Only The Best For You

He sounds so yee haw here

two of them

Catie speaks the truth.

Kid?

Logan Howlett x fem!mutant!reader A/N: I haven’t watched X-Men since I was a child, so I can’t promise this is going to be canon-compliant. I haven’t watched DP & W either, I’ve just been influenced by that one gif where Hugh Jackman shakes his head like a dog. I feel FERAL Also, I am not good at superhero names or coming up with creative powers. So you’re a mutant with matter manipulation and they call you Flux. I mean, superhero names are inherently ridiculous so I think this works. (Don’t judge me, I’m just here for the sexy man) Summary: You walk in on Logan and Jean in a compromising position and feel your heart break. You really thought he loved you, you were so wrong. (Or were you?)

It was your own fault, you should have knocked before you busted through the door. You only have yourself to blame as you struggle to catch your breath and swallow down the lump in your throat. The image of Logan standing between Jean’s bare legs is going to haunt you for a while. Their faces will keep you awake at night, cringing at yourself while you remember the humiliating moment. 

You rush towards the door, a stupidly giddy skip to your step. You were a mutant, a superhuman, and getting a chance to talk to your crush should not have you giggling like a schoolgirl. Still, you’re blind to all logic when it comes to Logan. 

You turn the corner, spotting the medbay and nearly ramming into the door you know he’s lurking behind. Charles had told you where to find him. Of course, you hadn’t paid attention to the odd tone of voice when he had very clearly warned you to knock. All you’d heard was Logan’s name and you’d zoned out for the rest of the conversation. 

And, of course, you don’t knock. You grab the door’s handle and bust in, “Hey!” Your eyes widen and your stomach plummets with a depressing plop to the floor. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see the way Jean and Logan are entangled in each other. He’s leaning over her, the muscles and veins in his neck pulsing with strain. Normally, that sight would have you nearly drooling. 

Instead, all you can see is the flush on Jean’s cheeks and the way her pupils are dilated with want. Her nails are digging into his back, bare legs twined around his waist. There’s no way to misinterpret this. No way for you to later assure yourself that this was all just a misunderstanding. 

The words stumble out of your mouth in a disjointed mess that even you can’t decipher. You stand there, jaw opening and closing like a fish out of water before you finally get it together. “Charles,” you stutter out, his name sounding like a question. You wince and finally tear your gaze away from them. “Sorry,” you chuckle, trying to play off your hurt as humor. “Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You don’t give them a chance to respond, you slam the door closed, ignoring what you think might be someone calling your name. 

You shake off the mortifying memory and groan. Your head falls into your hands and you grip at your face until the pain distracts you from the embarrassment. It’s not too hard to push it all down, to pretend what happened didn’t make your heart crumble away into nothing.

Maybe it’s because you’re a mutant that you’re so used to rejection. You’re used to constantly being disappointed by people around you. Your childhood was nothing but cruelty, your crush not liking you back can’t compare to half of what you went through. 

That’s what you tell yourself, at least, to try and pretend it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. You shove it down until you think you can’t feel that dull ache anymore. And when Jean and Logan walk into the room, looking more put together, you smile at Logan like you always do. It doesn’t turn down at the corners, your eyes don’t water. You take in a deep breath and look utterly unaffected. 

He sits down beside you and leans towards you. “I can explain-”

You cut him off and shake your head. “Forget about it. I should have knocked.” You turn towards Charles who wheels himself to the front of the room. You dismiss Logan and ignore the way his stare burns into the side of your head. 

Charles looks to Jean and Logan, a smile starting. Then his gaze drifts towards you and your chest deflates when you see the look on his face. He knows, the old miser probably coasted over your thoughts and he knows. He sends you a sympathetic look that makes you feel like a little girl who just got told unicorns don’t exist. “Jean, Logan, glad that you’ve finally joined us.”

Logan nods and leans back in his chair. But his eyes remain fixed on you and it makes you wish you could stab a fork into them. You let out a short, irritated huff of air and frown at yourself. Maybe you were a little more angry than you would like to admit. 

You blame Logan for that. You never would have fallen so deep into infatuation if you hadn’t believed there was even a sliver of a chance with him. Always speaking so kindly with you when he would barely spare anyone a second glance. Constantly doing checkups on you after a particularly harsh training session with Charles. 

Your mind runs over all the small things with him, everything you’ve done together. And you’re hit with a sudden nauseating thought. Oh my god, what if he sees me paternally?

You force yourself not to physically react but inside your throwing up and fucking freaking out. You feel a sudden spark of alarm from Charles and quickly do your best to fortify your mind so he doesn’t see your major mental freakout. 

You’re not that much younger than him. Well, it’s not illegal, your crush on Logan. But what if this entire time, when you’ve been falling harder and harder for him, he’s just been platonically taking care of you? You’ve seen him do it plenty of times for the younger kids, as reluctant as he is to admit it. 

