Kid?
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.
More Posts from Not-neverland06 and Others
Part six of How About a Nuke is finished and will be posted tomorrow afternoon!! (I guess technically this afternoon bc it’s midnight but whatever)
It happened again
Had my first shift at my new job today
Manager is already trying to overschedule me
and an old man grabbed my arm in the creepiest way possible - he squeezed it, that's not necessary 😭
hoping to have something posted for you guys tomorrow
THE NEW CHAPTER WAS AMAZING BUT IM A SAPPY IDIOT N I WANNA FORGIVE COOP N GIVE HIM A BIG OL KISS 😭
I get you, I’m so weak when it comes to my dick-ish fictional crushes. I just can’t decide if I want to kiss him or slap him more. Maybe both.
Also, just in general, if me responding to anon’s sounds weird. I am still very much sick and very out of it.
Part five posted!
Ugh i LOVE your work!! I hope this isn’t against the rules to mention another blog but you and D1stalker are my favourite Logan writers 😭❤️ like there is always more plot than smut and the ANGST AHHH I just love it !!
Oh my god, not against my rules at all. I love hearing about other bogs so I can stalk them
Anyways, thank you so much for the compliments. I’m glad you’re enjoying it and my angst isn’t ridiculously depressing. I just realized I’ve posted too much sad stuff lol, I need to answer my requests for fluff
big bad wolf
Logan Howlett x fem!reader
a/n: inspired by the fact that Hugh Jackman thought wolverines were just a type of wolf and no one corrected him. Rusty because I haven’t written smut in a while so you guys aren’t allowed to talk any shit. Plus, I’m too much of a wimp to be like extremely explicit, but these prompts ( one, two, three) together were too good to pass up.
SMUT 18+ (my slight monsterfucker tendencies might shine through in this one)
Summary: Logan's told you a million times not to take the path through the woods. You never listen, of course. Now there's a monster on your tail and you're all alone. (part of my Halloween Palooza)
You never should have taken this path. You knew it was going to happen, Logan had warned you, and you still didn’t listen. Now, you’re in the middle of the woods, completely turned around and on the verge of tears. God, why do you never listen?
You put your groceries down and pull out your phone. Through the thick spread of leaves, you get minimal moonlight. You’re surrounded by shifting shadows and rustling undergrowth. Everywhere you turn is a monster waiting to leap out at you.
When you were little you were petrified of the dark. You hated the shapes you saw lurking within it. You’d outgrown that as an adult, but now, you can barely breathe as your eyes dart all around. The childish fear is returned with a vengeance and you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack.
You flip open your phone, squatting on the ground and trying to conserve your body's warmth. The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees since you left the house. Of course, Logan had told you to bring a jacket too. Did you listen? No.
You were only going out to get some chips and dip, you really didn’t think it would take so long. But then you’d got caught up talking to one of your friends and before you knew it, it was pitch black outside. You should have just called Logan at the store, asked him for a ride. Now, you’re staring down at the flickering screen of your flip phone and about to sob as you see the bars disappearing.
“No fucking service, of course,” you hiss and shove the phone back in your pocket. The battery’s nearly dead anyway. You doubt it would have lasted long enough for a phone call. You run a stressed hand over your face, trying to calm your breathing down.
You’re trying to trick yourself into thinking that everything’s okay. That the shadows are just shadows and you’re scared. Then you hear it.
It’s a low noise, something out of your worst nightmares. There’s an immediate spike of adrenaline as an inhuman growl echoes through the night air. You swear you can feel it inside your chest. It rumbles through the animal, bursts through clenched fangs, and makes the hair on your neck stand on end.
You glance over your shoulder, mouth parted in a silent scream. You don’t see anything, you can’t. You just barely make out the branches shifting nearby before you’re leaping to your feet. You almost call out, see whose there, but that feels like the last move every bimbo makes in a horror movie.
So, you do something arguably worse. You abandon your groceries and purse and bolt. Immediately you can hear its pounding footsteps chasing after you. You do scream now, there’s no point in swallowing it down. It’s like the terror is ripping through you, making you stumble over every branch and rock in your path.
You know it's faster than you. You can hear how easily its keeping up its stride behind you. This feels like a game to it. It's just teasing you, dangling freedom in front of its prey before it closes its drooling maw around your neck.
You trip over an enlarged root and go flying forward. Rocks scrape across your arm and you let out a short shriek of pain. The flesh tears easily on the sharp points and the metallic scent of your blood fills the air. It comes to a sudden stop a few feet away from you. There are no thoughts in your head besides the voice screaming at you to RUN!
It tells you to keep running. If you stop it will catch you and it will kill you. This is no longer a product of your imagination. This is real and it is hungry for you. You scramble to your feet, boots slipping along the muddy forest floor. You dig your fingers into the earth, feel the dirt slide under your nails, and launch yourself forward. You nearly flip your feet over your head but you manage to keep yourself steady.
You can’t hear the steps behind you. The beat of your heart pounds through your head, drives you forward, and discombobulates you all the same. Blood rushes so quickly beneath your skin that you can feel your vessels swelling with the warmth of your terror-fueled adrenaline.
You’ve never felt so inferior before, like a rabbit desperately trying to escape the hungry jaws of a wolf. Your legs are moving faster than they ever have, you’re bounding, racing, leaping through the forest. You move through it like you were born in it, anything to escape whatever was following you.
You no longer remember the way home or what home is. You can only focus on right now. You don’t notice the dark shape running alongside you, or how easily it keeps pace. Not until it’s barreling into your side and you go slamming into the ground again. Your head nearly bounces against a rock but something slides underneath it, stopping the impact at the last second.
