ANIME @animelover1145 - Tumblr Blog

Through the Years

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ᴀ ɢʟɪᴍᴘꜱᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ɢᴏᴊᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴄᴜʀꜱɪɴɢ. ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ/ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ. ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪʀɢɪɴɪᴛʏ (ɴᴏ ꜱᴇx) ɴᴀᴏʏᴀ ᴢᴇɴɪɴ (ʜᴇ ɪꜱ ɢʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴇᴅꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ)

ɪ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ ɪɴ ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ʙᴀʙʏ. ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ᴢᴇɴɪɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ᴏᴠᴇʀ 5ᴋ (ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍʏ ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴇʏᴇᴅ ᴋɪɴɢ)

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

December 7, 2005 (Gojo: 16 You: 15)

"You know you're practically a senior citizen now."

Gojo's head whips around, insulted at the idea of being called old. Sure he's got white hair but he's just turned 16, not 61.

"You're only a year younger than me, y'know. You'll be 16 soon too." He grins

Gojo grins as you roll your eyes next to him.

"At least I don't have white hair already." You point out

"Whatever, at least I'm not two inches tall." Gojo laughs, resting an elbow on your head.

"I'm still growing!" You defend, angry at the idea of staying the same height forever. "Get your ugly arm off me!"

"I'll have you know my arm is gorgeous," Gojo says, blue eyes catching the sunlight as he easily matches your pace.

"Mmhmm." You roll your eyes

To keep it simple, Satoru Gojo got under your skin. Perhaps it was that annoying smile or maybe the fact that your clan notoriously hated his. All you knew was that he drove you insane and you wished he'd just disappear so he could never bother you again.

"Where is everyone? I thought we agreed to meet here at 4," Gojo whined next to you.

"Worried your boyfriend stood you up?" You tease. thinking of the dark-haired boy who was usually joined to Gojo's hip most days.

retrosabers

𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐒.

here are all of my favorite logan fics! i will continue to add to this as i read more. as always, any smut is marked with a *. please go support these talented writers!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

i’m down on my knees, i wanna take you there by @thebestandworstdayofjune

guess by @bpmiranda *

my girl by @imaginedisish *

sugar, sugar and come on and show me by @eupheme *

a peaceful repose by @d1stalker

i don’t know why i bite by @not-neverland06

night rides w/old man logan by @eufezco *

guard dog by @ovaryacted *

dig your claws right into me , can’t get started , and make him do what i say by @dollfacefantasy *

easing by @yesimwriting

the honda odyssey by @coweye *

white hot forever by @eddies-ashtray *

diet pepsi by @flowersforbucky *

time after time by @hyper-fixates *

the art of make believe matrimony by @gothgoblinbabe

truth or dare by @pandapetals

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

i-wanna-write

If One's Different, One's Bound to be Lonely - Wolverine Fic

Fic Synopsis: We know Wolverine and Sabertooth but the reader is known as Jackal. Just like the other two, their mutation is animalistic, lending them healing factors, enhanced physical abilities, and animal senses. This fic details their relationship with the Anchor!Wolverine and how they ended up meeting the Worst!Logan

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

Chapter Warnings: violence, cussing, lewd comments/thoughts, lots of angst

Word Count: 4k+

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Many months passed and it took you a while to become semi-comfrortable living at the school. The first few weeks were completely overwhelming. You spent half your time in your room, needing space from the voices, the scents, the people.

You did not teach at first, Charles allowing you to grow accustomed to school and being in civilization again. Your days consisted of you using the combat training room and prepping lesson plans for teaching - something you found yourself terrible to do.

You could easily teach the kids how to defend themselves and harness their powers. You did it yourself so many years ago. But deciding what books to read and why was proving to be difficult.

The bright side of living at the school was that you were able to find friendship in Ororo. The two of you ate dinner together everyday, yourself not being much of a morning person. You were able to eat with some conversation, though never going too deep. You learned that she taught an elective of multicultural studies and discovered her mutations when she was only nine years old.

Another bright side was that Charles allowed you to frequent the woods in the surrounding area when you needed a break from others. You were able to fully be yourself, not keen on showing the students the full capability of your mutation yet.

Soon, you felt comfortable enough and found it ridiculous that you were nervous to teach. You were surprisingly good and due to your love of literature and ability to read people, you were able to plan lessons that the kids actually enjoyed. They always seemed to be engaged in your classes and had deep thoughts about whatever book you were reading.

When it came to combat training, the kids actually respected you, though some were even scared of you. You figured to throw caution to the wind and started day one with explaining your mutation and letting the kids who felt comfortable to do so too. You explained to them how it was important to have confidence and embrace their abilities. To not be afraid or ashamed of them.

In addition to being the resident doctor, Jean also taught biology courses and was dating mister stoic, Scott. The cyclops taught geometry and continued to annoy you to no end.

A year into living in the school, Charles pulled you into his office one day. He explained how he and some of the faculty are what he deemed the “X-Men”. How they scout for other students or adults to join their school, as well as take down any threats, mutant or not.

So that became your life for the next three years, joining Scott, Ororo, and Jean on missions to find other recruits. Sometimes Charles would send you and Ororo on solo missions, knowing that you’ve gotten your hands dirty in the past and had no qualms doing so in the future.

You weren’t offended by that notion. You were confident in yourself and not ashamed of your past. If these people could accept you despite it, you could accept yourself. You were happy to be the go-to mutant to take down any enemies - especially when it meant helping kids who needed it.

You were able to get more comfortable around others, Charles helping you explain the concept of ‘putting up a wall’ in your mind. The wall allowed you to limit the increased stimuli your instincts constantly gathered.

The next three years of our life you were content. You may have even considered yourself happy.

Until a man you never thought you’d see again showed up.

And he didn’t remember you.

You just got back from a solo-mission, your aim to gather intel on a mutant named Magento and his brotherhood of mutants. His right hand man, another mutant similar to a Sabertooth was spotted and Charles sent you to do some scouting. Your skill of adaptability comes in handy.

But as soon as you entered the school, Charles’ voice entered your head.

“Y/N, come to my office, it’s urgent.”

Odd, as the man rarely enters without your permission, you quickly made your way to that destination. You passed Ororo and Scott on the way, both looking weary but not speaking a word to you. You reached Charle’s office and knocked, waiting for a response.

“Come in,” his voice sounded and you did as he said.

You entered and froze at seeing a man from your past. There, standing in Charle’s office was Logan. Was the Wolverine. He was dressed in gray sweatpants and sweatshirt, ones that definitely did not fit him.

Your eyes gaze over him, noting how his build seems larger than before if possible. The sweatshirt was zipped halfway, showing off his brown chest hair that you missed so much. His shoulders are broader, arms more defined. You finally reach his face and a gasp leaves your mouth. You can’t help it.

He looked the exact same as all those years ago. His jaw is lined with stubble, longer than you've seen it before. His hair was longer as well, the tufts on either side more pronounced then you’ve ever seen.

You take a deep breath to inhale the scent you missed so much. Smokey like a cigar, a splash of whiskey, something that you always defined solely as Logan. Only there’s something else.

Something different.

When your gaze finally meets the rich brown you’ve been dreaming about, there is no softness like you expected. No look of trust and warmth. No recognition.

Instead, they were filled with distrust and confusion.

You felt like you were stabbed through the heart.

“I know this is Logan, and you knew him in the past.,” Charles’ voice starts in your head. “But I’ve looked into his head and he has no memory of you. In fact, he has no memory of anything past ten years ago.”

You give a stubble nod, showing Charles you understand. You swallow a lump in your throat but do your best to remain professional.

“Miss. Y/L/N. I’d like you to meet Logan.” Charles begins introductions, gesturing to Logan with one hand. He brought a teenager here and will be staying for the time being to help us assist against Magento. We think the girl, Rogue, is wanted by Magneto.” Charles begins to explain before turning his attention to Logan. “Logan, this is Professor Y/N. She teaches English Literature and helps out with Combat Training. In addition, she is a member of the X-Men and one of my most trusted companions.”

That’s news to you.

“Y/N, I was hoping you could give Logan a tour and show him where he will be staying for the time being.” Charles finishes.

“Um.” You hesitate before clearing your throat. “Of course.”

No. You do not want to be around this Logan. This is not your Logan. This is someone entirely different. Someone who had to have gone through something similar to you to not have his memories. To smell different.

“Wonderful! I’ll leave you two to it.” Charles finishes, dismissing the both of you.

You look to Logan, motioning with your head for him to follow you at the door. The man looks at you with distrust before sighing and doing so. You close the door to Charles' office, stopping to turn to the man you used to know.

“Sorry about Charles or any of the other people you met already. While they’re also mutants, they don’t get people like us.” You say quietly, knowing he’ll hear you.

“Us?” He questions, eyebrow arched.

His voice, too, is the same it was all those years ago. Rough and husky that sends a feeling throughout your entire body. You shake that thought and send him a sly smirk. You raise your right hand, growing your claws on it and flashing your sharp teeth.

“Us.” You say.

Logan raises an eyebrow in surprise at this. You wonder if you’re still the only female mutant like him he's met before - except he doesn’t recognize you so he’s now meeting you for the first time. You watch as his gaze travels down your body, as if assessing you for the first time. His mistrust seems to grow in you as his eyes narrow. You should have expected that, with what happened during your first meeting and all. A feral with another feral could lead to someone getting their throat ripped out.

“Shall we begin the tour?” You don’t wait for a response, turning on your heels and walking down the hall.

…

The tour ends with you bringing Logan to his assigned room, the one right across from yours. Lucky you. You open the door and step in, throwing your hands up and spinning around the room.

“And this is where you will be staying. You got a bed, dresser, nightstand, closet, and private bathroom.”

You watch as Logan steps into the room, looking around and taking it in. He was quiet throughout the tour but you could tell he had questions. That he was observing and reading you, waiting for a moment to escape or attack if he needed to. The two of you were still so similar. His personality was exactly as you remembered it. Confident but not cocky, smart but not arrogant. You just wished he remembered you.

