Glamdring

Idfk

[glamdringwlv]

Unchain my heart

Unchain my heart series.

Logan Howlett x oc!fmale

Summary: Mia Green has grown up in a lab, subjected to numerous experiments due to her status as a mutant. When she manages to escape, Charles Xavier takes her in at his mansion, giving her a new life and helping her regain her memories. However, the arrival of a new resident at the mansion threatens to destabilize everything she believed.

Prologue

Part 1. When the man comes around.

Part 2. So, you're a tough guy

Part 3. Heart of glass

Part 4. Hurt

Part 5. Lose control

Part 6. Thunderstruck.

Part 7. The Beast in me.

Part 8. Hit the road Jack

[tellingtell5]

okay so i just stumbled on your latest Clark + Edna Mode reader fic (adorable btw) and you said you’re open for requests and… what about Vigilante x Reader where she’s on the team against the butterflies and they absolutely cannot stand each other?? but then they get paired up for a mission and end up stuck together overnight on a stakeout, watching suspects. sooo much sniping at each other, awkward silences, maybe even some accidental teamwork?? i feel like you’d make it hilarious and tense at the same time 😭

You spin me round 《Vigilante (Adrian Chase), peacemaker x reader》

Vigilante (Adrian Chase), Peacemaker x femreader

A/N: YES, YES, YES. THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU because I had no idea what to write for him. Okay—deep breath—sorry. But seriously, thank you for your request, I actually felt something in my chest where my heart is supposed to be. I never get requests, so stumbling on yours was a full serotonin shot. Hope you like it. I also struggle to find fics for this character, so if you know any, please, I’m begging you, send them my way in any possible form. I’m so ready for season two to drop. As always—thank you for the support. Comments and likes mean the world. ❤️ Are requests open?? I suppose so

Nothing about this was remotely funny.

Getting the mud off your boots was going to take longer than you’d like—longer than it took to get blood stains out. Which, of course, made you think you really needed to buy that powder that nice old lady at the laundromat had recommended, back when you’d had to lie and say you were a veterinarian who got dirty a lot.

Maybe baking soda would get the brown stuff out. You also needed to grab one of those scraper brushes they kept advertising on TV. The ones that claimed to get into all the impossible little spots. Although maybe it was a waste of money—maybe you should just save it and blast them with the shower head. But then again, the hose had split along the side, so all the water pressure escaped through that stupid gap. What if you used the brush money to buy a new shower head? Yeah, that’d be better—one with a brand-new hose and—

“Why were you and Leota playing rock, paper, scissors before we left?”

You nearly forgot where you were, so far inside your own head you’d tuned out everything else. Vigilante had picked up his pace until he was walking right beside you. You caught, from the corner of your eye, the way his helmet bobbed with each forceful step.

Suddenly, you were hyperaware of him, of how loud his footsteps were in the forest, of the number of branches and leaves he stomped on, like he was actively trying to destroy every single one. If the butterflies hadn’t heard you yet, his walking style had practically shouted your location to every living thing in range.

“What?” You didn’t look at him, didn’t even slow down.

“I saw you and Adebayo playing rock, paper, scissors. You got really mad when she won.”

The words climbed up your throat, but you bit your lip, unsure what you were supposed to say. Tell the truth? You didn’t know how he’d take it—you barely knew him. All you knew was that he was some kind of psychopath who seemed to enjoy all of this. In the short time you’d interacted, you’d learned that reading people was not his strong suit. Would honesty hurt him? Would lying be worse?

“We were deciding who had to go with you.”

You said it fast, like minimizing the importance would make it sound less awful.

He went quiet, and from the corner of your eye you saw his attention drop to the ground, helmet visor pointing straight at his boots. Then he stopped walking entirely.

“Wait. You mean…”

“Yes. That’s it. Nobody wanted to.” You kept walking, trying to brush it off.

There was a pause. You could feel his gaze on your back.

“Wow. That’s… pretty mean.”

The indignation in his voice caught you off guard, you honestly didn’t think that was possible from him. That alone made you turn to look at him. He stood still, hands open at his sides like he was searching for words.

“Just me? It was Leota’s idea.”

“Yeah. For your information, I actually thought you were my friend. Well—not my best friend, because obviously that’s Peacemaker. But maybe… okay, after him it’d be Eagly. Then maybe after Eagly, Economos. But after all those people, it’d be you. Which makes you, like, fourth place—which is actually pretty good, considering—”

You stared at him, jaw slack, as he explained in the same tone a scolded child might use. You couldn’t begin to understand how he’d ever gotten the idea you were anything more than coworkers. God, you could’ve sworn he didn’t even like you. Which was exactly why you spoke bluntly:

“We’re not friends.”

You crossed your arms like that would make it official, cementing it into some kind of unbreakable truth.

“Yes, we are.”

You blinked, stunned, racking your brain for anything that could have given him that impression. You thought back on every interaction—he was careless about what he said and how he said it, threw out biting, misplaced comments. You always ended up bickering over stupid things. Like right now.

“No, we’re not.”

“Yes, we—”

“No, we’re not. Friends don’t feel obligated to spend time together. They hang out outside of work and actually like each other.”

An awkward silence. You couldn’t see his face through the mask, but you knew he was searching for the right words to argue back. Instead, he just shrugged.

“You’re being mean.”

“Do you even have feelings?” The question was genuine—you honestly hadn’t thought so. The way his head tilted reminded you of someone genuinely surprised. You couldn’t read his face, but Vigilante’s body language was… weirdly expressive.

“Remember that time you yanked the Glock out of my hands just because you wanted it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, a friend would’ve let me have it. Or at least asked before snatching it and then rattling off a list of every mistake you’d ever seen me make to justify why I shouldn’t carry it.”

“I thought I was helping. Friends tell each other the truth. You’re a really bad shot with that gun.”

You pressed your palm to your forehead, summoning all your self-control not to murder him right then and there.

“And what about the time you took the last ice cream out of the freezer at HQ?”

“It was my favorite flavor.”

“It’s mine too.”

“See? We have stuff in common.”

“It had my fucking name on it—in capital letters—right on top.”

“I thought you wouldn’t care because: friends share.”

Now you were both yelling, faces close before you’d even realized you’d closed the distance.

“WE. ARE. NOT. FRIENDS.”

Your breathing was uneven, arms flung wide. His visor was fogging slightly from his own sharp breaths. You hated that you didn’t even know what his stupid face looked like. You’d never heard his voice clearly either—it was always muffled by that damn mask. You clenched your fists to stop yourself from ripping it off right there.

You exhaled hard and turned away, resuming your pace. You always ended up like this—him incapable of grasping basic social dynamics, and you frustrated he wouldn’t even try. It also unsettled you not being able to see his face. You weren’t great at reading people without visual cues—raised eyebrows meant surprise, furrowed brows meant anger. That’s how you’d learned social codes. Every time you looked at Vigilante, you got nothing—just that blank mask.

You don’t say a word for the next couple hours. The two of you just make your way to the rendezvous, set up your rifles, and wait for orders. You stretch out flat on your stomach, cheek resting on your forearm, your rifle propped in front of you. He’s lying beside you, close enough that every so often you catch little waves of his body heat through the damp air.

You’re not big on physical contact, but his doesn’t bother you. Not exactly.

Your brain drifts to other things, because you’d rather think about anything else than your current company. You make a mental list of what you need to buy. Definitely not worth going to the store for just a couple items—you should wait until you need more. That candle you like to light when you read at night—it’s almost gone. Barely lights anymore. What scent was it? Caramel? No. Sweeter, richer. Toffee? Probably toffee. Which reminds you you’re almost out of syrup at home. Maybe just enough left for the last slice of apple pie in the fridge, but then you wouldn’t have enough for pancakes. Do you still have powdered oats?

“...So, we’re not friends?”

You drop your head forward, dragging your eyes off the rifle scope. You close them like maybe—just maybe—if you don’t look at him, he’ll vanish.

“You’re still on that?” you mutter, finally glancing his way. He’s flipped his visor up so he can aim properly, braced on his elbows, staring right at you.

You freeze for a heartbeat when your gaze meets his. Green eyes. Something in your memory stirs—slow and lazy, like it’s been hibernating. Before you can pin it down, he lifts a hand and snaps the visor back down.