Something rough grips at your face. You’re still blind, blood rushing so hard beneath your skin, you’re practically blind with panic. You bite down, taste flesh, and hold on until blood rushes into your mouth. The metallic tang of it is like poison against your tongue but you don’t let go.
“Release!” He orders you like a dog. His voice is so thick with anger and hunger that you barely recognize it. But something clicks in your head and you unlock your jaw from his palm. “The fuck have I told you about taking this path?” Again, his voice is so thick with volatile rage that you barely register it.
“Sorry,” you sob out, shoving at his chest and scrambling to sit up. But he keeps you pinned to the ground, one hand clamped tightly around your neck and the other pushing down against your stomach. You can feel something hard against your thigh but you pay it no mind, still struggling to catch your breath.
You take in deep, heaving, gasps of air and the moon shifts overhead. It gives you just enough light to see Logan clearly now. You nearly choke at the sight of his face. His lips are peeled back, sharpened points of teeth causing blood to bead along his lower lips. His beard seems scruffier than normal and there’s a golden glow to his eyes.
“What the fuck?” You stutter out, glaring up at him. You’ve seen him angry before. But you’ve never seen him quite so animalistic. “Logan?” You whisper his name hesitantly and it only makes him look more pissed off. You shrink back, though there’s not far to go with him holding you like this.
His hips shift down and you bite down on your lip so a pathetic whimper doesn’t escape you. His head tilts curiously, gaze raking over your heaving chest and then down to the too-short shorts you’d put on earlier.
He gives you a look of astonished disbelief, “You fuckin’ kidding me?”
The hand on your stomach drifts down to the waistband of your shorts. Your eyes widen when you realize what he’s trying to do. “Logan, wait-” Too late. He rips the shorts down your legs and his eyes widen. The sneer of his lips finally melts away as he sees the clear wet spot in the middle of your underwear.
You don’t even get a chance to defend yourself before he’s gripping your hips and flipping you over. Your hands struggle for purchase on the slippery rock in front of you. You try and glance back at him, but he buries a hand in your hair, tugging harshly, and forcing your face forward.
“Logan, please,” you whine, thoroughly humiliated as he sits behind you, silently examining your battered form. You’d tripped more than you thought while you’d been running from him. The adrenaline has just barely waned enough for you to feel the bruises forming. But he has no sympathy for your plight, if anything your tears seem to egg him on.
“What have I told you about taking this path?” You bite your tongue, a sudden refusal to answer raging forth. He’s got you half-naked on your hands and knees after chasing you through the woods. You shouldn’t have to be scolded like an imbecile on top of that.
He leans over you, the weight of his body pushing forward, your arms strain to keep you both up. You grit your teeth, still keeping your mouth clamped shut. He chuckles, the noise so low you feel it rattling through you rather than hear it. “I could hear you.”
His hand drifts down your bicep, wraps around your front, and rests over your breasts. “Could hear how fast your heart was beating. It’s still about to come out of your chest.” You suck in a sharp breath, keeping yourself from arching into his touch.
His nose lingers against the side of your head, dipping towards your neck and inhaling deeply. Your face wrinkles in confusion as he practically smells you. “I can smell how terrified you were.” His hand suddenly jerks your head back and you can’t help but yelp. There’s a smirk on his lips as he finally gets a noise from you.
You can feel the desire practically dripping down your thighs at this point. All you can think about is how powerful he is. How hungry he is for you. You want him to devour you, completely wreck you.
He releases you and without his support, you slump forward, neck bowing awkwardly. You try and right yourself but one of his hands grips your neck so tight you can feel the blood rushing up into your face. He pins you there and the only warning you have of what he’s about to do is the sound of his belt buckle coming undone.
He thrusts into you and your jaw drops. You inhale the dirt beneath you and it tastes remarkably like blood. He pushes your cheek further into the ground and you grunt as tiny little pebbles have their taste of your flesh.
Had you not been so wet, you doubt you would have enjoyed a second of this. But, because his chasing you down like something feral made you more aroused than you have been in months, you let out a pathetic moan beneath him. It borders on the thin line between pain and pleasure. But each rough thrust inside you blurs the line until they’re indiscernible from one another.
Your fists curl up, mud sticking in the lines of your palm as he takes you like you’re nothing more than a toy. You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like how used you feel. But you relish it. Relish in how crazy you make him, to the point that he’d lose his mind and use you like this.
He’s like a fucking animal. Taking what he wants from you with no concern or care to whether you like it or not. He’s panting and grunting behind you, you don’t understand the insults spewing from his mouth because there’s blood rushing in your ears and you feel like you might pass out.
The adrenaline and residual terror from earlier are building into one explosive moment inside you. Your fingers tremble with it, your limbs burn from the volatile feeling and you can’t help the noises being forced out of you. It doesn’t take much longer for you to combust.
Pleasure rushes through you, makes you numb to the world around you. A dulled tickling feeling rushes through every part of you. Your arms go limp and he’s quick to wrap a hand around your waist, keeping you upright. He presses into your lower back, arching it until he’s hitting the spot inside you that causes aftershocks of painful pleasure.
Your core throbs as you pulse around him. Sucking him deeper until his hips come to an erratic stop and he spills inside you. You keep your forehead pressed to the cool earth beneath you. You never actually managed to catch your breath before and now it just feels like you’re five seconds away from hyperventilating.
A soothing hand runs up and down your spine, he curls around you and helps you to sit up. His voice is a low whisper, “You alright?”
You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath and giving him a shaky nod. He laughs and pulls you to stand up. Your legs were limp from running earlier, now they’re practically boneless. He keeps you propped against him and pulls your shorts back up.
He buttons his jeans and straightens. His eyes narrow as he glares down at you. He cups your chin, tilting your head to examine the scratches on your cheeks and tutting at you. His fingers tighten to the point of pain and he jerks your face up to meet his eyes. “You gonna come down this path again?”