You’re spiraling further and further into panic. So much so that you have no idea what’s even being discussed or what’s going on. You get onto the jet and have to ask Storm what you’re doing. She gives you a confused look but tells you nonetheless. Just some recon on a potential mutant trafficking ring. Nothing out of the ordinary, as depressing as that is. There shouldn’t be much violence, which is why your group is particularly small today.

You nod your head, moving like you’re in a daze as you throw yourself onto a seat. Logan sits beside you, an alarmed look on his face. “You alright, kid?”

The nickname, which is used to make your stomach flutter, makes you want to throw up. How have you missed it for this long? It was laid out so plainly before you. Of course, he doesn’t want you. Not when he has perfect Jean. Bile rises in your throat with a vicious ferocity when you glare over at Jean. 

There’s a sudden petty, vindictive rage fueling you. The type you should have abandoned in high school, especially now that you’re grown. Instead, you feel like giving into Logan’s idea of what you are. You feel like reacting to all of this petulantly. 

You ignore Logan and instead catch Jean’s eyes. Slowly, and with as much intention as you can force into your gaze, you look from her to Logan and then Scott. Her eyes widen and Logan scoffs beside you. She shakes her head minutely, silently begging you not to say anything. You smile at her and stand up.

You take a step towards Scott and Logan calls out an irritated, “Kid.” You ignore him and Jean eyes you warily as you approach. She stands like she’s ready to fight you and take the jet down just to keep you quiet. You reach Scott and can hear the way Jean takes in a sharp breath. 

“Scott,” he looks up at you with his brows raised. There's a pause before you speak. Dragged on too long for Scott not to realize you’re planning something. 

Jean takes a step towards you and you grin, “Mind checking my cuffs?” Scott gives you an odd look and his confusion only gets worse as Jean slumps onto the seat beside him. She’s not even trying to hide her relief. Scott shakes his head and holds his hands out, fingers gently probing around the cuffs on your wrists. The ones that keep your powers in check. 

You’re still new to welding them. And they’re too entwined with your emotions for you to just have free range with them. If you hadn’t had the cuffs on this morning, you’re afraid you might have just turned everything around you into nothing but dust.

“They look fine, Flux.” His tone betrays his thoughts. He doesn’t know why you’d come to him for this when it’s Charles who usually deals with it. But this stupid, petty little display wasn’t for poor oblivious Scott. It was for the woman sitting next to him. The redhead whose still drilling holes into your skull. 

You’ve got leverage over her that you’ve never had before. Scott wouldn’t take her little foray with Logan very well. And all it would take is a flick of your wrist to give him a very clear image of exactly what you’d seen. Then, her picture-perfect relationship would be over in a matter of seconds. You’re sure Logan would be more than pleased. But he doesn’t seem to understand that Jean just wants to have fun with him, she’d never choose him over Scott. 

“Thanks,” there’s a bite to your tone that you’re not used to. You usually keep your emotions relatively in control. That way you won’t have to wear these cuffs one day. But you feel volatile today. You’re channeling your hurt and turning it into misguided anger. 

You drop your wrists to your sides and stalk toward the front, hovering behind Charle’s and Storm’s chairs so you don’t have to look at the others. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the floor trembling under heavy booted steps. 

Logan’s arms rest on the headrest of the chairs, bracketing you in between them so you can’t escape. He leans forward until his chest is pushed against yours and you can feel every ridge of his muscled torso pressing into you. You try not to suck in a breath, try not to play into the cliche of instantly forgetting why you’re angry when you’re faced with those muscles of his. It is hard, though, because he’s so handsome and so warm and you just want to melt into him. 

“Wanna explain what the hell that was?” His voice is so low, whispering against the shell of your ear so only you can hear. You feel the vibrations of it against your back, his tone more gravelly than it should be. 

You glance over your shoulder at him, face placid and blank. “What? Just needed some help.” Storm looks over at you both and rolls her eyes. 

Logan opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off. “Put a pin in the lover’s spat, we’re landing.” Using just a bit of your power, you push Logan off of you and head towards the back of the jet. There’s a slight jolt as you land and then the ramp opens up and you’re practically running into the snowy forest. 

You don’t know where you are, mainly because you weren’t paying attention, you just know it's fucking freezing. The leather of your suit isn’t doing much to help fight against the chill. Charles stays on the jet and reminds you all that this is only meant to be recon. You’re partnered up with Logan, and as much as it irritates you, you’re not stupid enough to argue against it.

You have to put aside your personal grievances for this mission. You can’t risk the safety of mutants because the guy you like likes another girl. Logan seems pleased about it, stubbornly staying by your side even when you make it clear you want space. 

You both linger behind the other’s as Storm leads you through the forest. Jean is being more touchy with Scott than normal. Either to assuage her own guilt or to rub it in Logan’s face, you’re not sure which. You nearly gag as you watch them whisper to one another, you glance over at Logan to see if he notices. 