“Of course I’m still on it,” he says, like you’re the unreasonable one. “I thought we were friends, and now you’re saying we’re not. I’m confused.”

You stare at him, your mouth falling open in disbelief. You’d assumed—hoped—he’d just take the jab and move on.

“Why exactly would you think we’re friends?”

He shrugs, not looking at you, helmet catching a faint slice of moonlight. “I dunno. We like the same stuff.”

That stops you cold. “What?”

A pause. A long one. You sift through your memories. You’ve never spoken outside of work. Not once. Every conversation has been mission-related. You don’t recall ever telling him “I like” anything. Closest thing was when he asked what weapon you preferred, and you shrugged and said, “Anything that’ll save my life.”

“We’ve never talked about anything except work. Or killing people. That’s it.”

You can almost feel him realizing the hole he’s dug for himself. His eyes lock back on his scope like if he pretends to be laser-focused, you’ll just let it go.

You don’t.

You scoot closer, elbows scraping through moss, until your shoulder brushes his. “Explain,” you hiss.

He doesn’t flinch.

“Explain how you know what I like.”

Another shrug. “I… might have read your file.”

Your jaw drops. “My confidential file?”

“I mean, yeah, but it’s not like it was locked up—”

“It’s classified.”

“Uh-huh,” he says.

Silence again. He’s looking through the rifle scope now. But something in the set of his shoulders tells you that’s not all.

You inch forward across the ground, reach out, and pinch him on the inside of the arm. He hisses, jerks his head to look at you.

“What else?”

“What?”

Another pinch.

“Ah—fuck, okay, stop pinching me. I’ve been… observing you.”

You stare. “Observing.”

“Yeah, like—casually. Not in a creepy way. Just… you know, picking up details. I wanted to know who I was working with. Cover my bases, in case you were a serial killer or whatever.”

Your brows shoot up. “Oh, I’m the serial killer in this scenario?”

He just shrugs again, skipping your question entirely.

“Vig, we’re assassins. Both of us. Literally.” You nod toward the rifle. He almost makes this tiny snort—like he’s just realized how dumb that sounded.

“Well, I wanted to make sure you weren’t one of the bad bad guys,” he says, whispering like it’s a secret.

“And?”

You realize your forearms are pressed together. You don’t actually mind the closeness—but your focus is pinned on this strange teammate who’s suddenly got your curiosity on a leash.

“What?” he says.

“What else have you noticed?”

Now it’s pure curiosity—you want to know what he’s been paying attention to so much that he thinks you “like the same things.”

He hesitates for half a breath, then dives in:

“You hum when you reload. Not loud—just a little under your breath, but only when you’re using the 9mm, not the rifle. You always adjust your gloves twice before you pull a trigger. You hate the coffee Murn keeps in the van, but you drink it anyway if you’re tired enough.”

“Wow. That’s… That’s really weird. Even I didn’t notice those things.”

“Well, that’s not all.”

Your brows lift, waiting.

“You like spending a lot of time alone. Like, a lot. Like what you do on Thursday nights… you… uh… you go to that burger place every Thursday night.”

Your brain catches on the last part like a hook. “How do you know that?”

“It’s not— I mean, I’ve just… seen you there.”

You turn toward him, pulse starting to quicken. “Seen me there?”

He shifts slightly, like the ground just got less comfortable. “Yeah. You order the same thing every time. Double cheeseburger, no pickles, curly fries, extra packet of mayo—”

It’s not the words. It’s the voice.

That faintly muffled but unmistakable cadence—the way he tilts certain syllables up like a question even when he’s stating a fact.

You’ve heard it before.

Not here. Not with a rifle in your hands. Under bright fluorescent lights, with the hum of a soda machine in the background.

Suddenly you’re not in the forest anymore—you’re at that grimy little counter on Jefferson Street, leaning over the register while the cashier in gloves rings up your order.

The tall, wiry guy who always watched you a second too long. Who spoke like he was trying on “normal” one word at a time. Who smiled like he’d learned it from a diagram. Who always slipped you more ketchup packets than you’d asked for.

Those green eyes.

You dig for the name.

Austin? No. Aaron? Jesus, no.

It started with an A, you’re sure. You know because—though you’d never admit it outright—you’d developed this strange attraction to that worker.

At first, he’d just been kind of cute. Nice. Then you couldn’t get him out of your head. You’d figured out he always worked Thursdays, and that tiny detail got so rooted in your mind you only ever went that night of the week. Sometimes to chat. Though you never had the guts to say much beyond that your favorite movie was Shrek 2. You almost smile remembering the argument about which Shrek was the best.

Adrian.

You suck in a sharp breath, the syllables slipping out before you can stop them.

“ADRIAN.”

His helmet whips toward you. “What?”

“It’s you.” Your voice is climbing without permission. “It’s you, you creepy son of a—”

Now it’s making sense why he thought you were friends. You went to see him every Thursday—even if he didn’t know that was the reason. He always took his break exactly ten minutes after you arrived. You’d even caught him arguing with another coworker about how late he always took it.

“No, it’s not—shut up—”

He lunges, trying to clap a hand over your mouth, but you twist, shoving him back.

“Oh my god, I knew. I recognized your voice!” You push against his chestplate, momentum carrying you half over him.

“You’re wrong, you’re completely wrong—stop trying to unmask me—”

“You’ve been watching me. You freak!”

“Not in a creepy way!”

You swing at him—not bone-breaking, but hard enough to make your point. He catches your wrist, and in the tangle you end up straddling him, knees planted in the moss on either side of his ribs. He’s half fending you off, half shielding his visor like you might rip it right off.

“SAY IT.” Your grip on his wrists is iron-tight.

“WHAT!?”

“‘Would you like medium or large fries for a dollar more?’” you say, perfectly imitating the monotone voice he used at work.

He freezes. “…Would you shut up—”

Murn’s voice explodes through the comm, sharp enough to make you both freeze mid-swing.

“What the hell is going on over there?”

You both go still, breathing hard. Your knee digs into his armor. His glove still has your wrist.

“Nothing,” you say at the exact same time Vigilante says, “She attacked me.”

“Knock it off,” Murn growls. “Now. You have a mission to complete and you’re yelling like it’s recess.”

You slowly climb off him, roll back into position. But your pulse is still buzzing. And now you can’t unhear it—Adrian—ringing in your head like a damn neon sign.

He’s still on his back, catching his breath. You settle into the scope again. All the months of absurd chatter and ridiculous fights start mixing in your mind with the cashier’s dry banter and lopsided smiles.

The two images merge, corrupting that harmless little crush you’d had on the weird guy with glasses who never charged you for the bigger drink.

You thump your fists into the ground like a frustrated kid.

“Are you —”

“Don’t you dare ask that crap, Adrian. Don’t think for a second you have the right to know how I’m feeling.”

Silence. Neither of you moves.

“I thought I was keeping you safe. Peacemaker doesn’t know either, and he’s my best friend.”

You glance over. His helmet is tilted toward you, full attention locked in your direction.

“Now I get why you thought we were friends. Jesus Christ.”

You close your eyes with resignation. When you open them, you reach a hand toward him—and he catches your wrist before you get to his mask. The grip isn’t forceful; it’s almost gentle, like he just wants to hold it.

“You’ve been a dick about this. You owe me.”

He lets go with a wounded little sigh.

You take the edge of the helmet and slide it off carefully. And there he is—Adrian. The smiley burger guy with the faint dimples. His hair is a mess. No glasses.

You tap the tip of his nose—not tender, exactly. More like a “bump.” He closes his eyes at the touch

“So, is the glasses thing, like, a Superman thing?”

His eyes pop open instantly. “Superman wears glasses?”

You shake your head quickly, realizing the mistake. “Forget it, I didn’t say anything.”

You keep staring at his face—his stupid, attractive face. Out of the mess of feelings crashing around in your chest, anger and frustration claw their way to the top. Suddenly, your touch on him is sharper, almost like you want to scratch him. You almost hear him hiss.

“So let me get this straight—you keep your identity secret so the bad guys can’t get to people you care about… but you’ve had full conversations with me while you were in your secret identity, and we literally do the same job.”

“It’s not the same,” he says immediately, with that tone like you just suggested the moon’s made of cheese. “I mean, sure, you take down bad guys too, but… I’m special.”

You almost choke on your own laugh. “Special?”