After that, yes. You completely would. He sees the look on your face and rolls his eyes. He leans down, tossing you over his shoulder and groaning. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“You like it,” you taunt, tugging at his shirt for balance.
He shakes his head but you know he’s smiling. “You’re lucky I love you.”
“Same time next week?” You tease as he goes back for your groceries and purse.
“Don’t push it,” he snaps.
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.
General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡
Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte
@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross ♡
The fact that I was literally thinking of Marilyn when I wrote this, you get me
Anyways, I posted part two if you want some closure ♥️ (though that’s a cliffhanger too lol)
How About a Nuke?
Part one
Cooper Howard x fem!reader A/N: This is really a prelude to the real story. It’s who they were before the bombs dropped and not as fleshed out as it could be. Summary: Hollywood doesn’t agree with you, as much as you wished it would. Until you meet Cooper Howard and he flips your world upside down. (Image below does not represent reader, I mean I don’t even look like that)
“Quench your thirst and a little bit more,” you winked and held up the dripping bottle of Nuka-Cola. You shot your best smile at the camera in front of you, holding it until the director let out a loud “Cut!” The smile dropped instantly and you dumped the bottle back in its cooler.
Tom walked behind the camera, a frown on his face as he replayed the clip. You’d been here two hours already for a thirty second promo, there’s no reason it should have been taking this long.
You shifted, the leather on your legs creaking uncomfortably. They had you in some odd little space suit, more sexy than functional. The backdrop behind you was of painted stars and an out of scale moon. You weren’t sure how space and Nuka-Cola connected but a check was a check.
“Is that who I think it is?”
You turned around at the sound of gasping. Your eyes widened and your stomach dropped when you watched the Cooper Howard walk through the entrance of the studio. Your biggest celebrity crush and idol just walked through the door and you were dressed like a sexy astronaut. This is beyond embarrassing.
You had begged your agent to let you take some more serious roles, or at least a few fun ones. You’d been stuck in the same role of sexy bombshell for too long. You couldn’t even escape it doing a few advertisements. You wanted someone like Cooper to think you were classy or distinguished at least. Not some sellout with over lined red lips.
You whipped your head around, hoping he wouldn’t notice you, and pretended to be fascinated by the cheap set you were on. “Mr. Howard, a pleasure,” you briefly glanced over your shoulder to watch your director shakehis hand. Cooper looked up, his eyes briefly catching yours. You winced and turned back around.
“What are you doing here?”
”Filming a new advertisement for Nuka, would you like to see?”
”Why, yes I would.”
Oh, this was wonderful. Just great. You reached up to pinch the bridge of your nose but your hands just jammed painfully against the plastic of your helmet. You listened to them replaying your clip, hating the sultry tone of your voice. You hated being typecast like this.
You didn’t work so hard to earn your spot in Hollywood just to be forced into the role of a sex symbol. You could be more, you knew it. You just needed a chance. “You did wonderful.”
You jumped in shock at the voice near your ear, your helmet hitting something hard. You heard a groan of pain and turned around mortified to see Cooper holding his nose. “Oh, Mr. Howard, I am so, so sorry.”
He shook his head and held up a hand, smiling amicably at you. “My fault, sweetheart, shouldn’t have snuck up on ya.”
You let out an annoyed huff and finally pulled the damn thing off. “Honestly, I should pay more attention, this damn thing’s a safety hazard.” He chuckled and it made you smile without even realizing it. You could feel the heat already blooming under your skin, just barely resisting the urge to fan yourself. But you couldn’t help but be flustered. It was Cooper Howard!
He finally let go of his nose and you sighed in relief when you saw that it wasn’t too badly damaged. He seemed to understand your relief because he laughed again. You heard whispers behind the two of you and finally realized just how close you both were. A couple PA’s stood huddled together, pointing at you with accusing fingers and harsh glares.
Probably not smart to be a sex symbol and stand so close to a married man.
You dropped the smile and took a step back from him. As much as you disliked typecasting, you would hate losing jobs more. You didn’t need any rumors to spread because you smiled too widely at Cooper. Lord knows your career barely survived the last round of gossip, that you’d been sleeping your way into roles. Which you hadn’t. You don’t need anything more like that bothering you now.
Cooper glanced over your shoulder and seemed to notice the same thing as you, but he didn’t seem bothered by it like you were. Of course, he was a man and he was very happily married, he didn’t have to worry about the same things as you. He was secure in both his relationship and place in the world. You’d just barely gotten a foothold on everything.
“I thought you seemed just sweet as peaches in that clip.”
You gave him a brief smile, “Thank you.”
”Though,” he frowned and glanced over at the director. You rolled your eyes when you saw Tom point over at you and then gesture to his stomach. If they sinched your waist one more damn time your ribs were going to crack. “I don’t quite understand why you had to be seductive.” He seemed genuinely perplexed but it didn’t take a genius to understand the underlying message of his words.
You shrugged, “Just seems to be the way my career is going right now.”
”Is that what you want?”
Your brows furrowed in confusion. You haven't been asked that before. Of course you’d spoken up about being unhappy with your roles, though you still took them. But no one had ever asked you what you wanted. An odd feeling bloomed in your chest and you took another precautionary step back. “Um,” you frowned and shook your head, “no. It’s not what I want.”
He smiled, seemingly pleased by the answer. “Look, sweetheart, I didn’t come here to drink cola or chat,” he held up his hands in apology, “as wonderful a conversationalist as you are. I’m filming a movie right now. We're looking for a lady with a strong presence to be my companion in the film. I’ve seen your movies, you’re capable of a lot more than they’re giving you to work with. I think you’d be perfect for the role.”