You’re startled when you see him already staring at you. His lips tick up into something mischievous when he catches your eye. That smug smirk on his face as he leans in towards you. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so pissed off?”

You roll your eyes and tamp down the rising tide of anger. “Nothing,” you bite out, jaw clenching the longer you stare at the back of Jean’s head. You’re surprised you haven’t chipped a tooth with how hard you’re grinding your teeth together. 

He scoffs, not believing you for a second. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you an expectant stare. You can taste the words forming on your tongue, an irritating urge to just spill your guts overcoming you. Before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “I’m a little surprised that’s all.”

“Oh yeah, ‘bout what?” You hate how amused he sounds, the chuckle just lying in wait under his words. Like your anger is funny to him, like he didn’t just break your stupid fucking heart. 

You stop walking, not feeling as intimidating as you want while you shiver and huddle into yourself. He seems perfectly at ease in his leather jacket and beater, still refusing to wear the uniform. He leans back and looks at you with a fondness that you can’t tell if you love or hate. “You and little Miss Perfect.” You spit the nickname with enough venom to make both of your eyes widen. 

Logan rolls his eyes and takes a step towards you, again, Storm interrupts you both. “Guys, really?” Everyone turns around to stare and you will the heat in your face away. “Not the time,” she scolds and you brush past Logan to catch up with the others. 

You come upon a warehouse, it’s nearly camouflaged under all the snow. You see two guards waiting outside the metal doors and you all disperse behind the trees. Storm glances towards Jean who focuses on the guards. They drop to the floor and you wave your hands, their guns melting into puddles of metal. 

Logan and Scott move forward, sliding the large metal doors open. You wince at the loud screeching as the rust flakes off the sides. There’s a collective quiet as you all hold your breath, waiting for them to give the all-clear. Once they run inside and run back out, you and the others quickly get to your feet and rush into the warehouse. Logan closes the doors again as you make it inside. 

“No one here?” Storm checks. Scott shakes his head and you frown. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would there be guards if there was nothing inside?

Your question is, unfortunately, answered a minute later. You find a pile of metal crates stacked on top of each other. A large beige tarp covers them. You tug at the corner, letting the fabric slide off. Your eyes flutter with disappointment, “Guys! Over here,” mutants sit inside the crates. Each of them stares at you with varying degrees of mistrust and fear. 

As awful as it is, you’ve gotten used to these quiet depressing missions. There aren’t usually many mutants in one place. They don’t like to keep the product in one spot for too long. There are only four kids here. The youngest is eleven and the oldest is seventeen. There’s nothing physically telling about their abilities so you assume it must be psychic powers. 

They don’t want to come with you until you all give them a demonstration of your powers. Proving that you’re not just trapping them and taking them somewhere worse. You’re nearly out the door when Charles's voice rings loudly through all of your minds. 

You wince at the volume, hands coming up to grip at your hair as he shouts, “Behind you!” A gunshot rings out, something hot rips across your wrist and you gasp in pain. There’s a clatter of metal as your cuff drops to the ground, the bullet having destroyed it. Without them both, they’re useless. One won’t work without the other. 

You glance up at Logan, a panicked look on your face. You can already feel the tidal wave of power thrashing and building in your chest. It’s been so long with the safety net that you forgot how bad it gets without the cuffs. 

“We need to get you out of here!” He shouts over the gunfire. He herds the group behind a cluster of metal shipment boxes. It provides enough cover for you all to try and figure out an escape plan. 

You listen to the other’s worried voices, each of them trying to console the kids. You don’t know their powers yet. Don’t know what might go wrong if they get too scared and can’t control their abilities. 

You can’t speak, breaths coming short and fast as you clutch your wrist to your chest. You know it’s delusional, hoping that if you keep a tight grip like the cuff you might be able to control yourself. You can already feel the energy leaking out of you, the ends of everyone’s hair stands on end. The wall in front of you warps and cracks like it can’t decide if it’s liquid or solid. 

You grit your teeth and look only at Storm. “You need to get out,” you force the words out. It causes physical pain to try and keep everything at bay. You can feel pressure building in your forehead, pushing out until you think you might explode. 

“We’re not leaving you,” Logan snaps. There’s shouting going on behind you, a pause as they all reload their guns. 

“Wasn’t a question,” you grit out. You look towards Jean and there’s a moment where you both put aside your differences. You both know how stubborn he is, how much he’ll fight against leaving you behind. Regenerative powers or not, it's dangerous to even be close to your gift now. You can see them all straining against the ebbing flow of your powers. Their skin shifts unnaturally like you’re already altering the atoms of their being. 

This is why you’re only allowed to train with Charles and Jean. They can get in your head, shut it down when you can’t. You’re not sure you’re going to survive yourself. Logan glances between the two of you and practically growls at Jean, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare-”

His words trail off into an unintelligible slur as he slumps forward, Jean having knocked him out with her powers. Scott grabs him and grunts under the weight of his body. “I’ll cover you,” you gasp the words out. Anything but focusing on your powers causes physical strain that makes you feel like you’re being tugged in a hundred different directions. “Just get them out,” you nod towards the kids. 