“Yeah, special. Like—I’m wanted for federal crimes. What if they tried to get to me through you?”

You blink a few times, trying to keep up with the chaotic pinball machine that is his brain. “Adrian—”

“I’m not—”

“Shut up. SHUT. UP.”

The sharp sound of your palm smacking his cheek echoes in the air—not hard enough to hurt him, more like… a claim. Louder than it was painful. When he makes a move to keep talking, you grab his cheeks and squish them until his mouth’s stuck at a weird angle. He looks like a fish.

“I work for Amanda Waller. Does that mean anything to you?”

He tries to mumble, but can’t.

“I don’t want you to answer, I’m just stating a fact so the cymbal-banging monkey that runs your brain starts clanging hard enough to reach a conclusion. Although I can see it’s probably not going to work. Adrian, I work for Waller because it reduces my sentence. Because if I don’t do this job, I go to prison for… what did you call it? Committing federal crimes.”

You slowly let go of his face, wary of whatever nonsense is about to come out next.

“I didn’t… I just… didn’t want you to get mixed up in my mess.”

You lean forward. “We work together. We’ve literally been shot at in the same room.”

Your voice comes out hot, sharp—like you can’t stand that he doesn’t get it.

“That’s different!” he protests.

“It’s not.”

“It is!”

And it spirals from there—pointless, circular, exhausting. Somewhere in the middle, the fight stops being about masks or flawed moral logic and starts being about something else. Something softer. Something you don’t want to name.

Another awkward silence settles between you. Of course, he’s the one to break it.

“So… we are friends?”

The frustration bubbles in you again—repetitive, exhausting, and impossible to scream out of your system. You want to slap him until your hands ache, but instead, you stop staring up at the black sky and look back into those green eyes that steal your breath every Thursday night.

Friends. Between the clash of your personalities, you realize maybe you are something close to that word. You think back to your quick conversations during his tiny breaks, before he’d go back to your dull work. Then other memories come, ones you’d brushed off.

Like the time you caught Vigilante cleaning your weapons when you’d been too lazy to do it yourself. “If you want them to be efficient, you have to take care of them.” At first, you’d taken it as a lecture, but… maybe it meant he cared about how your weapons performed. Or how he always took point when you entered dangerous spaces, only signaling you forward when it was clear. You’d chalked it up to pride, control issues, or just his murder-happy nature.

Maybe you were friends. A weird, dysfunctional kind of friends.

Then your chest does that weird flip when you realize… you don’t want to just be his friend. You’ve developed a strange pull toward him. Maybe you want to go to that burger place when he’s not working—something like a date, where you can listen to him list his favorite movie kill scenes without a timer ticking down your time together.

“I mean… maybe I don’t want to be your friend.”

“What?” You jerk your head up, sitting up straighter.

“I mean… maybe we should be something more.”

Wait...can he read your mind when he’s not wearing the helmet? That’s got to be his secret ability. You should ask Peacemaker for one of his just to block it. Maybe that’s why Chris wears that monstrosity—what other reason could there be?

“Are you reading my mind?” You clap your hands over your ears like that’ll somehow stop him.

He tilts his head, confused, and sits up too, facing you.  

“What? No, why would you say that? I don’t need mind reading to think that. I mean, you come in on the days I work and always pick my register. I saw you pretend to read the menu once just so my coworker wouldn’t take your order. Wait—why are you making that face? Did I read that wrong?”

The truth is—he didn’t read it wrong. Not even a little. Your face is twisted in absolute horror and infinite embarrassment. You wish the ground would swallow you whole.

“Oh. No. You’re just embarrassed ‘cause I caught you. Got it.”

For someone so bad at catching sarcasm, he’s suddenly very good at reading your every twitch. You bury your face in your hands, wishing you could disappear, but he grabs your wrists and pulls them down. He’s smiling.

“See? I was right. You’re a stalker and kinda weird. We’re basically the same.”

“Oh my god…”

“This is what I call compatibility.”

He’s leaned in close now, so close you can feel his breath, grin stretching way too wide for the meaning of his words. You lower your head to escape, but he follows.

“Will you two just kiss already and stop torturing the rest of us?”

Peacemaker’s voice cracks through the comms in both your ears, making you both jump apart.

“Wait—were you listening this whole time?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Leota says, sounding exhausted.

You bury your face between your knees, ready to die from the shame.

“No, no, no. My name’s NOT Adrian. I don’t know who that is!”

“Shut up, we all already knew,” Harcourt’s voice cuts in.

Adrian switches to a weird Kermit the Frog impression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t, buddy.”

[tellingtell5]

Three Little Birds part. 2《Nick Blaine, The handmaid's tell》

A short story about Nick Blaine.

Nick Blaine x oc!fmale

Hi: I love The Handmaid's Tale and the relationship between June and Nick, but I couldn't get this story out of my head. I’m always looking for stories about this character, but I never find exactly what I’m looking for, so I decided to write it myself. I hope it reaches someone. Thank you

I wrote this part with this song on repeat—I think it fits so well.

I had the strange certainty that Rita, the Waterfords' Martha, would strangle me with her bare hands if I let my guard down.

“How did you get this far?”

Anyone overhearing her choice of words might think she despised me, but instead of taking offense, I let out an involuntary snort of laughter. A fleeting smile softened her features before she shook her head and focused on fixing my mess.

“Nick must have the patience of a saint, no doubt about that.” Her expression twisted in distaste as she took a cautious sip from the spoon, grimacing at my creation. “And the stomach of steel.”

Good thing he's the one who does the cooking.

The realization hit me like a bucket of ice water. I had fallen into some kind of daze, a haze that dulled my senses, burying all the worry and unease I should have felt every single day. I bit down on my tongue, stopping myself just in time—one careless remark, one slip of the tongue, and both of us could end up hanging from the Wall.

The strange peace I had lived in for the past few months as Mrs. Blaine had blinded me completely. I had let myself see this woman as something she was not—one of my closest confidantes. Fear settled deep in my chest, its sharp claws scraping their way up my throat until a glassy sheen blurred my vision. I gripped the cold marble countertop as if it could anchor me, steady me—my knuckles turned white under the strain. Tilting my head back, I stared at the ceiling, willing the tears to retreat before they could spill over into something pathetic.

When had I started losing sight of my true purpose here?

I had a vague suspicion. No, I knew. My priorities had been buried beneath a thousand different emotions, tangled and confusing.

A slow, comforting warmth spread across my back in gentle circles. I blinked and looked up to find Rita watching me, her face creased with deep-set worry, the expression of a mother trying to soothe a child.

“Relax, dear. I was only teasing,” she murmured. “You’ll get the hang of it in time. Besides, I’m sure Nick will appreciate the effort. Getting your hands on that cheese wasn’t easy.”

She thought my distress came from failing to cook a decent meal for my poor husband.

In time.

That was exactly what I didn’t want to have here. Time.

I didn’t want to learn these skills—things I had never cared about until they became chains binding me to a life I never chose. I had always loved learning, but for myself. The moment it became an obligation, something done for the satisfaction of others, it turned bitter on my tongue.

Anxiety gripped me again, sharp and unrelenting, coiling like a vice around my lower back. Guilt slithered in alongside it, tightening around my throat. I had been asleep.

For weeks, I had carefully traded and bargained for supplies, gathering ingredients just to prepare something for Nick—to thank him for these past few months. A quiet voice in the back of my mind whispered that maybe, maybe my reasons ran deeper than just gratitude, but I crushed it before it could take shape.

Anger surged in my throat, burning like bile. A wave of nausea rolled over me, and I barely made it to the nearest bathroom before retching violently over the toilet.

As my body trembled with each heaving breath, a distant memory surfaced—an image of myself setting a plate in front of him, my voice cold and detached: "Thank you for not taking advantage of your position and for being decent, Nick."

But maybe that wasn’t what had sent me running to the bathroom.

Maybe it was everything else—the emotions I had been choking down for months, the ones I had buried so deep they were now clawing their way out by force. I let a few stray tears escape, surrendering to them at last. I stayed there, slumped over the toilet, too drained to move, too exhausted to face the woman still trying to fix what I had done.

Nick had to go out that night to take the Commander to who knows where. His absence left me with an unease I couldn't quite justify. Despite having spent months living with this man, whom I now considered something close to a friend, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was an intruder in his space. The fact that I had no personal belongings to place in the room, aside from my clothes, only made things worse.