Your ears started to ring as you stared at him in shock. It was hard to keep your jaw closed the longer he spoke. There’s no way that everything you’ve been wanting was just being offered to you on a silver platter. Stuff like that only happened in…
Well, it only happened in movies.
“That is if you want the role? You’re not looking particularly enthused,” he gave you a charming grin and you finally remembered you actually had to respond to him to get what you wanted.
“Yes!”
You didn’t care how loud you were or how dirty the looks you were getting from others were. There was nothing on your mind other than the man in front of you and what he was offering you.
Everything you wanted.
You stared up at the poster on Cooper’s wall. “I always thought I looked ridiculous in this one.”
“Well,” Barb came up behind you and handed you a martini. You took it from her with a grateful smile and took a sip. You tried to stop your face from screwing up but alcohol had never really sat well with you. “I think you look amazing.” She smiled at you and walked back towards the living room.
You stayed where you were at the end of the stairs, staring up at the too-large poster. You and Cooper were standing back-to-back, your gun raised to your lips and a smirk on your red lips as your hat laid tilted over your eyes. The bright red cursive title sat under your spurred boots, The Outlaw and The Sheriff.
Well, they certainly hadn’t been creative with the name. You couldn’t really bring yourself to care, though, it had been your first real role. You had played someone of substance, someone whose entire life didn’t revolve around the man she wanted to have an affair with. Cooper had opened up more doors for you then he would ever understand.
You turned from the poster and back to the party. For once you weren’t being surrounded by a group of groping producers or Hollywood execs. Being a part of Cooper’s family, someone he was mentoring, it carried a certain power within the den of vipers. You weren’t untouchable, but you weren’t someone to be so easily ruined.
You flashed kind smiles and coy waves at the people who called out your name and made your quick escape to the backyard.
Cooper’s new movie had been released and he was having a sort of celebration party. Though, you think it’s just Barb trying to integrate Vault-Tec into the movie industry. From the disgusted looks on some of your co-star’s faces you could tell it wasn’t going very well.
You sighed in relief at the fresh air and slowly made your way over to the pool chairs. Your feet ached in your heels and you could already feel blisters starting to form. You undid the straps and slipped them off. You lowered yourself onto the edge of the pool and dipped your toes in, the relief instantaneous.
You weren’t out very long before you heard steps approaching. You let out a deep sigh, mentally preparing yourself for your peace to be ruined by whoever wanted to bother you. “You’re not skipping my party, are you?”
You opened your eyes to find Cooper smiling down at you. You always wondered how his smiles could be so genuine when he spoke to you. You hadn’t felt like you’d given anyone a real smile in a long time. This industry had taken a lot from you and lately you’d been wondering if it had stolen your happiness too.
You shrugged, “It was getting a little boring.”
He grinned and slipped his shoes off. You watched him roll his pants up and groan as he dipped his legs in the pool with you. His smile slipped and his eyes widened when his legs landed in the water, “Damn, it’s fucking cold!”
You barked out a laugh, rough and very unladylike while he squirmed like a girl at a little cold water. “Didn’t you fight in a war?” You teased.
He nudged his shoulder into yours, “Watch it,” you shook your head, dismissing his faux warning. You knew he didn’t really mind when you bugged him. It’s how you two had been acting around each other since day one. Tabloids labeled you two as close as kin, brother and sister.
As much as it bugged you every time you read a headline like that while standing in line at the grocery store, you supposed it was better than everyone thinking you were some two-timing slut. But it bothered you how much your relationship being labeled siblings in nature irritated you. He had a wife and child, you couldn’t let some pathetic crush cloud your judgment like this.
It was real hard to remember that, though, when he looked at you the way he did. Sitting by his side, under the moonlight, his eyes warm and earnest as he sent you an easygoing smile. You’ll never figure out if it’s in your head, but you swear he doesn’t smile at anyone the way he does at you.
You feel like the only woman in the world sitting there with him. Like there wasn’t a party going on a few yards away in his house. And you hadn’t just accepted a martini from his wife who had graciously invited you into their home. It was just you and him.
You didn’t realize you were leaning in until your lips were brushing his. He should have pulled back. You shouldn’t have leaned in. But his hand was on your waist and the other was buried in your hair, desperately pulling you closer.
It wasn’t gentle or slow like you’d always imagined it. His mouth was moving hungrily over yours, practically devouring you in his desperation to get as close to you as possible. His hand tugged at the roots of your styled hair, a pained moan slipped through your lips. That wasn’t enough to snap you out of your trance, but his tongue licking into your mouth was. He groaned, tasting and savoring you like you would be his last meal. Like he had wanted you just as much as you had wanted him and he wasn’t going to let this chance slip away.
You jumped back but he didn’t let you go far with his hands on you. His eyes slowly opened while the reality of the situation dawned on you both. You let out a horrified gasp at the sight of your lipstick smeared over his lips. “Oh, god, Coop.” You whispered, voice strained as you stared at him, “What did we do?”
His eyes darted between yours, the realization coming slower to him. When it did, you could pinpoint the exact moment it hit him. His mouth drew up in disgust and he ripped his hands off you. He leapt up, water splashing your dress as he did, but you were too hurt to really care. He clamped a hand over his mouth, looking very much like he was about to throw up on you. “Fuck,” he hissed, jaw clenched and eyes squeezing shut.
You grabbed your bag and shoes and rushed to your feet. You dug around in your purse, hands shaking so much you could barely undo its clasp. When you finally found your handkerchief you dipped it in the pool and held it out to him.
He glanced towards your outstretched hand and then to your ashamed face in confusion. “You have my lipstick on your lips,” you whispered. He snatched it out of your hand and scrubbed at his face so hard you wouldn’t even be able to make out the lipstick with how red his skin was.