“I’ll leave you to it.” You give a tight lipped smile and go to leave, passing him as you do so.

His arm grabs yours, stopping you. Unlike the last time you first met though, his claws don’t come out and pierce you. He merely grabs you and turns you to face him.

Goosebumps arise on your skin as this is the first time you’ve been touched by him in so many years. You hope he doesn’t notice the reaction he gets from you. The increase of your breathing and heartbeat. The slight blush you’re sure you’re wearing.

Your gaze goes from his eyes, to his hand, then back to his eyes. He immediately lets go, his face almost looking apologetic before he stops himself.

“How did you end up here?” He asks after a moment of silence, as if he’s waited the whole day to ask. “How can you stand being here?” He shakes his head, as if he can't fathom being around all these people.

You let out a chuckle.

“I couldn’t stand it. Not at first. I’ve lived my whole life alone,” You stretch the truth “enjoying the comfort of it. Charles found me and I was hesitant at first. But, I realized I could be the person I needed years ago. It’s been a good few years for me since I came here.” You reveal, not wanting to say too much.

Not wanting to say how much you missed him. Or how you’d wait for him to show up on your front porch. Or ask what he’s been up to. Or what has happened to him to not remember things.

“And they don’t care that you’ve -”

You cut him off. “Killed people?” You shake your head. “No. If anything it gives them an excuse not to get their hands dirty.”

Logan stares at you, as if pondering your answer. You don’t give him time to explain, stepping halfway at the door.

“I’ll leave you to get settled. During your stay, if you need booze, you won't find it here. Charles doesn’t allow it in common areas due to the kids around. But feel free to knock on my door. I have lots of beer and whiskey.” You shoot him a smile.

You cross the hall and unlock your own door, not looking back and closing it. You then lean against it and slide down to the ground, silently letting your tears fall.

…

The next morning, you cry again. You can’t help it. Everything you imagined happening to Logan the past years, this wasn’t it.

You always assumed he was out there searching for you too. That the two of you would eventually find eachother again and simply missed each other in passing every so often.

You never expected this.

You’re currently sitting in med bay with Ororo, Scott, and Charles. Jean ran tests on Logan, examining his mutation and performed a full body scan - all similar to your own when you first arrived. The results startled you. All his bones have been coated with a metal called Adamantium. It was surgically grafted into his entire skeleton.

That explains the change in his scent.

Jean explained how his mutation is the reason he survived the surgery. His regeneration capability allowed him to heal rapidly. Jean added how determining his age could be impossible because of this. His was very similar to your own mutation, she added.

Ironic that you’ve been dying to know the similarities between you two all those years ago. Yet you find out the worst way imaginable.

“Who did this to him?” Scott questions, voicing everyone's thoughts.

“He doesn’t know.” You speak up before Jean can. “And I bet he doesn’t remember everything about his life before it happened.”

All four of your companions look at you, surprised at your knowledge.

“That’s correct.” Jeans confirms. “How do you know that?”

You look to Charles for guidance. You weren’t sure if you should reveal that you’ve met Logan before. That his name was James and he had a brother named Victor. That he enjoyed whiskey on the rocks and added too much salt to his steak. That he smoked cigars in bed and was a blanket hog.

“Share what you’d like. We won’t tell him.” Charles promises, getting nods from the others.

You swallow, trying to form words to discuss a past you’ve long since tried to forget. “I haven’t seen him in many years..” You start. “I met him in the 50s, and we ran into each other for the next ten years or so. He went off to Vietnam and got tangled with some people but we found eachother again.” You close your eyes, remembering the day like it was yesterday. “We lived peacefully for six years. We were… normal. Until one day, I was captured and we saw each other for the last time.” You finish, keeping it short and concise.

“You guys ran into each other or you guys ran into each other?” Ororo questions from your right.

You shake your head at the woman, knowing what her thoughts are. You couldn’t blame her. Logan looked just as appetizing fifteen years later.

“You trust him?” Jean questions, asking you curiously.

You can tell she wants to dive into your mind. To figure out Logans past from you and try to work through how to help him. That’s how Jean is, you've come to learn. Always wanting to solve the next puzzle.

You sigh, thinking of that question before finding your answer. “Back then, our roles were reversed. I was more feral, more likely to get into a fight or kill someone. I hated being around anyone and solely followed my instincts. He was the calm one. He had no qualms ignoring his instincts. Now though, although his personality is the same, he’s definitely not the man I knew back then. But if there’s one thing I’m sure of, he’ll still have good morals. ”

Which was the truth. Even when you saw Logan at his worst, he knew right from wrong.

There’s silence again, everyone taking in your answer. They knew of your past and didn’t think any differently. But they weren’t sure about a stranger in the school full of teens. A stranger that solely trusted his animalistic instincts with indestructible metal throughout his entire body.

You had to add the part about his morals. That was the very first thing you admired about him. He always seemed to not want to cause harm, cause destruction. He always seemed to want to make the right choice.

“Experimentation on mutants. It’s not unheard of but I’ve never seen anything like this before.” Charles breaks the silence.

“What do you think Magneto wants with him?” Scott questions.

“I’m not entirely sure it’s what Magneto wants.” Charles reveals.

…

Later that day, you follow Jean into the exam room where Logan sits upon the table. He’s back to wearing the great sweatshirt and sweatpants and looks up as you too enter.

“So?” He asks, seeming to ignore your presence.

“The metal is throughout your entire skeletal system, as expected.” Jean informs him.

He snorts, as if to say ‘I told you so’. His eyes take you in as they did last night. Only this time they only hold curiosity. You guess that's a step up from mistrust.

“So why are we here again? You people got your pictures.” He tells you.

“With my abilities, I might be able to grab a memory and see it.” Jean simply explains to him. The two of you make your way towards the man, you behind him while Jean is in front. His gaze solely focuses on you, as if he poses you as the bigger threat and doesn’t want his back to be turned.

“And you brought the English Lit teacher because?” Logan questions, not turning to look at the doctor.

“It might hurt and I probably rival your strength the best here.” You smile snarkily, wanting to smack the condescending look off his face.

“Whatever you think bub.” He states.

You roll your eyes but don’t say anything, looking to see if Jean is ready. The woman nods and you place both of your hands on either of his shoulders. You squeeze and press down with your strength, smirking slightly at the way Logan tenses. If he was going to be a dick to you without even knowing you, then you were going to be a bitch back.

“Ready?” Jean asks, raising her hands to both his temples but not touching him.

You feel Logan take a deep breath and you assume he closes his eyes before Jean does the same. His body immediately tenses up and you take a guess that he probably would have moved if you weren't holding him, You watch as Jean's eyes flutter back and forth beneath her eyelids as she tries to uncover any memory. Not even thirty seconds later, Jean’s hands are removed and Logan relaxes.

“What did you see?” He asks her.

You watch as Jean stares at him before saying, “Scott.”

You turn to the door and see the man standing there. Jeans doesn’t answer Logan's question and bids you both goodnight, Leaving the two of you alone.

“Guess you’ll find out tomorrow, tough guy.” You tease before walking out of the room and leaving him alone.

…

You wake to a shout. You immediately rush out of bed, dressed in sleep shorts and a t-shirt that's seen better days. You open your door and look up and down the hallway, seeing no one there. You start to head back to your room before you hear another shout, realizing it’s coming from Logan’s room.

Throwing caution to the wind, you enter his room and quickly shut the door to find him thrashing around on his bed. You slowly walk closer, knowing how to be silent, and look over him as he has what you assume is a nightmare.

Sweat litters his brow and shirtless torso, his eyes moving under his eyelids. He continues to thrash, his head moving side to side as another shout escapes him. You can’t bear the thought of him going through this.

“Logan.” you whisper, body standing on the left side of his bed. “Logan.” You say a little louder.

It does nothing to wake him and he continues to dream, body moving more as if it’s becoming worse. Sighing, you lean forward with your left hand, reaching down to touch his left shoulder. Before you can touch him though, he awakes.

“Arrghh!” He exclaims, a schilt noise heard before you feel metal pierce your body.

“Fuck!” You shout in pain, feeling your breath catch in your throat, guessing that a lung or both have been punctured.

You begin to gasp for breath, feeling as you open your mouth but nothing will enter it and make it to your lungs. You E/C eyes match dark brown and you see a now awake Logan staring up at you, eyes filled with concern.

“Help me.” Logan says. “Somebody help!” He screams as you continue to struggle for breath.

For some reason, your body is taking longer than usual to heal and you don’t like that thought one bit. You’ve survived so much in your long life. Bullets, Animals. Other mutants. Knives. You are damned if the man you used to love is the one that kills you.

Willing your body to cooperate and heal, you raise a hand to one of the wounds and grow our own claws. You then dig them in, and it seems to snap your body out of shock, starting to heel. It’s at that moment the light flickers on and you turn to see Scott, Jean, and Ororo enter the room, children standing in the hallway.

“What happened, are you okay?” Ororo asks, immediately rushing to your side along with Jean while Scott tries to block the kids.

“Yeah. I just startled him and got to close. His claws got me.” You explaining, looking at both the concerned women and smiling lightly.

“Then why did he scream for help?” Jean questions, lifting your shirt to see where the wounds should be, already gone and healed.

“I don’t think my brain registered what happened. My healing didn’t trigger right away so I sped up the process.” You explained.

“Healing?” Logan questions from behind.

Suddenly remembering you’re in his room and have an audience, you glance up at Scott and the kids, addressing everyone except the man seated on the bed behind you.

“I’m okay. We’re okay.” You start. “Everyone back to bed. You have class in the morning.”

Some of the kids groan, probably excited that they saw more action tonight than they have throughout all of their combat training. You look to Ororo and Jean and say,

“I’m okay, promise.”

They both search your face for a moment, looking for any signs of a lie. But since you’ve known them, you’ve been evasive yes but never lied to them, furthering their trust of you. They seem to believe you, both nodding before turning around and leaving the room. Ororo shoots you a small smile before closing the door so you’re now alone with Logan.