Storm nods and you slip out of cover. It isn’t hard to push your powers in one direction, to solidify the air in front of you so the bullets ricochet harmlessly off. You listen to the whine of the metal door and wait for the others to be gone. 

“They’re in the jet,” Charles's voice rings out. “Don’t do this,” he warns. You can’t think of a response, you’re not even sure what you would say. You never thought you would be able to approach death this calmly, or that this would be how you die. It feels almost pathetic, dying because you lost control on a recon mission. 

At least those kids are safe. It’s not a bad reason to die. Just not great. You glance down at the other cuff on your right hand, the air around it fluctuates until it melts off your wrist like liquid metal. With the last barely there tether off your powers, you close your eyes and release the tidal wave. 

It feels like a dam exploding. It doesn’t leak fluidly from you, it rips through you like a hailstorm of knives. Tears apart anything in its path and rewrites the molecular build of everything in its path. Screams echo through the air as men’s bones turn into brittle dust and their hearts morph into something inorganic. You’re blind to everything around you, vision clouded by the horrific release of energy. 

You can feel warmth leaking down your face. Blood still pours from the wound on your wrist, and fresh blood from other wounds you can’t even feel. You don’t know when the screams stop, or when you’re finally drained. But you feel like an empty husk as you drop to the floor, your head bouncing harshly against the cement as everything goes black. 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Logan says with a grin, glaring at Scott even though it’s Charles who is holding him back. He’s got a firm mental grasp on Logan, keeping him locked into place while he focuses on the warehouse. 

They’re waiting for the all-clear. The others know there’s always the possibility that they’re going to be collecting a body. But none of them are willing to say that, not with the look on Logan’s face. His muscles look ready to pop out of his skin with how much he’s fighting against Charles’s hold. 

Scott backs away from Logan with a scoff. He stands near Jean, but she can’t take her eyes off the restrained man. Nothing had happened this morning, Flux had seen to that. Interrupting them just as they’d started. Seeing the way he’s acting now, she’s starting to believe that nothing is ever going to happen. 

He’d looked like he was about to dismiss her when she started making a move. She can see the anger on his face, it seems he’s only ever pissed off. But underneath that, as much as he hides it, she can see the fear. He’s terrified that they're going to walk in there and you’re going to be dead. 

Jean can feel the fear of the others as well. They’ve only seen you lose control once and that had almost leveled the mansion. Charles had stopped you then, but the loss of the cuff had been so sudden Jean just barely had enough strength to keep the others blocked from your powers. She didn’t have enough time to shut you down. 

Jean, as much as she’s tried to deny it and dismiss her suspicions, can’t look Logan in the eye and ignore it anymore. It’s never been her that he’s wanted. The way he trails along beside you, always prodding and poking until you’re pissy and mouthing off. It’s not done because he finds antagonizing people fun, it's because he loves seeing you all worked up and passionate. He doesn’t view you through the same platonic lens he does the others. You’re something else to him, something she doesn’t want to name, afraid of the bitter taste it will leave on her tongue. 

Charles slumps back in his chair and Logan suddenly lunges forward. He looks a little surprised by the sudden freedom of movement, but before any of them can stop him he’s running out of the jet. “Logan,” Jean tries to call after him but he’s already a distant blur. 

Scott sighs and starts down the ramp. “Come on,” he mutters. He’s the last one who should be coming along. If anything is wrong with you, he’ll end up being Logan’s punching bag. Jean follows reluctantly, she’s not sure she wants to see what’s happened. 

Your powers are too similar in their volatile nature. The way they rule you and come so close to destroying you when you use them too much, is too familiar to Jean. She doesn’t want to see you lying dead on the floor and be reminded of her own mortality. But someone needs to make sure Logan is stuck on a leash. 

They reach where the warehouse should be. It’s nothing but a pile of rubble now. Throughout the wreckage, Jean can make out odd pools of liquid, some writhing, others still. She can only assume that these had been the men shooting at them. She doesn’t see your body, none of them do. But Logan isn’t giving up. 

He lifts different pieces of metal and tosses them off into the forest. Jean doesn’t sense your presence anywhere but she doesn’t have the heart to tell Logan to give up. After a few minutes of searching, she almost tells him to quit. But she can’t see him anymore. He’s disappeared somewhere behind a particularly large pile of roofing. A moment later, Logan stands up. His jacket is gone, wrapped around the body in his arms. None of them are close enough to see if you’re breathing. And he doesn’t say a word as he brushes past them, just keeps going back to the jet. Ororo, Scott, and Jean all share a silent look. None of them prepared for the potential fallout that’s going to happen after this. 

The first thing you feel is two familiar bands of metal around your wrists. The comforting feeling of the cuffs is enough to have you sinking further into the pillows surrounding you. Then you hear the beeping in your ear, feel the cool blow of AC, and become startlingly aware of the fact that you’re in a bed you don’t recognize. 