Slowly, and without a word, you both made your way back into the house. The tension was thick, neither of you able to look at each other. You kept an unusual amount of space between you for two people who were always so close. If anyone looked out the door at you right now, well, even Bud Askins would be able to tell something was wrong.
You made it to the glass door and Barb intercepted you. Your heart leapt to your throat. You’d never been more disgusted with yourself. Not only did you kiss this woman’s husband, you had fucking enjoyed it.
In fact, you wished you were out there still. As small a taste you’d gotten of him, you craved more. Your body was on fire with desire, core throbbing when you thought about the way he’d kissed you. You forced yourself to stop imagining what it would be like if he had kissed somewhere else. God, the thought made you burn.
She laughed and gave you an odd look, “You look like you saw a ghost.”
Cooper chuckled and you whipped your head towards him in shock. Not only did he look completely unaffected, but he was smiling at you. You couldn’t look at him long, afraid your face would further give you away. You were a good actress, but not nearly as good as him.
“This one almost accidentally took a dip in our pool,” he and Barb both laughed and you forced yourself to join in.
“Yeah, and I think that might have been enough excitement for me.” You smiled at Barb and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, the taste of her husband still on your lips. “I’m gonna head home. Enjoy the rest of the party.”
Cooper stopped you before you could completely slip away, “I’ll walk you out to your car, honey.” You nodded, not willing to argue in the middle of his crowded home. Still, you didn’t make it easy for him to keep up with you. You were at the door before he could blink, practically flying out of the house.
You probably would have made it all the way to your car without another word if it weren’t for him clasping a hand around your elbow. “We need to talk.”
You shook your head and he let out a disappointed sigh. You already knew what he was going to say, and you agreed wholeheartedly. What had happened tonight was a mistake. Not only were you risking your career but you could ruin his whole life if you continued down this path. As much as you wanted him, as much as you had yearned for him, you couldn’t be so selfish.
But you also couldn’t handle hearing him say that to you. It would break your heart to have to listen to him explain all the reasons you could never be with the man you were so desperately in love with. “I know, Coop, I know.”
His grip tightened on you when you tried to slip away. You set pleading eyes on him, praying he couldn’t see the tears already starting to build. You knew he could, though, when his gaze softened and he eased his grip on you. After another whispered “please” he finally nodded and stepped back from you.
You slipped your arm from his hold and ran to your car. You leapt inside and peeled out of the driveway like the devil was on your tail. And maybe he was, maybe you deserved it. Because you still couldn’t help yourself, glancing in the rear view mirror to see Cooper standing at the end of his driveway, watching you go with a distraught look on his face.
You wiped the tears off your face and turned back towards the road. You could never be with him. You could never love him the way you wanted. You’d have to be satisfied for the rest of your life with the taste you’d gotten tonight. That would be all you would ever allow yourself.
“A fallen star, Cooper Howard has become a reject within Hollywood. Fellow actors and actresses have been refusing to work with him, making it difficult for the former celebrity to find work. Recent reports say he’s been seen at birthday parties more than on set.”
The female reporter shook her head, “Such a shame. We’ve been hearing that this is all due to his former ties with Vault-Tec. Ties which were recently severed in a grisly divorce with ex-wife and Vault-Tec employee, Barb-”
You clicked the TV off, shutting the ridiculous news report up and ran a hand down your face. You hadn’t seen Coop in a few months. After that night at his house, you’d dropped the movies you’d been doing with him and put as much distance between the two of you as you could.
That thought made you feel like the worst piece of shit. You couldn’t have known that Hollywood was going to turn its back on him. You couldn’t have known that nearly two weeks after you cut ties his entire life would go up in flames. You should have been there for him. How you feel about him shouldn’t matter when your friend needs you.
He’d given you everything he could and you couldn’t even be there for him when he needed you. Of course, once you’d heard about the divorce, you’d called up Sebastian. But he had warned you not to try and reach out to Cooper. He seemed to think it would only make things worse. The more you heard, however, the more guilty you felt about not being there for him. Tabloids and gossip columns certaintly hadn’t been kind when the news of his divorce had come out.
They pounced on the opportunity to further rip into his wounds and present them to the world. You glanced down at your couch cushion, the magazine you’d picked up in the store staring back at you. The front was a picture of him walking out of a house, donned in cowboy gear and clearly performing for a children’s party.
You sighed and decided you should finally push aside your pride. You snatched your keys from the hook and headed out the door.
Cooper didn’t seem to believe it was you when he opened the door. His eyes, cloudy and red, narrowed before he frowned and took a step back. “That really you?”
You offered a weak smile and a, “Hi, Coop.”
He scoffed and you could tell he was getting angry. His accent always got a little rougher when he was pissed off. “‘Hi, Coop’,” he mocked, a sneer on his face. “Four months without contact and that’s all you have to say. Fuck off,” he went to close the door but you blocked him with your foot.
It stung, honestly, the cruel way in which he spoke to you. But you knew he could be a lot meaner if he wanted to and it wasn’t as if you didn’t deserve it. You had been a shitty, selfish friend. “I’m sorry, I was just nervous. I just,” you paused, struggling to find the right words to make this any better. He crossed his arms, still refusing to let you into his house. “I called the second I heard, but Sebastian had told me it would be better if I didn’t come.”
His brows furrowed before he glared at you. “So you don’t even fucking call?”
“I was wrong and selfish. Cooper,” you reached out, laying a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, I’m not asking for you to forgive me. I am genuinely so sorry I wasn’t here for you. But I’m here now, if you’ll let me be.”
The next minute was unbearable. You felt too awkward to take your hand off his arm and he refused to speak. He didn’t even blink, just glared at you, the longer the silence went on the more you could feel yourself losing your nerve. Maybe this had been a mistake.