You turn and look at the stranger wearing the familiar face. He’s still sitting on the edge of the bed, his face full of concern and staring at you. His gaze still seems to continue to roam your body, as if not believing you’re okay.

Even though he doesn’t remember you, you remember him. It breaks your heart to see him like this. You walk closer to him, his gaze never leaving. You gesture with your hand to the seat on his left, silently asking if you can have a seat there.

He nods, turning his head to look at you. You take the seat and lick your lips and sigh before starting to speak. “When I said you and I are alike, I wasn’t lying. Your mutation is similar to that of the Wolverine animal. Mine is similar to a Jackal.”

Reconfizition immediately fills his face. You hope, for one second, it’s a memory. Maybe you were in his dream. Or maybe, be some stroke of luck, he’s remembering you and all your times together. But that’s not what happens.

“I’ve heard of you,” He starts, his voice gruff. “A mutant that relies solely on their instincts. Known for hunting down dangerous mutants.”

You smile slightly at that. “That’s me.”

“But I’ve heard about them existing in the mid 1900s. You don’t look like you're 80.” Logan says, his eyes moving across your face, as if observing if your true ability is to simply disguise your age.

“Hence how we’re alike so much. I was born in 1895. I have regenerative abilities that cause me to age slowly. And also heal quickly.” You inform him by gesturing to your healed wounds.

His gaze travels down, able to see your stomach through the holes in your shirt - which you have no qualms about. He has seen you naked before - memory or not.

“Have we ever, I mean,” Logan pauses, as if searching for how to ask a question. “If I’m as old as Jean thinks I am, and you're as old as you are, have we ever met before?”

His voice is hopeful, as if you can be the answer to his lost memory. You immediately think of what could possibly go wrong if you tell him the truth. You certainly don't think it would jog his memory. If anything he could possibly look at you with pity if you tell him everything. How you guys got to know each other and all it entailed.

You sigh though. You don’t want to lie to the man. You decide honesty with some hidden truth is the best option.

“Our paths crossed over forty years ago. We ran into each other a few times after.. Just shared about our experiences as mutants.”

Surprise and relief covers his face. You wish you could be fully transparent, you really do. But you know it wouldn’t be fair to him. He’s essentially a new person, he has a chance to start over. Forget all the wrong he did and maybe do some good.

“What was I like?” He questions and you knew it was coming.

“Exactly the same.” Your reveal. “Confident but not cocky. Smart but not arrogant.” You leave the explanation at that, not wanting to dive deeper into how he's the same person but now has a chance to do different things. “Can I ask a question?” You try to change the subject.

Logan sighs, as if knowing you were going to. Since Jean revealed his adamantium skeleton, one question has been on your mind.

“When your claws come out, do they hurt?” You needed to know. Needed to know if what he went through continues to torture him everyday.

“Every damn time.” Logan reveals.

Your heart breaks even more, if possible.

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Tag List: @randomblogzsblog, @sebastianstanblog, @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @somiaw @sseleniaa @whyamistillontumbler

i-wanna-write

If One’s Different, One’s Bound to be Lonely - Wolverine Fic

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Chapter Warnings: Angst, cussing, brief discussion medical malpractice

Word Count: 4k+

A/N: Lots angst. Moving this plot along

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You searched for Logan after you escaped the facility. All Canadian territories then all the rural states of America. You searched for months, for years. Soon, it was five years since your capture and every day you had some hope that you’d find him again.

It eventually felt like forever since you saw him and had slowly come to accept that he was going to be like everyone who came into your life. A fleeting moment for a few years that turned into just a memory. As that’s how it went when you’re a mutant with a long life span.

So you tried to forget about him and his soft lips and muscular build. His smoky scent and dark brown eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite grasp. The way he entered you and made you feel almost loved, normal. You tried to forget.

But it was hard.

Especially when you were sleeping. You used to love it, how you’d dream of him when he was at war and wake up remembering your time together. But now your dreams taunt you and your nightmares are worse. Your dreams are memories and made up scenarios of moments with Logan.

The two of you are hunting together. The two of you are cooking dinner. The two of you in bed. Sometimes there’s a child in there, those ones wake you up in tears.

Others are memories of your month in the facility. Strapped to the table, needles poking you, and someone prying in your most intimate part. Those ones wake you up in bouts of anger, claws grown and sheets shredded.

You went about the next ten years of your life as you did before meeting the two brothers. It was almost easy to fall back into your old routine. Never expecting to run into someone you know or another mutant. You continued traveling across the United States and Canada. Finding secluded cabins and routinely buying supplies then simply living off the land and animals around you as you did once before.

You decided perhaps this was how your life was supposed to be. That you were meant to move around and be alone forever.

Your personal library continued to grow in size, having over 200 books now. Their genres ranged from science fiction, to romance, to poetry, to historical nonfiction. But you still had your favorite. Only it became your favorite for perhaps a totally different reason.

So, you easily fell back into your old ways, trying to keep James in a locked part of your mind. Your days were back to reading, occasionally stealing, sometimes killing another mutant who was dangerous and looking for a fight. You accepted a life alone was truly meant for you.

You are currently living outside Montreal, enjoying the sunlight as it shined down on your skin. You were renting a small cabin on a campground for the month. It was a little closer to civilization then you liked but nature for some reason always called to you. You weren’t able to hunt as you would’ve liked, in fear of being seen, but were still able to be alone and read, occasionally taking a dip in the lake if you wanted.

The food in the local restaurants were also really good. A rare burger or steak always called to you and for some reason, people in the town knew the perfect way to cook it.

So that’s where you were now, face buried in a burger with a side of fries and of course whiskey your drink of choice. Not that you were an alcoholic as it took almost triple the amount of a non mutant to get your drunk.

You were currently reading 1984 by George Orwell. It was surprisingly your first time reading it and you were enjoying it thus far - it’s themes similar to Brave New World. For some reason your favorite book choices tend to reflect the same world you lived in.

“Ah. 1984. ‘Where there is equality, there is sanity’. A great read in my opinion.” A man’s voice sounded suddenly.

Only the words weren’t said aloud. No, they were said from inside your head. Tensing, you put your book down and immediately glanced around your area. You didn’t see anyone in sight but did pick up three scents that you didn’t recall smelling when you moved in. You assumed they were intruders and couldn’t be your neighbors.

You stood, lunch and book now forgotten. Your claws grew to reveal themselves and you scanned the area again, trying to see through the foliage for who you assumed were three mutants.

And with your history, you didn’t want to bet that they were friendly.

“You can put them away. We mean you no harm.” The voice sounded in your head again.

“Yeah, how ‘bout you show yourselves and I be the judge of that ,asshole.” You thought back at it, itching for a fight.

Ever since your capture, you were more paranoid, more inclined to trust your instincts. You got too complacent, too happy the years you lived with James. You realize your instincts are the only thing you can truly trust.

Suddenly, the sound of leaves crunching and twigs snapping sound from your right and you turned to see three adults make their way through the woods.

One was a women. She was dressed in black pants and a jean jacket. Her hair was gray, though she looked to be the same age your body appeared. Another was a man, who for some reason looked familiar. Then it clicked. It was the same man that was there the day you escaped the facility. He was dressed in jeans and a flannel. He was wearing sunglasses again that had red tints rather than the black, his hands stuffed into his front pockets. He too looked to be around your age.

The final man was older, perhaps pushing 70. He was bald and dressed odd for an outing in the woods as he was wearing a suit. He had no hair and appeared kind with a smile on his face, as if he held all the secrets in the world. He was also in a wheelchair, using a power control on his right to push forward.

“Hello Y/N.” The old man said as the three came to a stop about ten feet in front of you.

“The fuck are you?” You questioned, noting that this was the same voice from inside your head.

You did a quick scan of the area, always having an escape plan and an attack plan ready if needed.

“You do not need to escape or attack. We merely would like to talk.” The old man added.

“Stay the fuck out of my head old man.” You growled menacingly, not liking how he could read your thoughts one bit.

“Understood.” He began. “I’m sorry to have intruded. But I did not want us to startle you.”

“Who are you? Why are you here,” you asked, nodding at the three.

Why are three mutants, and by their scents, with completely different mutations, together?

“Ah, yes. Introductions. My name is Charles Xavier and this is Ororo Monroe and I believe you may have recognized Scott Summers.” The man gestured with his hand to his respective companions.

“Well, thank you for getting me out of that shit hole but it doesn't explain why you’re here.” You state, wanting him to get to the point.

“It’s a bit difficult to explain but I know you’re aware we three are like you. We -“

“I’ll stop you right there old man.” You interrupt, holding up a clawed hand. “Only met two others who are like me, and no offense, you guys aren’t.”

Charles nods. “My apologies. You are correct, our mutation is not like yours. However, we do have our own unique set of abilities. As you’ve already been exposed to, I acquire the ability of telepathy and can speak inside another’s mind.”

“Congratulations.” You say sarcastically. “You can go now.” You point to the way they came.

“This is a waste of time Charles.” The man to his left speaks up. “She didn’t wannna come ten years ago and she sure as hell won’t come now.”

You turn your attention to him and you notice how he smells a little of fear. As if he knows who you are and what your capable of. You smile at that thought. It seems he’s done some research on you since your last meeting.

Charles ignored the man, Scott, and continues. “With telepathy, I can also reach out and find other mutants. After Scott informed me of you, I’ve been searching for you. Although, I can only pick up those within a few hundred miles radius. A few days ago, I found you.”

“You're saying you’ve been inside my head, just poking around for the last few days!” You question, voice beginning to raise and anger starting to enter you.

You can’t even begin to think what Charles has seen in your head. The lives you’ve taken. The few you’ve saved. The moments between you and James.

These people are definitely bad news.

“We are not bad news.” Charles states.

You go to yell again, irritated that he once again entered your head. However, you don’t get the chance as the woman finally speaks.