You groan, eyes peeling open painfully as your lashes get stuck on your skin. You reach up to rub at your face but your arms feel too weak to lift. You give up on the thought, instead staring up at the ceiling and waiting for your vision to refocus. 

A throat clears in front of you and you nearly jump out of your skin. Sitting at the end of your bed, arms crossed and a fierce glare on his face is Logan. His feet are propped up on the small table beside you. He quirks a brow and gives you a sardonic grin, “Finally awake, princess?”

Normally the name would have you up and doing somersaults, but there’s something distinctly negative and disappointed lacing his tone. It squashes any and all butterflies in your stomach. You grimace as you try and sit up. Logan is up in an instant, an annoyed look still on his face as he helps you up. 

You can’t help your dopey smile at how gentle his hands are on you. Even pissed off, he treats you so kindly. Maybe it’s the drugs relaxing you, or the fact that you almost died, but you can’t remember whatever made you mad at him. You can only feel the slide of his calloused hands against your arms, the way you shiver under his touch and crave more. 

He pulls the chair closer to you with a loud scratch of metal feet on the linoleum. You groan at the loud sound and he huffs, throwing himself down in the seat. “How do you feel?”

Your head sinks back against the wall and you finally realize you’re in the medbay. It’s why everything smells so sterile. “Like I got hit by a semi.”

He barely lets you finish your thought before he spits out, “What the fuck were you thinking?” He doesn’t ease you into this at all and you frown. You’re not sure why you would expect him to ever beat around the bush. That’s not his style, he’s always been blunt. Even when others wish he wouldn’t be. 

“What else was I supposed to do?” You ask, voice weak. Your throat feels like it’s been ripped apart. Idly, you wonder if you had been screaming in the warehouse or if this was just general strain from the whole ordeal. 

“Not put yourself at risk like that.” He leans forward, voice stern and bordering on shouting. You know he’s holding back. As much as he wants to lay into you right now, he’s stopping himself from going completely out of his mind. You appreciate it, but you almost wish he would just yell at you. You wish you had a reason to resent him, to finally get over him. “Not have Jean knock me out like that. You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”

It’s completely inappropriate and horrible timing, but you can’t help but scoff at the mention of Jean’s name. Can you not have one conversation that’s not tainted by the mention of the redhead?

Logan’s mouth snaps shut and he glares at you in disbelief. You squeeze your eyes shut, not willing to face him as embarrassment washes over you. No wonder he always calls you kid. You’re not exactly acting like an adult. You’re being a brat and for such a stupid reason too. 

Just because you like him doesn’t mean he has to reciprocate. You can’t just force your feelings on someone. “Logan,” you whisper his name, “Sorry. I’m sorry-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. Some of the anger, but not all, has ebbed from his expression. He almost looks like he’s smiling. “Jean? That’s what this is about? Jealous or something, sweetheart?”

You sputter, shocked little noises leaving you but no words. After a solid minute of restarting a sentence you don’t know how to end you finally land on a squeaky, “Who?” If you weren’t so mortified, you might have just thrown yourself out the window. Out of every cop-out you could have gone with you chose to just pretend you didn’t know who she was. Maybe you could make this work, like selective amnesia. 

Your shame only builds as Logan laughs. You cover your face and wish you could bury yourself six feet deep and never come up. You feel two rough hands wrap around your wrists, tugging your own away from your face. You don’t have the energy to fight back, so you keep your eyes on his chin. Too afraid to meet his gaze. 

“Come on,” he mutters, gently nudging your chin up until you’re forced to look at him. You're caught off guard by the look in his eyes. You recognize it, but you’d only ever seen it directed at Jean. It’s the same way you’ve always looked at him. Pure unguarded want and desire. 

The hand on your chin drifts back, fingers tangling in your hair and gently resting on your jaw. He tugs you forward until your lips are nearly touching, breaths mingling with every exhale. “Only ever wanted you, darlin'.’”

The kiss catches you off guard. It shouldn’t, deep down you knew it was coming, but the intensity behind it, the way you can practically taste how bad he wants this, wants you, catches you off guard. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting yourself melt into his hold. 

His free hand drifts to your waist and clutches the flimsy hospital gown until you hear it tear. You part your lips, deepening the kiss so you can finally taste him. It’s cigars and whiskey, something you should hate but is entirely intoxicating when he’s holding you so tightly. Fireworks are going off in your mind, sparks darting between your fingers as the cuffs struggle to contain all the energy suddenly pushing out of you. 

He can feel you holding back, squeezing you like it’s a promise he can take it. Take everything you throw at him. You let go as much as your cuffs will allow you. Let the energy blanket you both so you can’t hear your heart monitor going off like crazy. So you don’t feel anything other than each other. You think you’re going to devour each other like you’ll just keep kissing until neither of you can take it anymore. You don’t want to let go of him, don’t want to lose this moment. 