Finally, he sighed and your heart leapt to your throat. “Come in,” he stepped to the side and opened his door up further. You kept your mouth shut and slipped into the house. It seemed to be the only thing he’d been able to hold onto since the divorce.
The door slammed shut behind you and he pushed past you to slip into the living room and throw himself down on the couch. You followed slowly behind him, taking oddly tentative steps, like if you made a noise he would kick you out.
He had his arm thrown over his face, his eyes clenched like he was in pain. You perched yourself on the edge of the chair you usually sat in, feeling oddly uncomfortable. You fidgeted restlessly on the cushion, crossing and uncrossing your legs, tapping your toes against the floor.
It had seemed like such an easy decision to come here half an hour ago. But you hadn’t had a plan and that was really biting you in the ass now. Desperate for anything other than the sound of the fabric underneath you, you blurted out the question that had bothered you for months.
“What happened?”
He sighed, like he’d been expecting it. He sat up slowly, grabbing a glass of brown liquor off the coffee table and taking a swig. He leaned forward on his knees, glaring over at you. “What are you talking about? You’re gonna have to be specific, sweetheart, everything in my life has fallen apart.”
You winced, hating the callous way you’d asked the question. You’d meant to approach the subject more gently, but it wasn’t easy to keep your curiosity contained. “Everything, I guess. Last time I saw you, you were on top of the world. What happened?” You tried to ask your questions as gently as possible, but there really was no use sugarcoating anything.
“Flew too close to the sun and I fell,” he shrugged and sent you a sarcastic smirk. “But I see you’ve been doing great, huh?”
“Not really, I’ve stepped back from taking on any contracts. I would have dropped Nuka-Cola too if their lawyers weren’t so damn good.”
He shrugged, like he didn’t really give a shit about your life or how it was going. This hurt, how he was acting, you’d never seen him like this. He was acting so mean and despondent. “Found out Barb was advocating for nuclear war and Vault-Tec was backing her. Finding out your wife is orchestrating war crimes really puts a wrench in your marriage.”
You wished you could be surprised, but Barb’s odd behavior since joining the company had been obvious to everyone but Cooper. He laughed when he saw the look on your face, “You say ‘I told you so’ and I’ll throw something at you.” You shook your head and sank back in the chair. “Anyway, Vault-Tec dropped me and since everyone in Hollywood hates me that was the last paying job I had. Now, I’m working kid’s parties.” He scoffed and smiled mirthfully, but the hatred in this look was directed at himself. “How the mighty have fallen, right?”
He threw back the rest of his whiskey and slammed the glass back on the table.
“I really am sorry, Coop. I should have been here.”
He didn’t look at you, just shook his head, “No point. If you had been, I would have dragged you down with me. Probably the smartest thing you could have done.” You hated this, it made your heart hurt to see him so down on himself.
This wasn’t the Cooper you knew. This was a man completely broken by what life had thrown at him. You hated this. You hated yourself for not helping him. Hated his wife for abandoning him. You hated the world for so easily turning their back on him like he was nothing to them.
You slipped from the chair and kneeled in front of him. You grabbed his hands in yours, holding on tight when he tried to slip away. “I’m sorry, Coop, truly. I wasn’t here for you. But I am now, I swear. Let me help you, please.”
He glanced down at you and stared quietly, trying to decide whether he should be an asshole and tell you to fuck off or just accept the help. He had been lonely for a long while now. He needed someone to tell him he was doing okay. That he had done the right thing in getting Barb out of his life. So, he nodded and squeezed your hands back.
“Pancakes?”
You laughed and sat up in bed, glancing over at Cooper while he got dressed. “Is that all you know how to make?” He smiled and crawled back onto bed to plant a hard kiss against your lips.
“You want food or not, smartass?”
You laughed and pressed another quick kiss to his lips, “Please.” He shook his head and walked out of his bedroom and towards the kitchen. You sank back against the pillows and stared blankly up at his ceiling.
You wished there was a title to describe what you were to each other, but you weren’t completely sure yourself. A few weeks after you’d stopped by his house you’d slept together for the first time. And then again and again, and you’d taken to staying at his house more than your own apartment.
You’d worried that you were letting yourself be a rebound after his divorce. Afraid that he was simply going to sleep with you and move on once he’d found something better. But he didn’t treat you like you were something to throw away.
But that doesn’t mean anything when he’s never explicitly stated that he wants something serious with you. You sit up when you hear him padding back down the hall, a tray in his hands. You smile at him and help him settle back in bed.
When you’re done eating you both lay back in bed and you figure you don’t need something definitive for now. You’ll just enjoy what you have while you have him. The shrill ring of the phone jolts you both out of your comfortable state.
He sighs and reaches over to grab it from its place on the nightstand. The cord stretches over you while he leans back and talks to whoever is on the other line. “Hello?” His brow furrows in confusion when the other person began to speak. You can make out their muffled voice but not what they’re saying. You give him a questioning look but he just shrugs and hands you the phone. “It’s for you, sweetheart.”
“Hello?”
Cooper watches you with growing confusion as your face lights up and you shoot out of bed. He sighs, knowing his morning is probably over. He figures he should go ahead and get dressed while you finish up the call.
When he comes out of the bathroom you’re still talking. Your finger is coiled through the cord and you’re pacing a track into his rug. You’ve got a serious expression on your face, listening intently, before you light up once more and let out an eager, “Oh, thank you so much!” You slam the phone back down on the dial and turn to him with an eager smile.
“That was Tom, he’s got a role for me.” Cooper shoots you a happy smile but he can’t help the twinge of jealously in his gut. A few weeks ago some pictures of you two together had been leaked. While your career and offered had considerably slowed, you hadn’t been completely stonewalled by all of Hollywood like he had.