“We run a school.” She reveals, your eyes meeting hers and seeing no threat, no violence. Only concern and sincerity. “We recruit children who are mutants like us. We teach them regular classes that normal kids go to, as well as others that help them learn to control and grow their abilities. Sometimes, a few of us go out on missions and help those in danger.”

You take a moment at that, listening to her heartbeat to determine if she is truthful. You only hear the steady beat. You notice how her respiration is also steady and there’s no sweat - all the simple signs of being deceitful.

“Again, congratulations.” You start. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

“Simple. We want to recruit you.” Charles says simply, a smile on his face.

You laugh. You can’t help it. You’ve never been around people more than a few days in ten years and here comes three lunatics who apprently want you to attend their school. Maybe you’d have said yes before everything happened, but you cannot imagine being surrounded by so many people. Your life is insane.

“Recruit me?” You ask incredulously. “Sorry but I’ve been out of school for about, hmmm, 70 years.”

“Not as a student, but as a teacher.” Ororo corrects a small smile on her face as if she saw your laughter amusing.

You laugh again. These people have got to be on soemthing.

“If you’ve been in my head the past few days like you claim to have been” you point at Charles, “Then you know I hate being around people. You know that-“

“You get territorial. That you can easily blend into your environment? That you have 207 books in your own personal library - most that you did not obtain legally? That your favorite book is Brave New World and that you enjoy hunting for your own food and occasionally taking out what you deem ‘assholes who shouldn’t be on Earth’?”

You gape. You can’t help it. You guess this guy has been in your head. You grimace at what he may have seen.

“Just, give us time to explain a little more. Maybe visit the school. If you want nothing to do with it after - that’s okay. We won’t bother you again.” Charles proposes.

You swallow, thinking this through. While you do not know what the other two’s abilities are, you’re confident you can take them if the need arises. They seem sincere. Well, maybe not Scott but Charles and Ororo do.

If they want you to teach there, maybe this is your opportunity to finally understand the world. Why non-mutants hold so much hatred. Maybe you’d actually be able to learn how to handle being around other people- how to not be lonely.

With all these thoughts in mind, you nod.

…

The moment you visited Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters you said yes to teaching there.

You couldn’t explain it, but the school was different than anyplace you’ve ever been. Maybe it was because it was place solely for mutants. Maybe because you realized you could be yourself without the threat of revealing yourself. Maybe because it made you feel less alone.

You didn’t have someone there to guide you when you discovered your mutation. You didn’t have someone to explain your mutation. To help you through all the differences you had compared to the average human. You realized you could make a difference at the school. Being there for kids just like how you wanted someone to be there for you.

Charles, or old man as you continued to call him, only fondly, offered you to teach English and Literature, as well as assist with combat training due to your skill in that field. You agreed, excited for the opportunity to share your love of literature with younger minds.

You were given your own room, which was connected to a private bathroom. You brought the minimal items you owned with you, as well as all 207 books from your personal library. Due to the room size, your books were brought into your classroom, with the exception of some that you kept in your nightstand and a bookshelf in your room.

There was a communicable mess hall for meals, as well as a kitchen that everyone had access to at any time during the day. In addition, faculty had access to all classrooms if needed as well as the combat room.

You learned that Scott’s mutation was the cause of him wearing sunglasses 24/7. He was able basically shoot lasers from his eyes. Apprently the sunglasses prevented that from happening.

Ororo’s mutation was interesting to you, as it was soemthing you never thought possible. She has the ability to manipulate the weather and atmosphere. She could call a snowstorm at hand, a lightening strike, or even tornado.

You made a note to yourself to never piss her off.

The one thing you bregudebly relented to was a physical exam by Dr. Jean Grey. Charles informed you that at any moment you could stop the exam and nothing further would be done.

But you wanted to do it. For some reason you trusted Charles and he trusted Jean so you allowed the exam to happen.

Jean was a women that appeared a few years younger then you. She was tall, with fair skin and long red shit. She was a strong telepath that thankfully didn't invade your mind, understanding the invasion of privacy.

She was completely professional throughout the whole thing. Quickly drawing your blood, listening to your heart, and asking you to show off your mutation. She completed a gyno exam, gave you a full body CT scan - the school was super rich cause you have no idea how they could afford one - and an ultrasound.

All that was the during the first week of your stay and found you where you are now: seated in what they call the review room, listening as Jean explains her findings with Ororo and Charles present.

You did not like Scott, and did not want that man present to hear what you’ve been through. He seemed to have a superiority complex and you’d rather claw your own eyes out than have him know what was done to you.

You sit in front of a large screen, your body scans on view. You have no idea what you’re looking l at or what the numbers on the screen mean. Ororo is seated to your left with Charles in his wheelchair on your right.

Jean stands in front of you all, an electronic tablet in her hand - soemthing you didn’t even know existed. Again, this school is rich.

“From my results, I was able to hypothesize a few things that may have happened while you were held for a month.” Jean starts, having you on the edge of your feet.

“Is it safe to assume that once your mutation revealed itself, you never got sick” she questions, looking to you.

You nod as it’s the truth. You’ve never had the common cold, seasonal allergies, or the stomach bug.

“I’m assuming they injected you with multiple viruses to see how your body would react. I myself did that with one blood sample and a known strain of measles. When I combined the two, your cells immediately attacked the stain and eradicated it in mere seconds.

When comparing you to the average human or even mutants blood, you have a significant amount of neutrophils - a type of white blood cell - that fights of the infection. Typically that causes an average person to become sick, but your mutation produces it naturally to fight of any infection.”

You nod again. You don’t know much of biology but Jean at least explain it in laments terms so you can understand.

“As for your healing ability, which I’m also assuming they tested, works basically a hundreds times faster then soemone without your mutation. The level of neutrophils lends a hand to this but you also have high levels of fibroblasts and macrophages - cells responsible for the beginning and end of the healing process.”

You’re in awe. Since you’ve discovered you were a mutant, you always wanted to learn how. How anything you do is possible. That’s why you would always bug James about his own as they were so similar. Now though, you’re finally learning all you can.

“You also have a large number of keratinocyes, which allow your nails to grow at the rate and length they do into claws. When it comes to your teeth, you have an increase in all the cells responsible for growing and protecting them. I believe that is why yours are able to sharpen at will and are as indestructible as you described.”

You smile at hearing that. While you always tended to slice someone's throat with your claws, your teeth were your best asset. You shared with Jean how easy it was for you to tear into someone’s throat with them - namely dick Vic as you’ve begun to call him in your head. You got a laugh form Jean at those stories.

“One thing I did find, however,” Jean pauses, frowning slightly as she looks at her device.

Your heart starts to hammer in your chest and you feel Ororo grab your hand. You have no idea what she’s going to say but know it’s going to be bad. Why else would she have paused.

“However what?” You quesiton, one of your legs starting to bounce up and down in anxiety.

“I think it’s best we discuss this privately.” Jean’s voice is suddenly in your head.

You nod your consent, staring ahead and she informs Charles and Ororo that she wishes to speak about the last matter with you alone. Charles shoots you a look you see out of the corner of your eye before leaving.

Ororo gives your hand one last squeeze before rising from her seat and following Charles out. Suddenly it’s just you and Jean and you suddenly get nervous when she takes a seat next to you.

“You informed me during our exam that you have not gotten your period since your mutation revealed itself, correct?”

You don’t like where this is going. You nod.

Jean continues. “With some of the tests I did, as well as the gyno exam, you’re in perfect, healthy condition for soemone who is also your age. Ignoring the mutation.”

“But?” You question, searching Jeans eyes for what’s she’s going to say next.

“But, on average people who are your age have about 80,000 eggs available for fertilization. You have half that.” Jean reveals.

“Are you saying I can’t have kids?” You stand, running a hand through your hair. “I mean I never imagined having kids.” You start to rant, beginning to pace the small room. “But I mean, I did think of it once with one guy but that was almost a life time ago. I mean I-“

“Y/N” Jean starts, stopping your rambling. She’s now stood up and is facing you, hands on either shoulder. “I’m not saying you cannot have kids.”

You let out a breath. You didn’t expect that possibility to rattle you but it did. Maybe, somewhere deep down, you’re still holding on for Logan to turn up. For you to return to your cabin in the Canadian Rockies and actually have little runts of your own.

“Then what are you saying?” You ask weakly, having never felt this nervous before.

“You told me you remebred waking up once, when you were first at the facility, correct?”

You nod.

“And that there was a doctor, or someone, between your legs, and they made a comment about how they were surprised you weren’t with child?”

You nod again.

Jean sighs, leading you back to your chair. She sits down and grabs your hands in hers. You’ve only known her a week but have never seen her this worried, this emphatic. She’s usually all business, all serious.

“I believe that, based on my findings, during your month at the facility, they were extracting your eggs from your oaveries.”

You feel your entire body freeze. Extracting your eggs. Extracting your eggs. Taking something you have that can create life, from you.

“But only men can pass down the mutation gene.” You state, confused.

Jean nods sympathetically. “Correct but, you are a rare mutant. Not many posses an animal like mutation, specially one as feral as yours. I think -“ Jean cuts her self off.

“You think what?” You question harshly.

Jean sighs. “I believe they may have taken your eggs, which are from a strong, rare female mutant, and planned to see if they could find traces of the X-gene. And if that failed..”

Jean trails off but you’re able to figure it out. If they were unsuccedul with that, they still had eggs with your genetics. Eggs that can be mixed with a male mutants sperm and injected into some poor girls uterus. Thus engineering a mutant child they would have complete controls over.

“I - I need some time alone to process this.” You say, rising from your feet and quickly leaving the room, ignoring as Jean calls out after you.

You quickly move throughout the mansion, your room your destination in mind. You push past Scott who tries to stop you; an Ororo that looked concerned, and many teenage mutants who simply looked confused.

You finally resached your room and slammed your door shut, locking it. You rested your forehead against it, body rising and fall as your breath increased. Your mind whirling at all the possibilities of what they could have done or still be doing to your eggs filling it.