Everything was infused with remnants of Nick’s former life, and I liked to imagine what it had been like back then. Before he became "the enemy." A sharp pang ran through me at the thought of him in that way. He had never shown any sign of agreeing with what was happening around him, but the signs had made it clear that Nick was not just a simple driver. That only made my confusion more frustrating. An Eye sharing a roof with a Mayday terrorist. The irony of it all was overwhelming.

I sat at the kitchen table, smoking a cigarette from the pack my husband had "accidentally" left in plain sight, all because I had once mentioned in passing that anxiety sometimes made me return to such a harmful habit.

A strange sensation twisted my stomach at the realization that I was pleased by the small gesture. I had come to understand that this was his real language. When he came home from work, we would share bits of our lives under the cover of the night, whispering secrets of a past life that was all but forgotten. It was always me who ended up rambling on until sleep lulled me into silence. A few days later, I would find something I had casually mentioned, like the sudden appearance of lavender on the table. His presence was comforting, and little by little, I had started to miss him when he wasn’t there. I rubbed my chest when a warm feeling settled there upon hearing him climbing the stairs.

When he appeared in the doorway and saw me awake, he hesitated, halfway through pushing the door open. He always did that, as if he still wasn’t used to me being here. Without a word, he looked at me carefully, noticing that I had put on one of his old t-shirts. I had taken his word when, in one of our late-night talks, he had suggested I could take whatever I wanted from his closet if I despised the standard at-home attire as much as I had claimed.

I saw the way he held his breath, despite this not being the first time he had seen me like this. And I mirrored him. For a moment, my heart fluttered with unease, wondering if he would finally drop the facade of a considerate man and report me to some Gilead authority for my adulterous behavior. Or at least, that’s what I wanted to believe—because I refused to acknowledge that the tightness in my chest had been anticipation at the heat I had detected in his gaze.

He tore his eyes from me, staring at the floor as he finally pushed the door fully open. He moved his hand toward me and placed something wrapped in newspaper in front of my eyes.

"I was going to wait until morning, but since you're awake…"

I carefully put out the cigarette, trying to hide the sudden nervousness in my movements. Hesitantly, I took the package, and he sat at the other end of the table, trying not to look directly at me.

Forcing myself to ignore the trembling in my hands, I unwrapped it, and something inside me twisted violently. My breath left my lungs, and a mixture of emotion and fear flooded my senses. I was as confused as I was terrified. The clash of emotions was so intense that my first impulse was to hide the gift beneath the newspapers and frantically look around, as if someone could see through the walls. A cold sweat ran down my back, and only Nick’s warm hand pulled me from the storm of sensations. But it didn’t just stop my mind from spinning—it reassured me in a way I hadn’t expected.

"You mentioned it a couple of nights ago, and…"

"It's forbidden." I cut him off, afraid that if he said it out loud, someone might hear, even though that was impossible. His thumb brushed over my skin, trying to soothe the fear that must have been evident on my face.

A shadow of a smile appeared on his lips, and a new, unfamiliar sensation twisted in my stomach. I surprised myself by wanting to see that expression again.

"I’m not going to say anything. Are you?"

I shook my head several times and gave his hand a squeeze before pulling away and uncovering the precious, dangerous gift he had given me. That innocent-looking object could cost us both our lives, but that didn’t stop the smile stretching across my lips until it nearly reached my ears. "Emma." Seeing those words—the first I had read in almost two years—made tears well up in my eyes. I blinked rapidly and put some distance between myself and the book, afraid of damaging it with moisture. Muscle memory took over, and I lifted it to my nose, flipping through the pages quickly. I inhaled its scent and, for a moment, distanced myself from the horrors of my reality.

"How…?"

The new regime had not only banned certain books; they had burned them, destroyed them in every way possible. I could already guess what Nick was about to say, because I had long since figured out where he got certain forbidden items for the Waterfords—or for me.

"It was on the black market." He shrugged as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. "I remembered that you used to be a literature teacher and that one of your favorite authors was Jane Austen."

He spoke while looking at his hands, nervous. Suddenly, I had the sense that he was making some kind of declaration, but I couldn’t let myself believe it.

My heart pounded so fiercely I was afraid it might burst. I focused again on Nick’s gift, running my fingers over it as if it were something delicate, something that might crumble if I touched it too firmly. Why did it affect me so much? It wasn’t the first time someone had given me something, but this… this was different. It wasn’t an empty gesture, it wasn’t just an object. It was proof that, in this world of shadows and cruel rules, someone saw me. Not as property, not as a function to fulfill, but as a person.

And with that realization came another: something like this didn’t just "appear" in the black market. He had sought it out, maybe even requested it from someone he trusted—someone who wouldn’t turn him in for such an atrocious crime.

Before I even knew what I was doing, I found myself standing before Nick, who was still seated, looking up at me. With a trembling hand, I touched his cheek, and his eyelids fluttered shut. I traced the contours of his face, mapping them in my mind, wanting to etch them into memory. My fingers moved with the same certainty that had been drawing me toward him all along, like a branch swaying in the wind.

Until now, I had kept my distance, believing that what I felt for him was just a reaction to the circumstances—an attraction born from the need for shelter in a world that wanted to consume me. But in that moment, I saw him. Truly saw him.

Not as the Commander’s driver. Not as a potential Eye. Not as my husband of convenience.

I saw him as the man who "forgot" cigarettes so I could smoke in peace, despite it being forbidden for women. As the man who brought lavender to the table when I had once mentioned it was my favorite scent. As the man who had turned a blind eye so many times when I returned home with packages of questionable origin.

I moved closer, barely aware of my own movements. Nick didn’t pull away. I studied the contours of his face, the lines etched by exhaustion, and for the second time that night, my breath caught in my throat as he slowly opened his eyes.

Deliberately, I let my fingertips trace along his jaw, brushing against the rough texture of his barely-there stubble. My fingers continued their path, skimming over his cheek, tracing the arc of his cheekbone in an absentminded caress. A flood of memories crashed over me—memories I had buried deep, afraid of what would happen if they ever surfaced.

I remembered the brush of his hand against mine as he passed me a cup of tea in the quiet hours of the night. It wasn’t the touch itself, but what came after. He didn’t let go right away. Just a second, maybe two, but his thumb moved—slowly, deliberately—as if trying to memorize the texture of my skin before he finally pulled away. From that moment on, we had both found excuses, no matter how small or absurd, to seek out those fleeting touches. A silent confirmation that we were still here.

The memories urged me forward. I lowered my hand, tracing the corner of his lips with my fingertip. And when I felt the softness of his lips beneath my touch, I remembered the first time I had truly laughed since being trapped in that place. I couldn’t recall the joke or what had led to it—only the way my chest had shaken with forgotten joy. The pleasant ache in my cheeks from holding tension for too long, the sting in my eyes from unshed tears. But most of all, I remembered the way Nick had looked at me—intense, burning.

As his breath brushed against my fingers, I realized he was looking at me the same way now—waiting, patient. Watching for my next move. My fingertips drifted down to the curve of his neck, feeling the quickened pulse beneath his skin.

I remembered the tightness in his jaw when Commander Waterford had made a barely veiled suggestion—an alternative way for us to “fulfill our duty.” How my throat had closed up, unable to find the words to escape the conversation. But I hadn’t needed to. Because Nick had appeared from nowhere, resting a hand on my back and leaning in, brushing his nose against my temple before pressing the lightest of kisses there, sending a rush of heat to my cheeks. Then, with complete ease, he straightened and turned his gaze to the Commander without letting go of me. “We appreciate your concern, but that won’t be necessary,” he said with a quiet confidence that stole my breath.

He could have let me flounder. He could have let me speak, knowing how much it cost me to hold back, to hurt myself, to become the easiest solution to an inconvenient problem. After all, what was I to him? Just an obligation. A forced tie. Letting me go would have been easy.

But he chose to save me.

The memories, the emotions, the accumulation of small moments—once scattered crumbs, now a mountain—tightened in my chest. Because this wasn’t just kindness. It wasn’t just refuge or an escape from the prison I was trapped in.

And I saw, too, the truth I had been trying so hard to deny.

It was him.