He couldn’t help but resent that at moments, that you still got to live your dream while he was punished for doing what he thought had been right. He wouldn’t let that ruin your mood right now, though. “That’s great, what is it?”
You shrugged, going through the room and quickly changing into a long skirt and blouse. “He couldn’t give me many details over the phone. He wants me to head over to his house to pick up the script real quick.” You ran up to him, planted a quick kiss on his cheek and darted towards the hall. “I’ll be back for lunch,” you called over your shoulder.
Cooper sighed, overwhelmed slightly by your whirlwind of energy. He called out a quick goodbye he wasn’t sure you heard and tried to ignore the nauseating feeling settling in his stomach.
You stared up at Tom’s door, knocking quickly. You were the perfect picture of naïveté, wide-eyed and eager as you waited for him to open the door. When Tom wasn’t directing Nuka-Cola ads he directed only serious movies. The type that only critics liked.
Getting another serious role could really help in getting you back on track. Maybe you could even start helping Coop out, he was going to have to sell the house soon if he didn’t make real money.
The smile on your lips was hard to dismiss as you impatiently waited for the door to open. It didn’t take much longer, you could hear Tom approaching through it and then it was swinging open. He had a wide smile and seemed oddly breathless as he stared at you. “There you are! Come on in, I’ll grab the script.”
Not thinking much of the odd invitation you took a step inside and glanced around. You heard voices in the next room and your smile dropped just a little. “Come on,” he waved you forward when he noticed you had stopped, “I’ll get you something to drink.”
“Oh,” you took a hesitant step forward. “I’m fine, really, I need to get back home pretty quick.” Tom stopped in his tracks and turned around. The look on his face had your hairs standing on end, both of your smiles completely gone now.
“I said come in.” You tried to back up but your back hit something soft. Jumping forward, you turned to find one of the tallest men you’d ever seen towering over you. He pushed forward and you stumbled back, starting to feel real panic settle in.
He kept pushing until you found yourself standing in the middle of a crowded living room. Execs you recognized from meetings with your agent and premieres circled around you like a pack of hyenas. Each of them tittering and laughing, pointing at you with a dangerous gleam in their eyes.
You felt tears pricking your eyes, your gaze darting up to Tom. But he refused to look at you, accepting a large wad of cash from one man and shaking his hand. He spared you one brief glance, a distant regret in his eyes as he walked out the room.
You spun in a quick circle, breaths coming short and fast when the men started to close in on you. One of them grabbed you and you threw your elbow back into his face, it didn’t matter. They were all reaching for you now. Hands snagged on your blouse and the buttons popped open.
You opened your mouth, to scream or bite one of them, you don’t know, it didn’t matter. A large hand clamped around your mouth, forcing you to breathe in the cloth on their palm. You sucked in a sharp breath, something sweet tickling your nose before your eyes were rolling back in your head.
end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
I'm breaking in and stealing all of your drafts for hugh jackman(all of them)
-your favorite tumblr mutual bestie <3
Can you feed us some sfw and nsfw alphabet headcanons for Wolverine?
a/n: I picked and chose what I wanted from the SFW alphabet because I didn’t like all of the prompts for that/didn’t have ideas for all the letters. NSFW is directly after SFW and I did relatively the whole alphabet for that one. Even though I haven’t written any smut ever and it’s kind of against my blog rules. Bc this man is destroying my morals and integrity Y’all need to remember that it has been about a decade since I’ve watched any X-Men movies. This might not be completely character-accurate.
SFW alphabet
A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)
Big fan of side hugs, platonic or otherwise. And I just know he’s a walking heater, so he’s always warming you up
C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)
He’s the big spoon, likes knowing you’re safe in his arms, it’s comforting to him
D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)
He wouldn’t mind fucking off somewhere to the mountains and getting away from all the bullshit. He can take care of himself, he’s a decent cook and sort of tidy, but the more domestic roles would fall on his partner.
E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)
Brutally mean. In my head, the only reason he’s leaving is to protect you from something. And if the goal is keeping you as far away as possible then he’s going to be cruel and downright vicious to make sure you never want to come back.
G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)
Very gentle physically. He hates the idea of ever being the reason to physically cause you pain. But he’s less versed in being emotionally gentle. He’s blunt, if he hurts you it’s not on purpose and he’ll usually apologize for it once he’s realized his mistake.
H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)
I’ve kind of already covered this but he prefers hugs in showing physical affection. It feels secure to be holding you if that makes sense. He loves knowing that you’re safe in his arms. He does it relatively often, but especially when he notices you’re upset. I just know he gives the best hugs in the world.
I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)
Not very fast. He’s a bigger fan of action rather than words. You know he loves you before he verbally confirms it for you. And by that point, it doesn’t even really feel necessary to either of you. You know you love each other, know you’ll always have each other’s backs. (this is just making me realize how lonely I am ew)
J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)
I wouldn’t say he gets jealous, more overprotective. He knows you wouldn’t cheat on him or give in to someone flirting with you. But if someone can’t take the hint the first time you say no, he’s throwing hands, no hesitation. There’s no attempting to stop him, he’s on the guy before your second No is even said.
O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)
Slow, so slow. You guys could be old and dying and he’d randomly let slip another trauma he has that he never bothered mentioning and you’re just like, wtf
P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)
Depending on who's pissing him off, 0-60 in ten seconds. If it’s you, he has more patience than he would for some stranger on the street. He offers you a bit more grace and usually if he’s pissed at you he just snaps at someone else so he doesn’t upset you.
S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)
He’s extremely protective. Even if you’re not dating and are just close friends, he’s watching over you every chance he gets. He’d have your back during missions/fights, not overbearingly, but he’d keep his eye on you to make sure you’re okay. I don’t think he has a specific idea of how he’d like to be protected because he’s not used to someone doing that for him. But he’d be appreciative of a partner who stands up for him.