You let out a frustrated scream, right arm reaching and sending all the objects on your desk flying. Not quit satisfied at the damage, you made quick work of the small bookshelf in the corner, knocking it over with a growl.

At this point, your mutation is on full display, teeth grown and claws long. You let out another rgrowl and make a fist, sending it flying through the wall that is shared with your bathroom, your hand going through it.

Suddenly, a bang is heard and you look up to see Scott and Ororo standing there, the man having kicked it in. You turn your body towards them, growling lowly and ready for a fight.

Scott takes a step toward you, and you mimic him, ready to take him out of you need to. You watch as Ororo places her hand on his shoulder to stop him. She says something to him but your mind is still whirling you cannot comprehend what.

Your mind is solely relying on all your instincts. The human part of you is not able to cope with this discovery and has backed itself into a hole in your mind, allowing your animal side to deal with it.

And it’s dealing with it aggressively.

You watch as he sighs and nods before exiting; leaving you with the other women.

“Y/N.” She says, voice calm and low, as if talking to a scared animal.

You guess that’s what you are right now. Your instincts have taken full control of your body and kill and maim is the only action that seems to be what it wants. You want to make those suffer who hurt you. You want to slowly run your claws along every one of their arteries, watching them bleed. Then, you’d bite into their throat and take out a chunk.

“Y/N!” Ororo says, this time more stern.

It seems to gather your attention a little more, gaze shooting up to meet here eyes. They only show concern, soemthing you’ve only ever seen from one other person. Seeing them from her, it does soemthing inside of you and you break.

Your animal side seems to notice it too as soon your claws are gone and teeth back to normal. Tears immediately begin to leave your eyes and the women crosses the room to enlope you into her arms, pulling you into a hug. Your body immediately relaxes as you let out a sob.

You finally found out what happened to you but now you have to cope with it.

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Tag List: @randomblogzsblog, @sebastianstanblog, @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @somiaw @sseleniaa @whyamistillontumbler

A/N: I said lots of angst… now we know what happened during readers time being held captive. Sorry about no Wolvy- next chapter I promise!!

i-wanna-write

If One’s Different, One’s Bound to be Lonely - Wolverine Fanfic

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Chapter Warnings: Violence, cutting, mentions of sex but no smut, ANGST, brief mention of rape but no details/descriptions

Word Count: 3.5k+

A/N: We’ve finally reached a movie!!!! This chapter doesn’t have much dialogue but moves the plot along!

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It’s been years since your intimate night with James. You recall it having been 1965 or ‘66 when you two finally gave into your instincts, sharing that night together.

He left a few days later, leaving to join the Vietnam war with Victor. It made you feel weird. You felt different knowing you wouldn’t run in to him. That you wouldn’t move and see him randomly in the woods, or at a gas station, or a bar.

Rather than dwelling on that thought for long, you fell back into a your old routine. Moving every 3 months, hunting for food, and reading. Only this time, you had soemthing to look forward to - the end of the war.

And It finally did end - in 1975. So your focus shifted to waiting for James to return. To looking forward to where your life would take you next, maybe James by your side.

Months though turned into years, and years turned into five. Now it’s 1980 and you haven’t seen James. It’s been about fifteen years and at this point, your night with James and all past run ins seem like a dream.

A year or two ago you found a cabin in Canada, secluded just how you like it. You were in town to stock up on food when you visited the library with the intent to steal some books. However, you somehow ended up with a job there.

The job allows you to be around the thing you love, and not interact with most people. You simply organize the books and put them away once they’ve been returned. You may have to answer the occasional question, but for the most part, you’re alone.

Just how you like it.

The library is quiet so you have no overwhelming sound. Not many people visit so you don’t have to fight your instincts. You can just be around what you love in silence.

Your days consist of work, reading, and watching the moon at night. Your cabin is secluded enough you are able to enjoy the silence of nature, no sounds of the city to bother you.

All that led you to now, partaking in your usual nightly routine. You’re currently sitting on the porch, whiskey in hand as you watch the moon rise into the sky. If you had to guess, it’s almost a full moon and you like thinking the animals will soon be noisier.

You take a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. With your mutation you’ve come to understand through the years that another reason you love solitude is the smell. Being in cities and around others was never a pleasant aroma.

You take another breath when you catch a familiar scent. You immediately tense, feeling your heartrate begin to increase. Your mind has to be playing tricks on you.

It can’t be.

You haven’t smelt the familiar whiskey and cigar in so many years.

Your gaze moves from the moon to the tree line to the first floor when you see a familiar build. There standing, flannel donned with a bag slung over his shoulder, is James.

You rise, forgetting your whiskey and immediately running off the steps and towards him. He seemed to have the same thought as you meet in the middle. His bag dropping as you jump into his arms, legs hugging around his waist.

Your own arms are around his neck while his own hold you up by your ass. Your lips immediately find his and you moan on the contact.

They’re soft, tasting of tobacco and solely James. Your mouths move hastily against each other, neither of you able to get enough of the other. He presses his tongue into your mouth and you let him take over the kiss, content to just be in his presence.

The kiss ends all too soon but James doesn’t let you go. He allows your legs to drop form his waist but keeps his hands on your ass, keeping you close. Your head is tucked into his chest, his own resting on your head.

You’re both silent a moment, just relishing in being together again. His heart pounds strongly beneath your ear and you have to stop tears from falling. He’s finally here.

“Fuck I missed you sweetheart.” He whispers against you before placing a kiss on your head.

“Fifteen years James.” You mumble against his chest.

“I go by Logan now.” You pull away at that, looking into his brown eyes, eyes you missed so much l, as you arch an eyebrow.

You’re able to take him in. Though fifteen years has passed he still looks the same. His hairs is longer than before, tufts still on either side but more prominent. He has a few wrinkles and there seems to be bags under his eyes.

You frown at that, not knowing what he’s been through. You lower your hands from his neck, grabbing his to take them off you. You grab his right hand in your left.

“Come, I’ll make dinner and you can tell me anything you want.”

…

That night, after dinner and many moments together to try to make up for the past years, the two of you lay in bed, sweaty and naked. He shared with you how Victor and he fought in the war for a few years before Victor fucked it up.

Ever the narcisstic masgonist he is, he attempted to rape a vietnamese woman and killed a Senior officer who tried to stop him. This led to himself and Jam- Logan, being brought in front of a firing squad.

He shared how he and Victor were than imprisoned because the bullets obviously didn’t work. How they were approached by a man named William Stryker to join a team of mutants.

They took him up on the offer.

James decided to go by his biological father’s surname - Logan. You finally learned how Victor and James were half brothers - that they shared the same father. It was only revealed when Logan went through puberty, as his mutation showed itself and Victor, being older, already had the mutation.

He shared how, throughout his time with weapon X - the mutants team - it turned into something he didn’twant to be a part of. The other mutants on the team and Stryker himself were brutal. Viscous. They couldn’t control themselves and had no empathy for those they were after or can across. All this was what James was against.

So he left.

He finally left Victor.

In turn, you shared with him your time apart. Your job at the library and how you’ve lived in this cabin awhile now. You live a quiet life, not worrying about being found out or running to the next cabin.

You were almost happy there.

He of course teased you about ‘becoming domesticated’. How he was off using his instincts while you were the one who ignored them. How the two of you seemed to have switched.

But you tell Logan how he was always the piece missing. How you missed not hiding your true self and instincts like you did with him. How being with him, you didn’t feel different. Didn’t feel lonely.

So Logan settled in with you, getting a job as a local lumberjack, putting his flannels to use. You lived a quiet life together for six years. You both left each morning to go to work, returning for a quiet night of dinner, whiskey, and sex.

Until everything changed again.

…

Tonight you and Logan lay in bed naked, tangled in your sheets and drenched in sweat. You’re laying with your head on his chest, right arm playing with his chest ahir. One of his arms is around your waist, the other smoothing your hair back and forth, a cigar hanging from his lips.

You tried to stop him from smoking in bed but it was a losing battle. Besides, the scent of them became soothing to you and now helps you fall asleep everynight. That, and just knowing he’s here, safe and with you.

The only lights in the room are his cigar and the moon. The embers alight Logan’s face, showing his stubble that lines his jaw and his deep brown eyes. To you, he looks the most peaceful in moments like this.

Like he hasn’t fought in numerous wars, seen terrible things, done terrible things. It’s moments like this you cherish the most. You can both be yourself and not care about all the factors of the outside world.

Logan catches your eyes and gives you a quizzical look. “What?” He asks, cigar between his teeth.

“Nothing.” You say to him, continuing to just stare.

“I can feel your eyes on me.”

“Just admiring your beauty.” You say, smiling brightly.

Logan chickles. “Smartass.” He says before taking the cigar from his mouth to place a kiss on your forehead.

You smile at the feeling, always feeling safe with him.

“Want to hear a story I read today.” You ask him.

He places the cigar back in his mouth, taking another drag. You watch as the smoke leaves his mouth, always amazed at how cool he makes it look. It’s funny that nothing can really kill him. So he may as well relish in the things the average human cannot do so often without the risk of cancer.

“What’d you read about today, sweetheat?” He places his hand back onto your hip, pulling you closer if possible.

“It’s about why the moon is so lonely.” You start, your voice soft. “It used to have a lover named Kuekuastheu and they walked the skies together. Everyone was jealous of the relationship but a spirit, Trickster was the most envious and planned to break the relationship.

He told Kuekuastheu that the moon wanted some wild roses from the normal world. So he went to get them, not knowing that once you leave the spirit world, you can never come back.

When Kuekuastheu returned he found out he couldnt re-enter. The moon was so sad so she got help from the sun to give her light power to her love. Keukuastheu asked the Master to turn into a wolf because when he went into the forest, he saw how harsh men were.

He saw how they cut a wolf to get its fur and eat it, so he chose a wolf to help them. He made people fear them and good came out of it, for whenever a wolf barred its teeth, it was a better option to run rather then hit or kill it.

But Keukuastheus still loves the moon so much that at night he goes to the cliff top and howls her name. For she can never be with him again.” You finish, a tear leaving your eye as you can’t imagine that kind of loss.