It was the way he looked at me, the way he protected me without expecting anything in return. The way he always stood just a little closer than necessary, the patience with which he waited for me to take the next step, the certainty that if I chose to retreat, he would remain exactly where he was—just like now.

My fingers trembled as they brushed against his lips again, feeling the warmth of his breath on my skin. Nick didn’t move. He waited. He always waited.

And I didn’t want to run anymore.

"You know..." I leaned in, close enough to hear his breath hitch, turning shallow, unnatural. "In another life, I would have come to you."

I didn’t realize I was crying until he wiped my tears away, gentle and fleeting, as if afraid to overstep. His gaze, once fixed on my lips, now locked onto my eyes, searching for something even I didn’t know existed.

"Oh, yeah?" His voice carried a trace of curiosity. "Why?"

My heart pounded, but I didn’t hesitate.

"Because..." Our noses nearly brushed, and the weight of the moment shattered the last of my defenses. "I would have seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. I would have noticed how careful you are, how you give me space without being asked. I would have caught the way your brow furrows when something worries you, the way your voice softens when you speak to me. And I would have liked all of it. You would have captivated me."

Nick didn’t speak. He just looked at me, something shifting in his expression—something intense and resolute. The seconds stretched, an eternity suspended between us. For a moment, I thought I had made a terrible mistake, that I had misread his kindness for something it wasn’t.

But then, with agonizing slowness, his lips brushed against mine. Barely a kiss—more of a question than an answer. A moment frozen in time.

His lips moved against mine, slow, deliberate, disarming in their gentleness. This wasn’t a kiss born of desperation, of survival. It wasn’t the practiced touch of a husband fulfilling a duty. It was something deeper, something real. His hand found my waist, the pressure firm yet hesitant, as if he, too, was stepping over an invisible line. I sighed against his lips.

After everything I had endured, all the suffering I had swallowed without an outlet, I could let it go here, in the safety of his presence. Nick absorbed every ounce of pain I poured into him, and when his tongue brushed mine, he transformed it into something else. Something warm and sweet. A silent comfort that tried to soothe the fire raging inside me.

Heat. Longing.

I clung to his shirt, searching for something solid to anchor myself to as the kiss deepened, losing its initial hesitation. Nick took in my anguish without pulling away, without fleeing. And when his arms tightened around me, when his mouth demanded more, I understood—I wasn’t alone in this. He was drowning, too. And somehow, in the wreckage, we had found each other.

When we finally broke apart, the air between us was thick with something unbreakable. I pressed my forehead to his, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Nick’s breath was ragged, and when his fingers slipped into mine, I knew.

I knew what I hadn’t allowed myself to admit before.

This wasn’t just desire. It wasn’t just a survival strategy.

I was falling for Nick.

I had been falling for him from the beginning—in every silent conversation, in every fleeting touch, in every moment when his presence reminded me that I wasn’t entirely alone.

But what did love mean in a place like this? Was it real, or just a mirage in the desert? Could I trust my own feelings when everything in this world was designed to break us, to manipulate us, to make us dependent on the smallest scrap of humanity left within us?

My hands trembled as I gripped the sink. Water dripped against the porcelain, each drop a reminder of reality trying to cut through the chaos of my thoughts. I leaned down, letting the cold water run over my fingers, as if it could wash away the memory of that night.

Despite having found what felt like a lifeboat in the middle of a storm, the bitter taste of guilt wouldn’t leave my mouth.

I took a deep breath, running a hand over my face, forcing myself to regain control. I couldn’t afford to lose it. Not here. Not now.

I straightened and left the bathroom, my steps unsteady with the weight of it all. A question had begun to take root in my mind: Had this been my husband’s strategy all along? Had Nick deceived me, luring me into submission, turning me into an obedient wife without force?

I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the poisonous thought. Then I remembered the night before—how he had warned me to be more careful next time I helped a Martha escape, to make sure no one followed me.

My husband, likely an Eye, knew I was still involved in underground activities. And once again, he had covered for me. Not only that, but last night, he had held me in his arms as I trembled from fear.

When I stepped into the kitchen, Rita was there, her expression alight with something I didn’t understand. Before I could ask, she took my hands in hers with unexpected tenderness.

"Blessed be the fruit," she whispered, her voice unsteady.

The air thickened around me. Something ignited inside me—a fire I didn’t recognize at first, an ache I hadn’t realized was still lurking.

Affection.

That was Rita’s tone. The warmth with which my mother used to whisper comforting words when I was a child, the gentle way her hands would cradle mine.

My entire body tensed at once, not fully grasping what was happening. I stared at the woman before me, bewildered, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words. But Rita only looked at me, her eyes shining, her grip tightening around my hands with a warmth I hadn’t expected. And in that moment, with that simple touch, the truth crashed down on me like a collapsing wall.

Blessed be.

The pieces clicked into place all at once.

The morning nausea. The constant exhaustion. The way my body had felt different, foreign, over the past few days.

A shudder ran through me as Rita’s words echoed in my mind, over and over again.

No.

No, it couldn’t be.

But the world spun violently around me, and flashes of my nights with Nick surged behind my closed eyes like forbidden memories. The way he looked at me when he thought I wouldn’t notice. The heat of his body beside mine in the dark, the rhythm of his breathing syncing with my own. His mouth on my skin, his hands exploring me with restrained urgency. And the way that, when it was over, he never pulled away. Instead, he held me against his chest, as if making sure I was still there.

I remembered his lips murmuring my name, breathless. The way my own voice had broken in response. And the realization that, despite the horror surrounding us, despite the fear and the uncertainty, I had come to crave those moments. A wave of dizziness crashed over me, and I had to steady myself against the table. Rita’s grip tightened.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

No. No, I wasn’t.

Because if all of this was true, if what Rita believed was real—

Terror clawed at my chest.

The door opened, and I heard familiar footsteps. I would recognize them anywhere.

My body reacted before my mind, turning toward him instinctively. The movement was too sudden, and my knees buckled beneath me. The world tilted, darkness swallowing everything.

I braced for the impact—the hard floor that would finally wake me from this nightmare—but instead, strong arms caught me.

His worried face was the last thing I saw. The crease between his brows, the lines of tension carving his features. A hand brushed loose strands of hair from my face.

His mouth moved, but his voice sounded so distant, as if it were coming from another room. My mind slipped away to a fleeting memory—to the way those lips had traced my skin with a devotion that should have been impossible in Gilead. That was what had led to this disaster.

I tried to speak, but no voice came, only desperation. Nick’s attention shifted to Rita, and I thought I heard him ask something about me. And then, Rita spoke the words that made everything real.

"She’s pregnant."

And the world went black.

[tellingtell5]

Three Little Birds 《Nick Blaine, The handmaid's tell》

A short story about Nick Blaine.

Nick Blaine x oc!fmale

Hi: I love The Handmaid's Tale and the relationship between June and Nick, but I couldn't get this story out of my head. I’m always looking for stories about this character, but I never find exactly what I’m looking for, so I decided to write it myself. I hope it reaches someone. Thank you.

I wish there were a mirror where I could see my reflection. It’s a recurring thought, creeping in when I least expect it. "Vanity is a selfish sin, girl." Aunt Lise’s voice follows the thought, sharp and unyielding. But this isn't just about curiosity—about seeing how they’ve prepared me for what, according to the women around me, should be one of the happiest days of my life, second only to the birth of my future children, of course. It’s about something deeper. It’s been years since I last saw myself. Would I even recognize the person staring back at me? Or would it feel like looking at someone I once knew, someone familiar yet distant, their face blurred by time and memory?

The truth is, I am not happy. I’m not afraid either, nor anxious about the tragic fate that awaits me. I suspect one of the Marthas slipped a narcotic into the tea they served me a few minutes ago. It’s a common practice on occasions like this—just enough to dull the mind, to keep the girls calm, too weary and dazed to resist, but not so much that they’d faint and delay the ceremony. That would be a disaster.

I had always imagined this day differently. In a normal world, I would have chosen my own dress, picked the flowers, planned the menu for the family I would have invited—eager to share my happiness with them. And I would have known the man waiting for me at the end of the aisle. I would have loved him enough to want to marry him.