But you have to breathe. You don’t get to just keep living the way he does. You pull away from him slowly, every part of you dreading separating from him. His forehead drops against your own, his laughter playing along your lips as he finally hears the monitor going haywire. 

You groan, flicking your wrist and shutting it off so it can’t betray how flustered you are anymore. He gently nudges you aside so he can sit beside you on the bed. You don’t waste a second before you’re draping yourself across his chest and siphoning his warmth. He chuckles, arms coming up to wrap around you. 

“Can’t believe you were jealous of Jean.”

“Shut up,” you snipe. You look up at him and glare, “How else do you explain what you two were doing?”

He leans forward and gives you a smug grin. “She came onto me, sweetheart.” Your face screws up in distaste and jealousy. She’s going to need to learn to keep her hands to herself. He seems to feel the way you tense up, he huffs in amusement and rubs your back. “Relax, you’re gonna blow your fuse again.”

You glance down at your wrists and nuzzle further into him. You can’t believe you could have been laying on him this whole time. You never want to use a blanket again, not when you’ve got him. “I’ll be fine now that I’ve got my cuffs.”

His hand stills on your bicep. He squeezes it before his hand drifts up to your chin and he tilts your face up again. “I don’t ever want to see that again.” You’re a little surprised by the sudden shift in tone, but you knew this was coming. 

“I had to, Logan. I either took you all down with me or I went on my own.”

Logan frowns and takes in a deep breath. You place a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiles down at you, “Next time, take me with you. I’m not fucking dealing with Summers without you.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Your face grows warm and your chest expands with some odd gleeful feeling as he laces your fingers together. “Deal,” you whisper, still smiling at him. 

A/N: Okay, this might be shit, I’m not sure. I sort of rushed the ending because as I was writing this I had another idea for him. I guess I’m officially off my hiatus. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

hyperfixating on top gun is so fun there's so many shirtless men

“yes ma’am” + bob floyd ➤

You considered yourself to be a fairly steel-willed individual. You had to be in order to be a Navy medic. You’d seen one too many severed fingers lost to propeller blades or skulls partially caved in due to water pressure to let things faze you. You’d had one too many men twice your size screaming at you to fix their friend to lose your cool in high stress situations.

You were level headed and knew how to remain calm, even if you were elbow deep in someone’s chest cavity. That all seemed to go out the window the second you heard that honorific whimpered out from the man in front of you.

“Please, ma’am,” Bob begged hoarsely against your neck.

You were being mean, standing between Bob’s legs and barely touching him beyond soft caresses to his shoulders while he kissed your neck and chest and grabbed at you desperately. If the clouds parted and angels descended in a biblically inaccurate chorus, it could never compete with how beautiful your boy was right now. He was so needy it was near pathetic. “Ma’am” almost had you giving in immediately, but where’s the fun in that?

You pulled his head up out of your chest to look at you. “Please what, baby?”

“Please. I need you.”

You could feel him shudder against you as you placed your hand on his neck. Those pretty blue eyes fell shut. You could feel his throat move against the palm of your hand as he swallowed.

“Please, I need you so bad,” he begged. “Please, ma’am.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you. I want you to have me. Please touch me.”

You hummed in consideration. “Are you going to be a good boy for me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You going to do what I tell you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You going to let me do what I want to you?”

“Yes,” he keened.

“Yes?” you said.

“Yes, ma’am, please.”

You’d tortured him enough. Hearing him plead out “ma’am” was just too sweet; you couldn’t be mean to him.

Your hand stayed on his throat as you leaned down to kiss him, serving as a reminder of his place and also acting as a way to hold him back from trying to lean up and kiss you harder. He whined against your lips and you smiled. You licked into his mouth then left him, mouth gaping open. You pushed him back onto the bed to lay him out for you.

“Stay,” you hummed, and ventured lower.

You slid your fingers along the waistband of his jeans until you reached his belt to unbuckle it. You tugged his pants and boxers down. He let loose a small noise as the air of the room hit his waiting erection, cooling the wetness seeping from the top. It was nothing compared to the airy moan you drew from him when you slide your fingers over his tip.

You pumped him a few times. “I’m gonna make you feel good, honey.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nearly sobbed in desperation. “Please, ma’am.”

“Hm, good boy,” you smiled, before taking him in your mouth.

No mourners. No funerals. Among them, it passed for ‘good luck.

I’ve been seeing people vastly misunderstanding the whole point of the shootout scene, so I want to share my analysis here. It’s not just a redemption for Chishiya, and not just a way to make Niragi seem deep and complex. It’s a way to compare the characters of Arisu, Chishiya, and Niragi, and show their adaptability to change.

To begin, the initial main focus of it all is Chishiya. He has just left the King of Diamonds venue, and has realized that he is jealous of people like Kuzuryuu who are able to die happily with a purpose. He is seeking to speak with someone, to open up about his inner turmoils. That is when he gets caught between Arisu and Niragi, two ends of a morality spectrum he is struggling to find his place on.