T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)
Minimal, from beginning of relationship to end. He’s just not the kind of guy to make a huge deal out of everything. That’s not to say he doesn’t put value on moments like that. But his celebrations are always small and his gifts are usually one or two things that hold a lot of sentimental value for you both
U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)
Being emotionally constipated. He’s not good at the whole talky-talky thing. He shoves shit down until it just explodes out of him.
W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)
He wouldn’t die without you, but there would always be a part of him that ached and longed for you. You’d be haunting his narrative like the wife that dies at the beginning of every movie ever
Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)
Night terrors 😀 You have to be sneaky about this one, I mean ninja roll out of bed so he doesn’t accidentally impale you with his claws
≿———————— ❈ ————————≾
Let's get freaky 😩
NSFW alphabet
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
He just lays with you, curled up around you. He’ll clean you up but he’s reluctant to let go of you right after you’re done. You love being curled up in his arms and he just appreciates the feeling of comfort you bring him.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
It’s cheesy but he loves your smile. Seeing you smile just makes him feel good inside. His hands also have a tendency to drift to your ass when you’re having fun.
Likes his arms/hands, but that really just has to do with the imagery they bring of holding you/your hand
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Likes cumming inside you but his favorite is to flip you over and finish on your back/ass. Seeing you painted in his cum, visibly marked by him, triggers some primal feeling of possessiveness inside him
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
This is less sexual in nature but I think the first few times you did it, his claws would come out when he came. You kept trying to come up with different lies about why you needed Charles to keep replacing sheets/beds but he saw right through you. Literally
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
From what I’ve learned about the comics, he was getting passed around that mansion like a toy. Everyone wanted a turn with him, he was the #1 harlot. So, yes, he knows exactly what he’s doing. And sometimes you’re secretly worried you might not be able to match his freak because he has got it on with everyone
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
It’s a toss-up between draped over your back and rutting into you like an animal and having your legs thrown over his shoulders, moving in deep and slow. It just depends on if he wants to drag this out or if he’s desperate to feel you come around him.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Not really goofy, he might screw around after and he can be lighthearted during the moment but he’s not actively making jokes. If one of you does something embarrassing he’ll laugh it off or just completely ignore it and keep going.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Mayhaps this is my own personal biases showing but man is hairy. Everywhere. It’s not a jungle down there, he keeps it trimmed, but the bush is solid.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
It’s always extremely intimate, you two are completely enwrapped in each other. But a lot of times sex is used to blow off steam when you hit a rough patch in the relationship. Like I’ve said, he works through actions, not words. More often than not you’re having rough, I mean rough sex. Scratching each other up and battling for control. That’s not to say he can’t be romantic, but it tends to be more wild than anything.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
If he’s got you then he’s not super interested in masturbating anymore. He’s got a high sex drive so more often than not he’s just dragging you off somewhere. I do think that he likes to play a game with you. You’re both masturbating, watching the other get closer and closer, and seeing who snaps and makes the first move.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Again, personal bias, but I think his mutant abilities allow him to tap into a primal/animalistic side that most guys wouldn’t touch. And I think this shows through with predator/prey play. He likes chasing you around, catching you and pinning you down, showing you who's stronger and faster.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Bed, it’s basic, but he likes to be able to toss you around a little. Plus, he’s got an insane amount of stamina, he needs somewhere that you can both be as loud as you want for as long as you want.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
You, just you. You’re like a drug to him. Knowing that you’re his and he gets to have you all the time is enough for him. But oddly, I think making you laugh would turn him on. I don’t know why, I can’t explain it, but knowing he’s the reason you’re smiling and happy gets him going.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
He likes getting a little rough with you but I don’t think he’d be okay with seriously doing damage. He probably wouldn’t draw blood or bring his claws out during sex because he’s afraid of doing serious harm.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He loves receiving but his preference is giving. Man is a certified munch™️
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Again, depends on if you've pissed each other off or not. More often than not, he takes it slow with you. He enjoys the intimacy of the act, being able to feel you, and have you bear yourself to him with the utmost trust is something he takes pride in. so, he likes to savor the moment.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
He loves them, loves the risk of getting caught. His favorite thing to do is drag you into an empty room and clamp a hand over your mouth, telling you to be quiet or you’ll get caught. You never have before, but you don’t think he’d stop if someone did walk in.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Game to experiment with most things. I doubt he’s a huge fan of extreme play, he’s basic I would say but not vanilla.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Your heart would give out before he’s done with you
Refractory period? We don’t know her
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
You guys don’t use toys because you don’t need them. That doesn’t mean he’s against using a few on you, but it’s not something that’s a facet of your sex lives.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Oh, he’s a little bitch about teasing you. You can’t last half as long as he can during sex so he likes to edge, drag your orgasm on and on and on until you can’t take it anymore.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Not very loud. I don’t think he cares about making noises/thinks they’re embarrassing. But he tends to make quieter noises, low grunts, and growls, breathless praises whispered in your ear.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Perchance this is because I’m going absolutely feral and insane for him, but I think he’s put out a cigar on you before. (WITH CONSENT) (please god, one chance)
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
I know it’s THICK. You didn’t think it would fit the first time you guys had sex, but he made it work.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Wants you 24/7 365, if it was up to him, you two would just never be apart from each other.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Not fast at all, he probably smokes or has a drink. He’s got insane stamina and practically no refractory period. So, while you’re boneless and dead to the world he could probably go another round.
a/n: yes, I did make that picture at the top. If I ever saw him in real life I probably would throw myself at his car.
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.
General Taglist: @evasmlp
Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always ♡
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