Instead, I am in an unfamiliar room, laced into a regal, antique dress that once belonged to another girl before me and will surely be worn by another after me. "Gilead is at war, girls. We cannot afford extravagance for each and every one of you, nor grand ceremonies." And yet, this event is laughably pompous. Today, I and dozens of other girls will be married off to men we have never even seen, in front of Gilead’s most distinguished Commanders, their Wives, the Marthas, and the Handmaids.

I wish I could say I cried, that I screamed, that I fought against being sold like cattle, my worth reduced to my biological function. But I didn’t. Not a single tear fell, despite the weight of my grief. Some might call it resignation, but deep down, I knew the right word was exhaustion. If I made a scene, one of the Aunts would come rushing in to remind me of my privilege. That the only alternative paths available to me were a lifetime of servitude as a Martha, stripped of identity, or as a Handmaid, forced to bear children for another family.

"You are fortunate, given your record," Aunt Lydia had told me when they agreed to arrange a respectable marriage for me as a favor to my father. His position as a trauma surgeon granted him certain influence, even in Gilead’s rigid hierarchy. Otherwise, given my so-called advanced age and my past associations, my fate would have been much worse. By Gilead’s laws, I was an adulteress—a term they used for women with rebellious spirits. Before the uprising solidified its grip, I had been among those raising their voices, protesting as we were stripped of our jobs and our education.

I remember the day they froze my bank account. From that moment on, my father controlled my finances, as the closest male relative. He urged me to come home, promising he would try to secure passports so we could flee the country. But we never even made it across the street. A black van, its side marked with the emblem of an Eye with silver wings, cut us off. Armed men stepped out, their rifles slung across their chests. They told my father his skills were essential to Gilead.

He managed to delay my fate, bargaining for time, negotiating my place in this new order. "We will find her a respectable husband," they told him, "someone who will look after her and secure her future." But because he was not a Commander, he was not allowed to choose the candidates himself, as was customary. All I knew was that my husband wouldn’t be someone from the highest ranks—girls like me, those not raised from childhood to be obedient, were seen as too unpredictable. Too dangerous.

And now, here I am, waiting for the life that has been chosen for me.

While I enjoyed my limited freedom within the ecclesiastical regime I now lived under, I had managed to infiltrate the underground network operating in and out of the country. My father was rarely home, which made it easier to hide people—Marthas, Handmaids—those preparing to flee. But now? Could I continue my illegal activities under the watchful eye of my new husband? I highly doubted it. Still, I had contacts. And I wouldn’t hesitate to use them when the time was right—when things had settled after the wedding.

“Girls, it’s time.”

A heavy sigh escaped my lips. I gripped the edge of the opaque veil they had placed over my head and pulled it down over my face. At least it would hide the hatred written all over my expression for the duration of the ceremony. Though I could still see everything through the fabric, it reminded me of the tinted windows in certain cars—allowing those inside to observe the world while dulling its brightness, stripping away its beauty. To those on the outside, however, it offered nothing but obscurity, concealing the person within. That, after all, was the purpose of this garment: to keep me hidden until it was too late.

Since my mother was no longer alive, she couldn’t walk me down the aisle. Instead, an Aunt whose name I didn’t even know took my arm, guiding me into position. Before and behind me stood other girls—too young for what awaited them. My teeth clenched in fury. As awful as this was, at least I was old enough to have left adolescence behind. The others couldn’t have been more than sixteen. A sharp tug pulled me from my thoughts, and I stumbled forward, falling into step with the rest of the procession.

We entered the stage of an auditorium, where a line of men stood waiting to receive us. A higher-ranking official was delivering a speech on the importance of fulfilling our assigned duties, on the sacred nature of marriage.

When we finally stopped moving, my muscles seemed to loosen, my body floating as if caught in a dream. Everything around me appeared slightly blurred, the colors a little too bright. A song played over and over in my head, like a silent plea for help. Singing don’t worry about a thing, ‘cause every little thing gonna be alright. Maybe the pill they had slipped into my drink was kicking in, because I still can’t say for sure whether what happened next was real or just a drug-induced haze.

I studied the man in front of me carefully. He was tense, his gaze averted, offering me only his profile. He looked young—perhaps a few years older than me—but there was discomfort in the way he fidgeted, rolling his ring from one finger to another absentmindedly. His thick eyebrows arched slightly, deepening the creases in his forehead. Was this difficult for him? Did he oppose this, too? My heart pounded wildly in my ears. Maybe, just maybe, I had a chance to escape all of this.

When he reached for my hand to place the ring on my finger, I almost pulled away. I even twitched—just slightly—but he noticed. For the first time, he looked at me. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out. I gave him another chance to stop this. His touch was barely there, light as air, as though he were trying to touch me as little as possible. I appreciated that. Gently, I took his hand in return. His palms were rough, calloused from work, but I slid the ring onto his finger anyway.

As he released my hand and reached for the edges of my veil, the urge to scream clawed at my throat. Instead, I swallowed a sob, squeezing my eyes shut as tightly as possible. This time, the tears finally fell, hot trails streaking my cheeks. The lump in my throat made it impossible to breathe, and I was forced to part my lips just to let in some air.

When the voice speaking above us finally ceased, I opened my eyes and saw him clearly for the first time—without the veil between us. He looked uneasy, even distressed, but there was something else there, too. A flicker of relief. Maybe because he realized I was a grown woman and not a child like the others.

Somewhere deep within my tormented soul, I felt a hint of relief, too. He wasn’t an old man. He wasn’t a boy raised in Gilead, one who would believe he had the right to control me.

The entire ride to his house, I didn’t speak a word. I just stared out the window. That’s how I learned his name—Nick. He worked as a driver for Commander Waterford. The esteemed couple sitting in the car with us couldn’t stop talking about how thrilled they were that their loyal servant had finally been rewarded.

I pressed my lips into a thin line. They were telling him—telling me—that I was his prize for good behavior.

My eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, where I caught a glimpse of my new husband. His hands gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Did it bother him, the way they spoke about me? I exhaled sharply.

I let my gaze linger, scrutinizing him without shame. If I had met him somewhere else—at a party, in another life, in a world far from here—would I have noticed him? Maybe. I might have even found him attractive. But none of that mattered.

I didn’t know him.

And now, I was his property. A servant. A means to an end—a child.

Our eyes met in the mirror. I held his gaze, daring him, warning him. This will not be easy for you. If he thought I would submit, he was mistaken. I would make his life hell.

He didn’t look away.

What was he trying to tell me? A threat? Don’t push too far, or you’ll regret it?

Regret what? Would they hang me on the Wall?

The thought startled me, but not for the reason it should have.

Because, for the first time, I realized— I didn’t care if they did.

When we arrived, I politely excused myself, saying that the emotions of the day had left me exhausted and that I needed to rest for a while. Nick led me to his home—a modest living space above the garage. I felt like an intruder. This was his place, and now a stranger was invading it.

He gave me a very brief tour before setting my suitcase down on the floor.

"Make yourself comfortable. This is your home now too."

He said it without looking at me, his eyes fixed on the ground, his voice tense. I thanked him, and he disappeared through the door—he still had duties to finish before the day was over.

I didn’t unpack. I just sat on the edge of the bed and cried, my whole body shaking with the force of it. I told myself I had to let it all out before he came back and tried to fulfill his “duty.” The only thing I pulled from my belongings was a set of sleepwear—much more modest than what I used to wear when I lived with my father.

Then, I sat on the bed again. Waiting.

Waiting for what?

A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of what was supposed to happen next.

What if I refused?

Maybe I could slit his throat in his sleep and then cut my own. After all, killing a man was a capital sin.

The door creaked open, and Nick hesitated before stepping inside, as if he hadn’t expected me to still be there. Maybe he had hoped I’d run away. He shrugged off his jacket and headed straight for the bathroom.

The sound of running water. He was showering.

This was my chance.

I stood up as quietly as I could and slipped into the kitchen, grabbing the first knife I saw. I hid it under my pillow and sat back down, trying to appear as obedient as possible.

When he came out, he was wearing what I assumed was his sleepwear—an old t-shirt that might have once been decent enough to wear outside and a pair of loose pants. He glanced at me warily before heading toward the bed.

I took a deep breath. He couldn’t suspect anything.

But instead of what I had expected, he simply pulled back the sheets and climbed in with a deep sigh, letting out a quiet hum of satisfaction as he sank into his bed.

I turned to look at him, but his eyes were already closed.

"Good night."