“You know what Keukuastheus means in the Native American language?” Logan whispers, looking you in your eye.

You shake your head. The sad fable did not reveal that.

“Wolverine.” Logan says.

You frown at that, suddenly not liking the symbolism. You don’t want to be his moon. He your Keukuastheus.

“Well, now it’s creepy and sad rather then romantic and sad.” You point out, a pout forming on your lips.

Logan snorts, shaking his head. He discards his cigar with his hand on your waist, stuffing it into the ashtray on his night stand. He then re-grabs your hip, pulling you half on top of him before lowering his head into your hair, giving your head one more kiss.

“It’s just a fable sweetheart, go to sleep.”

You close your eyes, feeling safe, happy, and not alone.

…

You're standing in your kitchen, making dinner for you and Logan. Another bright side of settling down near a town is frequent grocery shopping. You’d be lying if you said you missed hunting rabbit and deer as your source of daily protein.

You’re in the middle of seasoning some steaks, prepared to peal potatoes when the front door opens. A smile graces your face, surprised but happy Logan is home early.

“You’re home early.” You say, turning to face him.

Only it’s not Logan. Instead, it’s someone you havent seen in twenty years.

Victor.

“Sorry frail, figured you and I have some catchin’ up to do.” He says, walking closer to you.

You take in the man you loathed from the moment you met him. He still looks the same. Short hair on the top of his head with stubble lining his jaw. His canines are on full display, his claws grown on his hands which are at his side.

“Wasn’t expecting company.” You say, watching his every move, ready to fight if needed.

He continues to walk closer to you, looking around the place you’ve grown to call home. He slides his nails over the top of the couch, ripping it and you watch as the stuffing falls out. He moves closer to you and you take a step from the counter, knowing not to get yourself backed into a corner.

You watch as Victor leans his head up, nose flaring as he takes in the scent around him. He flashes you a smile. “Seems you and the runt might end up with some runts of your own based on the smell of this place.”

“What do you want Victor.” You say, arms crossed over your chest.

You know he’s not here for chit-chat. But you’ve ripped his throat out twice and you wont hesitate to do it a third.

Victor shrugs. “I mean, we’re practically family. Just wanna see how my little bro is treating his misses.”

“Cut the shit.” You snap, anger rising and teeth threatening to elongate. “I know what you’ve done the past years and I know sure as shit you’re not here to ‘catch up’.”

Victor smiles again, shaking his head. “Knew he didn’t like you just for your looks.” He crosses his own arms across his chest, mirroring you. “My… Colleague, has an interest in you. He wants a little meeting.”

You let out a laugh. “Not a chance in hell. And i suggest you fuck off before I make you.”

“I’m not sure, domestication seems to have made you soft.”

You growl at that, teeth elongated and claws growing. You know he’s bating you into a fight. You know he is. But your instincts are telling you to attack. To go for the throat. To finally make his heart stop beating.

Your instincts win out.

With a growl, you go to attack. Victor is just as ready. The two of you meet in the middle, his claws slicing into your shoulders while your own enter his stomach.

You grunt, pulling away and turning back to look at the man. He moves to attack again and you take the defensive, blocking the hit. You quickly turn, claws out and manage to slice his arm. He looks down at it, rage in his eyes before coming at you again, teeth bared.

He goes for your throat but you manage to get your own hand up, him taking a chunk out of your arm. You groan at the pain and grab the nearest thing, your potatoes peeler, and shred it down his face so he lets go.

You go to attack again as he’s momentarily distracted, swiping at his throat and managing to scratch him but not missing the jugular. Blood sprays your kitchen and you grab a chair, aiming to hit him. He quickly rips it out of your hands and growls.

He lands a punch to your face, your head going to the side and body flying back as you land on your on your ass and elbows. He rushes over to you but you move your legs, swiping his out from under him. This time he’s the one to land on his back and you quickly straddle him.

“Want to be with a real man?” He grunts to you, bucking up his hips.

You grimace in disgust and lean down, teeth aiming for his neck. They never get to make contact as he bucks again, this time with his hands on your hips and flip your position. His hands immediately find your neck and they enclose around them.

You feel your breathing cease and throat start to crush. You try to move you head up towards him, teeth bared to snap at his arms. Your hands are on his face, scratch any surface you can get but to no avail. He’s older, stronger, quicker, and more feral.

“Thanks for the rematch frail.” Victor says before you feel a pinch in your neck and everything goes dark.

…

“It’s amazing she isn’t already with child.” A voice calls you out of your unconsciousness.

You slowly open your eyes, the vision blurry before coming into view. You’re met with a room that looks like a hospital operation room, the scent of saline and disinfectant meeting your nose.

You look down to see you're in only a hospital gown. Your legs are spread open, knees and ankles strapped down. You let out a low growl, teeth and claws growing as you try to free your hands.

You hear a loud, fast beeping and hear someone speak. “She’s awake, sir.”

You try to look around for the noise but cannot see who spoke it.

“Fuckign Mutants, can’t do anything right. Give her another dose, I’m not done extracting yet.”

You have no idea what that means but know it’s not good. You immediately start to pull on the restraints, trying to free yourself. Soon though, you feel another prick in your neck and the world turns dark again.

…

The next time you awake the smell is the exact opposite of the first time. It's the stench of body odor, feces, and blood. You slowly open your eyes to see you’re in a cell laying on a dirty cot.

You immediately rise to your feet only for them to collapse, not able to hold your weight. You slowly stand back up, moving to sit on the edge of the cot.

You look around to notice the room is dark, only one window outside of the cell and in the hall. The cell itself having no window of its own. It consists of only the cot and a bucket in the corner.

Next you move back to your sense of smell, already covering the stenches. You can make out two unfamiliar scents and nothing else. You allow your ears to strain, hearing two separate heartbeats and breaths.

“Hello?” You call out, noticing your voice is hoarse.

“New girl, that you?” A voice calls from your right.

“I guess.” You reply, hand reaching out to rub along your throat as if to soothe the hoarseness.

“They’ve had you sedated for a month. Never saw someone fight as hard.” The voice from your left calls.

Your mind swirls You have no idea where you are. You don’t remember anything that has been done to you. Moments like this you’re grateful but also upset that you have your regenerative ability. You have no idea what has been done to you.

That thought scares you.

“Where are we?” You question.

“A facility they experiment on mutants.” the voice says angrily.

Great. Of course fucking Victor would drop you off here. Your mind thinks to Logan, wondering where he is. If he’s looking for you. If he thinks you’re dead.

You know that when he returned home he saw a blood massacre in the cabin. He probably would have smelt Victor as well as yourself, knowing the two of you fought. The question is, what did Victor do to him once Logan found him?

You don’t have time to think more on that, as an alarm is sounded throughout the hall. You rise, your legs cooperating this time and watch as your cell opens. You rush out, seeing that the two on either side of you are just kids, no older then the age of fifteen.

“Damn!” the boy on your left shouts. “You look like shit.”

You glance down, noticing that you’re in a half ripped shirt and dirty sweatpants. You see that you cell neighbors, the other a girl, are dressed in clean white t-shirts and sweats. Looks like you didn’t get any special treatment.

You lift your head, listening for any sound or smell of someone else. You hear feet moving from outside your hall, following them and smelling they’re all the same as the children next to you. Mutants running towards freedom.

“Come on,” you tell them, turning to your right. “Outside is this way.”

“How do you know?” the girl questions, looking scared.

You tap your nose with your finger, then repeat it to one of you ears. “My mutation.”

You then start running towards the hallway exit, knowing they’ll follow you. You open the locked door easily with your strength, looking out to see more teenagers running in the direction you suspected.

You allow your neighbors to go first before following, running along with the kids. You look around and notice this hallway is just a stretch with doors on either side, you’re assuming housing cells like the one you were just in.

You continue to run, noticing how there are staff on the floor, dead. You hold no ill feelings towards that, happy to just be out of this hell hole where you don’t even remember what you went through.

Soon, sunlight reaches your eyes and you soon exit the facility, grass under your bearfeet. You watch as the children are guided on to a jet, a woman dressed in black ushering them in.

You want answers. You want to know where Logan is, what happened to him. Where Victor is. You wouldn’t mind tearing out his throat, for good this time.

Deciding to not follow the others, you turn to walk towards the tree line. You’ve survived in the woods numerous of times and you know you can do it again. Your plan of action is to find out where you are, get home, then find Logan if he’s not there.

A hand suddenly stops you, causing you to turn and ready to fight. Having grabbed you is a man also dressed in black, similar to that of the woman. He’s wearing sunglasses and is tall, probably six feet with broad shoulders.

“Where are you going, jet’s this way.” The man says, his hand now on your own.

You jerk your hand out of his grasp. “To get answers.” you say, not owing this man anything.

“Revenge wont get you anything.” The man says, trying to persuade you to come with him.

You shoot him a smile, all teeth elonged and claws grown.

“I’m the Jackal. I can get anything.”

You then turn your back to the man, continuing to walk to the treeline.

…

After escaping the facility, you found out you were still in Canada and only about two hundred miles from your home. You stayed moving in the woods for a week, hunting and gathering your strength.

Afterwards, you found a nearby cabin that was empty but lived in. You broke in, helped yourself to a shower and change of clothes before packing a bag of food and leaving. You trekked through the woods for another week, allowing your scent of smell to guide you back home.

Finally you reached it, noticing how it looked run down. You immediately ran in to see the aftermath of your fight with Victor from a month ago. Blood was all over the kitchen cabinets, piles on the floor. The couch was torn apart, the kitchen table broken.

You walked into your bedroom, seeing the room the same as when you were last there. You sat down on the bed, the scent of Logan lingering.

Tears suddenly gathered in your eyes and you let out a sob as they continued to fell. You were angry. So angry. How Victor could come in and take you. How you were able to let yourself be taken and experimented on.

You were frustrated. Confused. You had no idea what has happened to you the past month and frustrated you couldn’t remember. One of the kids said you were sedated for a month and you cannot imagine what happened during that time.