Now, why does Niragi start this shootout? He says that he, Arisu, and Chishiya are all too similar, and due to this only one of them can live (although, it is later evident that it is for this very reason all three of them survive). Niragi doesn’t say they are similar in regards to their actions in the games; he says this in regards to how they are all inherently selfish people at the core. They put themselves first and foremost, whether intentional or not, and hurt those around them as a result.

For Arisu, this makes more sense in the context of his manga characterization. Manga Arisu has the unintentional tendency of doing things for his own sake when he thinks he has the group’s best interest at heart, and his speech mannerisms mainly revolve around his own feelings. He is selfish without realizing it. The shootout finally makes him conscious of this, and makes him want to remedy this. He is adaptable to change for the better.

For Chishiya, this has been evident from the beginning. He will manipulate and use others for his own gain, without worrying what happens to them afterward. He never goes out of his way to help others, but at the same time never directly hurts them either. He has and recognizes this selfish indifference towards all facets of life. However, the games make him envious of people like Arisu, who are adaptable to change.

For Niragi, it has always been obvious how he embraces his selfishness. He enjoys going out of his way to hurt others and make them suffer. He becomes the abuser to keep from being vulnerable. He is the oddball out of the three, because despite everything, he does not want to change.

Their selfishness is just the example that Niragi gives, but there are other things they have in common as well. Their upbringings, for one – they all lacked love and affection in their home lives. What makes them different in this sense is that Arisu had Chota and Karube to hold him up, who made him more friendly and optimistic towards life. Chishiya had no friends, but no enemies either, which led to his indifference towards life. Niragi had abusers, which led to his hatred and resentment towards life. There’s also how they all initially wanted to stay in the Borderlands; Arisu because he wanted to avoid his real world responsibilities, Chishiya because he was intrigued by the intellectual stimulation and death of the games, and Niragi because he could thrive in a world without laws. But they all eventually came to the realization that they wanted to leave; Arisu first due to escaping and finding a reason for living, Chishiya next due to realizing he needs to reject the offer to truly change, and finally Niragi not because he changed, but because he simply wanted to live.

As you can see, they are all similar characters at three different levels of intensity. Arisu at level one, the level where he is still capable of goodness. Niragi at level three, where he is too far gone and considered evil. Chishiya is stuck in a morally gray area between the two, trying to figure out where he should place himself.

Anyways, back to the shootout. Chishiya came here to talk to Arisu because he wanted to change for the better. But then Niragi came and pulled him backwards, halting his progress. The shootout is a battle of moralities; a push-and-pull between Arisu’s good and Niragi’s evil.

The whole point of this scene was to give all three of them time for introspection. Who are they currently, and who do they want to become? Niragi’s comment about all of them being similar spurs their answers. Arisu is disgusted at the realization of being so similar to Niragi, so he quickly puts his gun down and pledges to change. Chishiya is inclined to distance himself from Niragi once he sees Arisu’s resolve, and only puts his gun down to become uncharacteristic and save Usagi. And Niragi, upon seeing the other two take this chance to renew themselves, realizes that he was foolish to believe anyone could be like him in the first place. He truly is alone in this world, and he only has himself to blame for it. He never lets go of his gun – he fires. And in that split second, why does Arisu pick his gun back up after vowing to change? He does it to save Usagi. To not be selfish and shoot Niragi out of his own hatred, but for the sake of saving Usagi’s life instead. Saving Usagi is the turning point for Arisu’s character, and for Chishiya as well. Niragi’s attempt to kill her demonstrates how he never wanted to change to begin with.

So yes, Niragi was right in saying they are all similar in terms of their selfishness. But he was wrong to believe that they were kindred to him and could not change.

TLDR; all three of them are foils, bound together by their inherent selfishness. This shootout is the defining scene for their characters. Arisu is adaptable to change, Chishiya struggles with his alignment but ultimately chooses to change like Arisu, and Niragi was never meant to change in the first place.

possessive miguel o’hara has me in a chokehold

Possessive!Miguel trusts you but not those you interact with because he knew what every one of them were thinking upon looking at you because he thought the exact same thing.

Possessive!Miguel who’d watch from his hubbub as you interact with the others in the spider society under the guise of doing something else. It completely fools everyone but not Lyla, who would often catching him stealing glances and noting how his jaw clenched when the person you were talking to decided to get a little too comfortable.

Possessive!Miguel who’d definitely leaves bite marks scattered about your body when he’s feeling particularly possessive and would hide away any article of clothing that would allow you to cover them up so that people would get the message that you were taken. But when he noticed that some had healed, he takes up the task of replacing them with more marks.

Possessive!Miguel who is your shadow, following you whilst keeping a distance, thinking he was merely watching over you, which he was but one too many times had he followed you on the pretences of looking out for your well-being, when it was just him making sure to keep you within his line of sight, sending him into an almost feral state when you seemingly disappeared before his eyes.