That was all he said.

I watched his silhouette for a while, lying still under the blankets. He knew that refusing to consummate the marriage could lead to severe punishment—maybe even death. And yet, he didn’t seem to regret it. He knew exactly what he was risking.

But no one would ever know.

I hesitated, fidgeting with my hands.

" I’m not an obedient woman. I don’t know how to cook. Or iron..."

It was the only thing I could bring myself to say.

Nick opened one eye and studied me for a moment.

"Good thing I do," he replied before shutting his eyes again.

Something inside me eased. It was as if I had been carrying a pocket full of stones and someone had suddenly lifted the weight away.

Could I return to my work with the resistance?

What would happen if he found out I was part of Mayday?

I slipped under the covers, careful not to touch him.

That night, for the first time since arriving in Gilead, I slept peacefully.

[glamdringwlv]

Unchain my heart: Part 8. Hit the road Jack

Unchain my heart series. Logan Howlett x oc!fmale Summary: Mia Green has grown up in a lab, subjected to numerous experiments due to her status as a mutant. When she manages to escape, Charles Xavier takes her in at his mansion, giving her a new life and helping her regain her memories. However, the arrival of a new resident at the mansion threatens to destabilize everything she believed.

Warnings: angst. Violence, foul language, a mix of various canons, X-Men movies, X-Men animated series, X-men comics.

"You're kidding me."

Logan had frozen halfway to the car, watching as Mia dumped her bags onto the back seat. His own luggage dangled in his hand, as if the shock had left him unable to finish the task he'd started.

She turned, holding out her hand, motioning impatiently for him to give her the bag. That smirk of disbelief on his face grated on her nerves.

“You gonna give me the bag or keep laughing?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, wiping away the grin and handing her his stuff. She quickly shoved it in with hers, then hurried over to the driver’s seat. Logan still hadn’t moved, standing there with his arms crossed, towering over her as he watched her settle in.

“Logan, if you're coming along, get in the damn car already. Quit stalling.”

He shook his head, clearly still not believing what he was seeing, and finally made his way around to the passenger side. He slid in with a grunt, wincing as his legs cramped against the dashboard. After fumbling for the lever, he managed to shove the seat back, but the car gave an ominous creak that didn’t sound promising.

Mia sat there, hand halfway to the ignition, watching him with a raised eyebrow. She couldn’t deny that the situation had a strange humor to it, despite everything. She tried not to smile as he shifted around, visibly uncomfortable in the cramped seat.

“You’re gonna break it,” she said dryly.

Logan looked at her, utterly incredulous, as if she couldn’t see the absurdity of it all.

“Maybe if this thing wasn’t built like a damn coffee machine…”

“Hey, don’t diss my car.”

He stopped, surprised, and turned to face her, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“This thing? You call this a car?”

“Sorry it’s not some fancy sports car. A waitress’s pay doesn’t really cover that.”

“Waitress? Didn’t Charles set you up with something decent, like he did for everyone else at the mansion?”

Mia started the engine, putting one hand on the back of Logan’s seat to back up. He suddenly felt her proximity, a warmth that hit him like a punch in the gut. The close quarters of the car felt even tighter.

“I didn’t want the professor to buy me anything. I wanted something I earned. Something that was actually mine.”

“Yeah, but a Honda Odyssey?” Logan said with a slight smirk.

“I wanted space. I used to—was part of a big group. I didn’t want anyone left out.”

Logan’s gaze lingered on her a little too long, and it made her uneasy, like he was seeing right through her.

“Didn’t take you for the sentimental type.”

“We don’t know each other,” she replied tersely.

Logan sighed, crossing his arms as he looked out the window, as if trying to escape a tension pressing down on his chest like a weight. Mia didn’t need to read his mind to feel the frustration simmering beneath his surface. She held her posture, though.

The silence weighed on them. Neither of them was big on words, but the charged air between them seemed thick with unspoken questions. With a quick, jerky movement, Mia switched on the radio. The low strains of Johnny Cash’s voice filled the car, and the lyrics of "Hurt" seeped into the silence. She fought the sting in her eyes, blinking hard. Logan, without looking, raised an eyebrow, picking up on her reaction but not commenting.

When he couldn’t stand the silence anymore, he spoke up.

“You gonna tell me where we’re headed?”

She glanced at him for barely a second, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. Thoughts spun in her mind, a storm she couldn’t contain. “This is all I have left to control. If I share it, it’s over.” That single thought echoed, louder than the rest. Mia tried to take a deep breath, steadying herself, but still didn’t answer.

“Really? You’re just… not gonna say anything?” He leaned toward her, his presence filling the car until it felt even smaller. “So, we’re playing it that way?”

She turned, frowning, finding him closer than expected. Her whole body tensed, ready for a fight.

“You’ve gotta be kidding…”

“What’s—”

“You drag me out here, and you can’t even tell me what the hell your plan is?”

Mia’s irritation flared, somewhere inside knowing he was right. She didn’t feel comfortable with the situation either, but it hit her that she’d lose her mind if she were in Logan’s place. Not that he’d had much choice but to follow her, to avoid that familiar, searing pain that flared every time they separated.

“Look, none of this is my fault.”

“Yeah? I didn’t ask to be stuck in this mess either, trailing you like some damn dog,” he snapped, his voice thick with irritation.

Mia pressed her lips together, a thin line of frustration written across her face.

“I don’t trust you, okay?” she said, eyes locked on the road. Somewhere deep down, she knew it wasn’t true. But voicing it opened a wound she couldn’t ignore.

“Funny words, coming from someone who asked me for blind trust in the middle of a pretty sticky situation.”

She paused, momentarily confused, until the memory clicked. On that last mission, she’d asked him to trust her, and he had—without a second thought.

“This is different.”

“Sure it is, because back then, you were the one in control. I was just supposed to dive in without looking, hoping for the best.”

Anger surged through her. It frustrated her that he could read her so easily. She was the telepath, so how could he see right through her without even trying? She wanted to scream, to press the gas pedal and let the adrenaline drown out her fears and everything else. Just as she prepared to do so, an uncontainable pulse forced her to speak, words tumbling out before she could stop them.

“I can’t trust myself. I don’t even know if I’ll find the answers I need, and I can’t afford to share the one hope I’m clinging to.”

Her vision blurred, and she was grateful there weren’t any other cars nearby. She let one hand off the wheel to wipe her tears away, feeling exhausted to her core. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, a warmth rising up her neck as nausea curled in her stomach. The confession felt like she’d driven the car to its limit and jumped out at top speed.

“Mia…”

“No,” she whispered, voice thick with pain and barely holding on. “I don’t need your pity. I know this isn’t fair to you, but I need this. I need to hold onto it myself.”

Logan felt that strange pulse toward her stir restlessly. He’d felt it twist before, that day on the frozen lake when he’d seen her suffering. Her pain wasn’t physical, but whatever stirred inside him wanted to stop it, to root out anything that could hurt her. He clenched his jaw, resisting, but as usual, something beyond his control took over.

“Alright.”

The pain vanished, replaced by pure surprise.

“What?”

“You’ll tell me when you realize I’m as deep in this as you are,” he muttered, shrugging. “Or when you figure out it’s not your fault, either.”

She didn’t answer, but she felt a strange sense of relief she couldn’t explain. She almost wanted to cry, unsure if it was from the weight of holding everything in or from the release she hadn’t expected. Her chest tightened, a lump forming in her throat, and her eyes blurred again. Silence wrapped around them, with Cash’s melancholy voice filling the car and calming the air between them.

They didn’t speak about the conversation for the rest of the drive. Instead, they argued over music volume or the A/C’s intensity. Logan was always hot and refused to roll up the window, though the wind whipped Mia’s hair around, making it hard for her to see the road.

“Great, so now we’re gonna die.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Darkness had swallowed the daylight by the time she felt her eyelids drooping, her muscles aching from the tension. Her back and shoulders were so stiff they throbbed, but she didn’t want Logan to notice. Not that she knew he was watching her every move. He could see how her shoulders hunched, how her posture slouched. She was blinking more often, yawning more than she’d care to admit. He watched her closely, drawn to her presence like a moth to a flame.

“You do know I can drive, right?” he finally said.

“You don’t know where we’re going.”

“Mia, you’re gonna pass out from exhaustion. This is ridiculous.”