You were sad. Sad for all those kids that undergone something that you might’ve. That they were just different and that meant they could be taken and experimented on.

But most of all you were sad cause you lost Logan again. You had Logan for six years, you were finally normal, not different. But it all had to go and change. And you have no idea where he is or what happened to him.

It seemed you really were the moon, and Logan Kuekuastheu.

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Tag List: @randomblogzsblog, @sebastianstanblog, @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @somiaw @sseleniaa

A/N: I cannot find where I found a fuller version of the Moon and the Wolverine story. I hope I did it justice.

i-wanna-write

If One’s Different, One’s Bound to be Lonely - Wolverine Fic

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Chapter Warning: mentions of violence, cussing, dirty talk, SMUT! Minors DNI!

Word Count: 4k+

A/N: Excited to post this one!!!

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You think about your last run in with James often. It always leaves you blushing, thinking of his lips on your own. The feel of his chest underneath your fingers. You haven’t seen him in six months since he saved your life but you think about your kiss weekly. Specifically at night after a bottle of wine. Or in the shower when you’re feeling specifically stressed.

You fantasize about his lips leaving your own to find that spot on your neck. You think about them traveling down your neck, to each of your breasts. Down your stomach to where you want him most.

You fantasize about how he would feel above you, his larger body covering your own. What he would feel like when he was inside of you, your claws elongated and trailing down his back. You wonder what his face would look like when he cums, if his own claws elongated and shredded the nearest object.

A month ago you found a secluded cabin in North Dakota and moved in with your now small library. You have about twenty seven books and went to the nearest town to stock up on the necessities: eggs, bread, booze. You’re now prepared to hunker down and spend the winter alone and secluded, just how you liked it.

Only fate had other plans.

You are seated in front of the fire place, a fire cracking and alighting the living room. Your favorite book back in hand, nursing a whiskey as you continued to annotate it for the umpteeth time. You nursed a whiskey as you found more lines that you liked and spoke to you.

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley was a book you found yourself reading so many times. Its theme and message resonated with you as you felt like the main character Marx. Being a mutant, you were born for rejection and as your years on Earth increased, so did the hate your kind received. Yet you believed it was due to those who were simply conditioned to believe so.

You take another sip of your whiskey, allowing it to burn down your throat when you hear a thump from outside your front door. Your ears listened as the wind traveled through the air and took a breath in through your nose to determine if someone was near the cabin.

That's when you smelt blood.

You place your book on the coffee table and rise, quickly growing your claws. You tried to scent who or what it was but could only smell the blood. You quietly made your way to the front door before breathing again.

A familiar scent hit you.

You opened your door and it revealed James, body slumped on the porch and unconscious. He was dressed in only jeans and a tank top as if he wasn’t expecting to venture into the snow. His shirt was torn, holes littering it and dried blood showing. Your eyes trailed his handsome face and noted dried blood there as well. His usually kept hair was wild and out of place, also full of blood.

What you didn’t expect to see though, was his claws. Or rather what was left of them. They were somehow still sheathed, but instead of standing at their usually long 12 inches, they appeared to be cut down - only about 5 inches remaining.

A gasp left you and you immediately knelt down, feeling for his pulse. It was steady and strong beneath your fingers, a gracious sign that despite this horrific injury, it wouldn’t kill him

Not knowing how he got here or where he came from, you reached down and lifted him up, your enhanced strength easily allowing you to do so. You closed the door with your foot behind you and brought him to your couch, laying him down.

The man still did not stir with being moved so you sighed, assuming he’d heal and wake up eventually. So you grabbed your discarded book and drink, curling up in your usually vacant chair and resumed your annotation.

Five minutes later a popping sound is heard and you look up to see bullets spilling out of James chest. A total of seven pop out and fall to the ground with a crash. You watch amazed, having never seen another heal the exact same way as you.

Despite the bullets leaving, his healing seeming to kick in, his claws continue to remain the same as does James - unawake. You stare for a moment before turning back to your book, reading your favorite part.

You continue for another five minutes or so before a gasp brings you out of it. You lower your book to see James shoot up from his lying position on the couch. His breathing is heavy and his chest seems to move with each breath. You immediately discard the book and go to him, kneeling down and carefully placing a hand on his shoulder.

“James?” You say quietly. “It’s Y/N. I found you passed out on the porch so I brought you inside.”

The man immediately looks up, his brown eyes meeting your E/C. Recognition slowly seemed to make its way into them before he looked away, eyes catching his broken claws which now appeared to be about 8 inches long.

“Fuck.” He growls out, clenching and unclenching his fists as he examines them.

“Yeah… you looked like absolute shit when I opened the door and I noticed that your claws were - well that. What the fuck happened?” You question, arm not leaving his shoulder.

“Another mutant. Some guy the size of a train. Got into a scuffle and well, it seems he took a piece of me with him.” James explained, not adding any details.

“Where’s Victor?” You question, eyebrows furrowed at his brother not being here.

“He’s been hunting’ some other mutant for a fight he lost. Wants revenge.” James scoffs, showing his displeasure with the action.

“Okay…” You drift off, rising from your position to think of what to do.

With the snow storm starting to brew outside, you knew that it was more than likely James would be stuck here for a day or two - not that you were complaining.

“While that doesn’t explain how the fuck you ended up on my front porch, I have to ask - do they grow back? Cause I swore they were shorter when I brought you in.” You were dying to know, eyes locked on his claws.

Though you’ve now run into more mutants since those years ago when you met the brothers, you still know very little about their mutations. You were dying to know more. Perhaps if his claws grow back, your own would if, God forbid, they were cut off too.

James raised them into the front of his face, once again clenching and unclenching as he too examined them.

“Huh.” He started. “Guess so Sweetheart. Never had ‘em broken before.” With that, the claws sink back into his knuckles and the wounds heal over as if they were never there.

You nod, seeing the reason but a little upset more information wasn’t given to you. If his mutation was just like yours, which you understood it was, his body heels and regenerates faster than an average person. So why couldn’t his claws do the same.

“Well, since you're here, want dinner?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

James nodded.

…

After dinner you told him about the storm and how he probably shouldn’t leave until it died down. You both knew the snow and cold wouldn’t bother him - that he could’ve left as soon as he awoke, neither one of you acknowledged that.

Instead, you ate on the couch next to each other, recalling the past few months since you’ve seen each other. You were glad to just spend time with him, for once not having to deal with a mutant, Victor, or some other issue that seems to get in the way.

Once you were both finished, you washed the dishes before pouring yourself and him a glass of whisky, bringing the bottle with you as you resumed your seat next to him. He thanked you with a nod - not a man of many words.

You sat in silence, his arm occasionally brushing against yours as he raised it to sip his drink. If he noticed the goosebumps appear on your arm every time he did so, he didn’t say anything.

Your thoughts ran wild since you brought him inside. The silence has you thinking. You came to a realization after he saved you from the Mutant.

You felt comfortable around him, natural.

You weren’t used to it. You weren’t used to being around someone else for so long. You could only last a few hours. You could bear having a drink in a bar but that was it. You loved being alone. You hated being around people, mutants or not. You were a solitary creature and preferred it that way.

But with James, it felt different - it felt natural that the two of you could sit in silence when you were with each other and didn’t need to fill it. You could just relax around the other and not worry about all the other people around.

This fact startles you.

You hated being around others.

“Are you reading Brave New World?” James' question cuts you out of your thoughts.

You see his gaze has traveled to your now abounded book on the chair. You nod, turning to him and realizing now just how close the two of you have gotten.

His right leg is pressed against your left, his head almost entering your personal bubble. Your eyes meet when you turn to look at him, the brown dark and the fire reflecting off of them.

“Yeah.” You answer. “It’s my favorite. I think it kind of relates to how we live now if you think about it. Without a mutation, people have the same thought, but that thought was engraved into them and they never knew differently.” You state, trying your best to explain why you like it so much.

“If one’s different -“

“One’s bound to be lonely.” You finish the quote, surprised he knew it. “You’ve read it?”

James nods, his eyes quickly flashing to your lips before back to your eyes. You almost think you imagined it.

“I didn’t know you could read.” You tease, a smile pulling at your lips.

“Smartass.” James states, shaking his head and growing a smile of his own.

You smile back, just staring at him as his eyes are locked on your own, as if searching for something. You’re not sure who leaned in first, maybe you both did and met in the middle. But before you knew it, your lips were touching his.

You couldn’t explain. You’ve kissed others before. You’ve fucked others before. But it never felt the same when you kissed James. This was different, better. Natural.

His lips fit perfectly over your own, moving gently, almost hesitant at first this time, before throwing caution to the wind and adding more force. His lips were surprisingly soft as they formed against yours.

His tongue pried your lips apart easily and you almost fell apart. He tasted just as you remembered, like the whiskey he was drinking but also like tobacco from a cigar he probably smoked hours prior. It was a taste you couldn’t get enough of.

You moan as his stubble scratched against your cheeks as you moved, the dominance in both your mutations not wanting to give up easily. You placed your hands on his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt as they traveled up. They finally reached their destination: the little tufts on either side of his head.

This time you didn’t think about the fact that you were in a fight with another mutant. That your home was destroyed and you had to move again. This time you were truly able to take in the moment, focusing solely on his lips on yours.

You grabbed his hair tufts into your hands, pulling tightly which released a groan from his mouth. You pressed your thighs together, your core beginning to ache as you think of what other sounds you could get out of him.

James seemed to notice that you’re trying to lead things and he quickly sets you straight. His own hands travel down to your waist, gripping your hips before pulling you towards him.

Somehow he’s able to maneuver you without breaking the kiss so that you’re laying with your back on the couch. Your hands are still entangled in his hair but he’s on top, his hips pressing into your own and his cock saying hello.

This is way better than your fantasies.

You try to buck up - to get some type of friction where you desperately need it but he’s having none of that. As if he enjoys teasing you, he lifts his hips away from your exploration to deny you that friction.