Possessive!Miguel who only got possessive when he’s faced with the possibility of eventually loosing you one day to someone who truly deserved your love. It’s fascinating for Miguel when he’s aware of the moment his protectiveness became possessiveness towards you; Yet despite how possessive he may get, Miguel never lets it go to darker places where he would be pushing and pushing you away into the arms of someone else.

Possessive!Miguel who’d holds onto you really tight, face pressed into your neck, whispering ‘you’re mine,’ ‘there’s nobody that you’d rather be with then me,’ ‘I need you,’ ‘you belong to me,’ ‘don’t leave me when I still need you in my life,’ ‘see the way you fit within my arms? It means that we were meant to be.’ And so on like a mantra that you didn’t know who it was made for, you or himself for reassurance.

Possessive!Miguel who’d may or may not keep you inside the house when he feels as though something bad was encroaching and his first instinct was to assure that you were safe, even if it meant keeping you locked inside until further notice but he makes sure you have everything that you require until the danger passes over.

A/n: I kinda ran out of stuff to put here and this might seem a little lacklustre but at least I tried and gave it an attempt. Plus half of this probs ain’t within the realm of possessiveness but eh.

tipsy | peeta mellark

↳ warnings : mention of being drunk, tipsy/drunk behavior, fluff at end

↳ peeta mellark x reader x best friends to lovers

↳ summary : after a random party, peeta accidentally had more than one drink. after a call from finnick saying that he needs help to put peeta to bed, you leave to help your boyfriend

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

it was a long day, you and peeta had so many meetings with sponsers after the first games. you teo returned back home, with finnick and a few other visiting.

you said your goodbyes to peeta as he left for the party that finnick was hosting.

you wouldve gone, but the day wore you out, and all you wanted to do was stay back and watch tv. you basically had nothing to worry about, since you for sure knew peeta wouldn't act up.

even if he follows what everyone says, he knows what good and bad. plus, you promised him that you two will cuddle once he gets back home.

the thought of him made you miss him, making you wanting to go so badly.

as you thought more, there were 3 loud knocks on your door, pretty aggressively.

"y/n!!" you heard someone yell from the other side. the person sounded like finnick.

you got up, already a nervous face on your look by the tone of his voice. your heartbeat became faster. what if something bad happened to peeta? what if someone got into a fight with him?

you hurled to the door and swung it open.

to your surprise, you say johanna, finnick, and peeta. peetas arm was wrapped around finnicks shoulder as finnick held him up to balance.

peeta's legs were droopy, barely even standing. his face was staring at the floor eyes half open.

"what happened?" you asked.

"got too drunk i think."

"he said he didn't want anyone helping him except for you." johanna chimed in.

even with your nervousness, you still felt flustered at the thought of peeta wanting you instead of everyone else.

"okay um," you walked up to peeta and took his arm away from finnick.

he was still a little tipsy, but managed to stand.

"thanks guys, ill see you tommorrow." you said waving goodbye as you closed the door.

"johanna leave~.. mhbb.. i only want my girl." peeta mumbled.

you slightly gasped at his words. his girl? that was a new one to add to the book.

"let's get you upstairs.." you whispered as you took him and lead him upstairs carefully.

"j-johanna i said no.." he whispered, "i need y-y/n!"

you paused mid stairway and faced him. you grabbed his face with both your hands. he was so warm. he was always warm, something that you never thought would bring you comfort.

"peeta look." you whispered.

he looked up. his eyes widened.

"it's me.."

his smiled softly, making his eyes scrunch up.

"oh.." he whispered, as his face slowly grazed your hair.

"lets get you changed and put to bed, 'kay?" you said softly, taking his soft hand again.

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

after him protesting on him putting your shirt himself, you two finally managed to get in bed. your head was on his chest, while his arm drapped around you.

"y/n?" he whispered. you thought he already passed out after being so tired.

"yeah..?"

"thanks for helping me out tonight." he wiggled around getting more comfortable.

"anything for you peeta." you moved your head to look at him. "i'll always be here. i've been doing it for years."

he smiled softly while looking at you.

"i um.." he looked away trying to hide his blush that crept around his face.

he finally looked back.

"you know i love you right?" he whispered even more softer, like thin air.

you looked at him. no one's every actually told you that, like in a romantic way. you had so many things to say, but they somehow didn't come out.

"but not like the friend way, the-" his words by cut off by your lips.

his kiss was just as warm as his touch, now knowing that his kiss is the only kiss you want to feel for the rest of your life. after a couple seconds later, you finally pulled away.

"guess i have that affect huh?" he chuckled softly.

"peeta oh god-" you laughed, but cut off by a more tender and loving kiss.

both of your lips were in sync, it was like they were made for each other. you two pulled away, forheads touching. his hand lifted and allowed his thumb to graze your bottom lip.

"i love you.." you whispered against his thumb.

"i love you too baby."