Sooner than you’d have liked, you need air. So with great reluctance you pull away from your favorite kiss ever, mouth parting from his.

“Fuck.” James groans quietly, his breath fanning your lips. “Been wanting to do that since you pulled away last time.”

You laugh - you can’t help it. Because you felt the exact same way. You tell him that.

“Seeing you there - truly you with no Victor around, it was like seeing you for the first time.” You revealed to him, suddenly nervous at your admission.

But James doesn’t tease you or mock you. No. He smiles, showing all his teeth and appearing happy.

“I’m glad you saw me Sweetheart.” He says before leaning back down to capture your lips again.

This kiss is sloppy, tongues immediately meeting and teeth smashing against each other. You’re tongues battle for control over the kiss, neither relenting.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You rely solely on your instincts. On your mouth meeting his, tongue fighting his. His entire being consumes you. His large body is covering yours, his scent of tobacco, whiskey, and something entirely just James invading your sense of smell.

He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking and pulling another moan out of you. This time he’s the one that pulls away first, lips kissing along your jawline before reaching your pulse point.

You know it’s racing beneath his lips and you buck your hips as he begins to suck. The sensation shoots right down to your core and need some type of friction between your legs.

“Fuck.” You moan, the feeling unlike any other.

Thankfully he doesn’t pull away this time, grinding down into you so you can feel his hardened cock. You sigh at the feeling, finally having some relief. His hands travel from your waist to the bottom of your shirt, silently saying he wants it off. His mouth leaves your neck as you push him away, watching as he leans back so you can quickly discard your shirt. Already up, you make quick work of taking off your bra.

“Fuck.” James says lowly, his eyes darkening.

He licks his lips and goes to discard his own shirt in one go. You don’t get a chance to admire him like he did you as he immediately pushes you back down, lips now attacking your breasts.

His lips attack your right one, his hand going to your left. His mouth immediately finds your nipple, sucking and biting. You moan at the sensation, eyes closed and moving your hands to travel up and down his bare back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath.

Your claws elongate and they continue to trail up and down, creating scratches on James’ back that seem to heal the moment they appear. The action causes the man to groan, hips grinding harder down on you.

His lips leave your breast and you want to cry at the lost but they don’t leave your body, trailing down your stomach with open kisses. He reaches your waistline, and hear a schlit, opening your eyes to meet his brown ones.

You catch his gaze and see his right hand has elongated his claws- now fully healed. You realize he’s asking your permission to remove them. You nod, wanting nothing between him and your core. His claws quickly slice through your pants and underwear, James grabbing them and tossing them over the side of the couch.

His lips return to your body, your hands back in his hair. He places kisses on the inside of your right thigh, traveling up and over your mound before moving to the other. He finds one spot that elicits a moan from you and bites down, causing you to buck up into his face.

“Ugh fuck.” You moan breathlessly

One of his arms finds its way across your stomach to hold you down. He seems to be everywhere except the one place you want him to be.

“Been wanting to taste your juices sweetheart.” James says, his warm breath fanning your core and bringing goosebumps to your skin.

Finally, after what feels like forever, his lips find your clit and he places a kiss there before running his tongue along it.

You through your head back at the new sensation. “Fuck James.”

The man uses that as motivation, starting to suck and sometimes adding his teeth in the mix. You’re core is soaked at this point and jolt slightly as he travels down and licks along your slit.

“So sweet baby.” He groans against you.

His tongue prods in and out slowly as you try to buck up to get him to go deeper but his hand prevents you. His mouth travels back to suck your clit and he suddenly presses a finger into you, giving you no warning. You immediately tighten around him, trying to buck your hips again but to no avail.

“Ughh.” You moan, feeling as his finger slowly, torturously, moves in and out of you.

He soon adds another finger, setting a slow pace. “That’s it. Look at you squeezing around my fingers like a good girl.”

You nod, feeling yourself get more turned on at his words. His fingers move occasionally to curl up, hitting the spot you need most and your hand in his hair try to push his mouth further to your clit.

You start to feel the familiar feeling set in your stomach, pulling and gripping his hair tighter. The fire starts to spread in your stomach, reaching your throat like you can’t breath and pulsating at you’re core. He seems to get the hint, immediately stopping his motions and pulling back entirely.

Your eyes snap open, looking down to see James sitting back on his knees, just watching you. He chuckles lowly at the state you’re in and you know what he probably sees. Skin flushed, breathing heavy, hair mused. Face annoyed.

“You’re not cumin’ on my fingers sweetheart.” James says, before reaching down to remove his jeans, revealing to not be wearing underwear. “I want to feel you cum on my cock.”

You core tightens at his words, your gaze taking him in. His hair is all over the place from your gripping. His stubble is drenched in your juices, own skin flushed and chest heaving up and down.

You can’t help yourself as your gaze travels down to his cock. Your eyes almost pop out of your head. He’s large, there’s no denying that. Probably 8 inches, and his girth is the largest you’ve seen. His head is red and angry, precum leaking from his tip.

Next time you’re gonna have a taste.

But you don’t get to tonight as he moves back on you, returning to cover your body with his. His lips meet your own again and you moan as you can taste yourself.

You wrap your hands around his neck and move your legs wider apart, trying to make room for his legs between your own. He seems impossibly larger now and you relish in the feeling of his bare chest against yours.

You feel his hand slide down your body, gathering some of your juices. He grunts, seeming to be pumping himself before you feel his tip against your entrance.

He rubs it over your slit, continuing his teasing form earlier as he moves his hips forward, allowing just his head to enter you before pulling back. He pulls away from your mouth, breath on your face and eyes staring into yours.

You stare into the dark brown, seeing only lust and trust in his eyes. He looks almost vulnerable, if not for the fact that he’s a very large man, in every aspect.

Before you can kiss him again, his hips shoot forward and his cock is sheathed in you. You gasp at the intrusion, his fingers not at all preparing you for it.

“Fuck you’re so tight.” James mumbles before leaning forward to catch your lips again.

You’re tongues continue to lazily dance together. He sets a slow but brutal pace. His hips pull back slowly, agonizingly, before he slams them back into yours, filling you up.

You try to meet each thrust, bucking your hips every moment to drag him closer. Your claws continue to drag up and down his back, creating more bloody scratches that heal.

His own hands are gripping each of your hips now, their strength forming bruises that you know will heal once their pressure is gone. He pulls you into him everytime he enters, your eyes seeing stars everytime.

He pulls his mouth from yours, moving to your neck to kiss, suck, bite anywhere he can. At one point you’re sure he draws blood before he’s sucking it again as it heals.

You never imagined it would feel like this with him. His large body covering yours, sweat mixing with your own. You’re senses filled with nothing but him, his scent, his blood, his body, his cock.

It’s perfect.

“Fuck James, don’t stop,” you say, moving one hand from his back to rub your clit, feeling the pressure start to build.

One of his hands leaves your hip to grab your own, bringing it up to the right side of your face to pin it down.

“That’s my job sweetheart.” He grins wolfishly at you before letting your hand go to find your nub.

He immediately does and pinches it hard before rubbing in circles that somehow match each thrust.

“Fuck baby you feel so fucking good.” James praises into your ear. “You gonna cum on my cock? You been wanting this since you saw me, huh?”

“Mhm.” Is all you can ge tout, nodding along to the dirty words he’s spewing. “So bad James. Moment I saw you. Every instinct was to fuck you.” Your reveal the truth.

“That’s a good girl.” He grunts, his hips picking up place as his hand moves faster. “Want you to cum my cock. Wanna smell you for days.”

You moan at that, the words doing something deep in you. Your pressure continued to build and build and you’re almost at the edge.

“Fuck James I’m gonna-“

James cuts you off my moving faster then you think anyone can move. His fingers press harder into your clit and soon you’re seeing stars, entire body tensing and core squeezing him tight. Your claws dig deep into his shoulders, holding tightly.

“Ungh Fuck”

It’s enough to send James over the edge too, his own body tensing and breathing heavy. You hear a schlitt and then he’s groaning in your ear and you feel himself empty into you.

“Fuck sweetheart.” James breaths, slowing the movements of his hips.

You can’t say anything, mind completely blank. You never imagined it would be this good with James. You knew it would be good, but this was beyond any fantasy.

His body stills above you, hips still planted firmly against your own and cock still deep inside. His entire weight is pressed onto you and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You didn’t see him as the rough type, or dirty talker. But the words that came out of his mouth only made him hotter and more appealing to the animal inside of you.

You retract your claws and run one hand up and down his spine in a soothing manner as both of you try to gain control of your breathing. Your other hand scracthes his hair at the base of his neck, noticing that it’s surprisingly soft.

James carefully exits from you but doesn’t move his body beside that, content to just lay there. His face is pressed into the right side of your neck, occasionally kissing you. His right hand comes up and carresss the other side of your neck, moving up and down your pulse point.

You didn’t take him as a cuddler.

“Fuck James.” You whisper, eyes staring at the ceiling as you relish in what just happened.

You feel James body vibrate with a chuckle. “Feel the same sweeheart.”

He pulls away slightly from your neck and you turn to look at him, eyes meeting.

“Never had ‘em come out like that before.” He reveals, referring to his own claws.

You look down and see identical puncture marks on either side of you hips. This couch has definitely reached its finish line.

You shoot him a soft smile, liking this vulnerable side of him. “It’s never felt like that before.” You share with him.

Your eyes stare into his brown ones, neither of you relenting. His are back to trust but there's something else there this time. Something you’ve never seen in another's eyes before when looking at you.

“I leave for vietnam in a week.” James whispers to you.

You stare into his eyes, seeing something vulnerable at his admission to you. You’re not sure what to say. You guys aren’t together or anything. Just a few run-ins and this amazing night together. But you’d be lying if you didn’t think it would change something between the two of you.

Maybe more run-ins. Maybe more of tonight. Maybe moments together that are a week long rather than a day.

“Visit when you come back?” You whisper, hope in your voice.

James leans forward, capturing his lips with yours. “I plan on it.”

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