She was so tired she couldn’t even think of a sharp retort, only managing a small shrug.

“I’m fine.”

But she wasn’t. She just wanted to rest, but she wouldn’t share their destination with him. She could keep control of the situation. She would. Her traitorous eyes caught sight of a sign for a service area just a few miles away. She fantasized about collapsing on a bed after grabbing something to eat, nearly sighing at the thought. But no—she had to keep going, push through everything weighing on her, or it’d swallow her whole.

if you die of exhaustion, there'll be nothing left to fix.

The beast’s poisonous voice echoed in her head again. She knew it had a plan, maybe waiting for her to wear herself down so it could take control. If she got too weak, she wouldn’t be able to hold it back. Maybe stopping for a couple of hours wasn't such a bad idea.

She turned off the highway, pulling into what looked like an old roadside diner. She sat there for a few more minutes, considering it.

“We really going in there?” Logan’s voice cut through her thoughts.

Mia stared at him a moment, too tired to answer right away. Logan noticed how exhausted she looked—not just tired, but completely worn out. Dark rings had formed under her eyes, giving her a nearly sickly appearance.

“Just for a bit,” she finally said. “I’ll grab a coffee, and we’ll keep going.”

He thought about insisting on taking over driving afterward, but he knew it’d be pointless.

“Yes, ma’am.” He shrugged.

They stepped out of the car and walked into the diner, where the few truckers and staff inside immediately went quiet. It wasn’t that anyone had been talking much, but they definitely felt like intruders. Mia felt the hairs on her neck stand up as a strange unease crept over her, but it faded when Logan’s hand pressed against her lower back, guiding her further inside. He leaned close and murmured near her ear.

“Nothing’s gonna happen. Got it?”

She turned just enough to meet his eyes, wondering exactly what he’d picked up on.

“I felt it too,” he whispered.

He gave a slow nod, moving to the counter to order. Mia sat down and watched him as he navigated the space, his presence drawing a few hard stares. Logan placed a couple of bills on the counter and waited for their order. She felt like she might fall asleep standing up, but the sight of a group of men gathering around him jolted her awake. Mia tensed up, her pulse quickening. She couldn’t hear what they were saying from that distance, but she knew immediately it wasn’t friendly. Even so, Logan just stood there, unaffected by their hostility.

Restless, she got up as the waitress placed their food in front of Logan. She moved through the circle of men surrounding him, standing beside him and keeping her eyes on the food. Taking a cup and plate, she murmured a quiet “thank you” to the waitress, noticing that now all attention had shifted to her. A surge of darkness stirred inside her, eager to break free. She fought to contain it, knowing she’d lose control completely if she let it out.

“If you don’t mind...” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Logan stood close behind her, waiting for a path to clear. She realized then she might have to fight to keep her inner demons and the mutant beside her in check. She didn’t believe in God, but she briefly wished for some kind of divine help.

After a long, tense moment, the men stepped aside, watching them intently as they moved past. When they finally reached the table, Mia nearly slumped forward, too exhausted to even feel hungry.

“What the hell was that?” she muttered.

Logan shrugged and shoveled food into his mouth.

“You’re really gonna tell me that was just random?”

He looked at her as if he was about to say something scathing, then held back, settling on pointing his fork at her.

“I don’t ask about your past. How about you do the same?” he said, smirking slightly.

She knew he was right. But part of her felt guilty, like he owed her an explanation. She didn’t want her dragged into his problems. A small voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she’d done exactly that to him already. Sinking further into her seat, she let the caffeine work its way into her system.

They ate in silence, and Mia felt so worn out that she nearly drifted off while Logan finished his meal. She might’ve actually fallen asleep, because she was startled when she felt his hand gently shake her shoulder.

When she looked up, he was standing beside her, ready to go. She felt more disoriented than before—this stop had been a mistake. She stood up slowly and followed him to the door.

“You should let me—”

“I’m fine, just zoned out a bit. The coffee’ll kick in soon enough.”

“Total bull—”

“Hey, Wolverine! Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Wolverine? Mia turned toward the voice, realizing the shout was directed at her traveling companion. Three large men stalked toward them from the far corner of the parking lot, their steps heavy with arrogance. One look was enough to take in their scars, sneers, and hostility. Logan’s shoulders tensed, and he muttered a curse under his breath as he took a step forward.

“I told you, we’re not looking for trouble.”

The tallest of the three barked out a laugh.

“Not looking for trouble? Why don’t you tell that to my brother, you piece of mutant trash? You left him in the hospital for weeks. Think we’d forget that?”

Mia watched Logan’s fists clench as he took a slow, deep breath, clearly holding back from escalating things. One of the men then shifted his attention to her, eyeing her up and down with disdain.

“And you? Another filthy mutant?”

The hatred in his voice chilled her. Mia tried to hold down the anger simmering inside her. She was so tired she could barely stand, but their insults, the mocking tone, and their sneers struck a dangerous chord within her. She fought to keep calm.

“We just want to leave,” she said, her voice shaking but firm.

The man sneered, letting out a dry laugh. The way he looked at her...it was that same look people gave her when they thought she didn’t belong, when they saw her as something less. Why…? Why did they treat them this way?

Without meaning to, she let her mind reach out to the men, hoping to disorient them just enough to make them step back. But she was too drained, and her control slipped. Something dark, a primal rage within her, stirred, demanding more than just defense—it demanded retribution.

One of the men scoffed and muttered a slur, and then, with sudden, cruel speed, he drew a gun. Mia barely had time to react before the deafening crack of a gunshot shattered the air.

The world seemed to stop. The bullet struck Logan square in the head, and he collapsed, his body rigid and still. Blood began to pool on the asphalt. Mia’s vision blurred, and she felt something primal and uncontrollable rip through her, breaking free. All the anger she’d been bottling up, the humiliation, the feeling of being despised—it all exploded inside her like a volcanic rage.

A dark, malicious voice whispered through her consciousness, an instinct she didn’t recognize, demanding vengeance, seething at the thought of anyone daring to hurt Logan like this.

Barely aware of her own thoughts, she was consumed by a fury that drowned out everything else. She wanted to hurt them, to make them suffer as she suffered watching Logan fall. It was deeper than anger; it was a need to destroy.

The minds of the three men trembled under the weight of her power. She tried to hold back, to keep from unleashing that wrath, but the beast inside her—her darker side, which she’d tried so hard to control—was already loose and beyond her reach. One by one, the men stopped laughing. Their faces went pale, their eyes dull, and they slumped to the ground, empty shells, their minds shattered and vacant.

As they fell, Mia slowly came back to herself, as if waking from a nightmare. She looked at the lifeless figures on the ground, and the weight of her own fury hit her like a blow. Her breath grew ragged, and she could barely stop the tears from spilling over.

Almost staggering, she turned to Logan, whose wound had already started to heal, though he remained unconscious. Shaking, she lifted him with difficulty, her own body feeling fragile and weak. Getting him into the passenger seat took every bit of strength she had left. Her legs trembled, and her vision blurred, but she forced herself to keep moving. She glanced around to ensure no one had seen what happened. Despite the gunshot, no one had bothered to look out the diner’s windows. Dazed, she got in the car, speeding away from the scene.

Mia gripped the wheel tightly, the road ahead a dark and silent threat. Logan lay beside her, barely breathing, and she kept glancing over, checking to make sure he was still there, still alive. She felt her own body growing weaker; each passing second was a struggle to stay awake.

The need to protect him, to protect them both, surged through her with each mile. The road blurred before her tired eyes, and, almost by instinct, she veered off onto a barely visible side path, a dirt road leading into the shadows of a small forest. She knew they’d be safe here, at least for a while.

As she cut the engine, exhaustion washed over her, crashing into her like a wave. But the beast inside her hadn’t let go just yet. That dark, primal presence that had surfaced during the fight wasn’t fueled by hatred or violence anymore; instead, it whispered to her, like an ancient, commanding voice, urging her not to give in, not to let exhaustion win. It demanded that she fulfill her duty to protect them.

Almost unconsciously, her trembling hands reached out, grabbing Logan with a strength that seemed impossible for her weary body. She felt her darker side pushing her forward, feeding her with energy that had long since drained, a raw, instinctual force filling her muscles and guiding her every move.

She lowered the back seats, folding them down to create space where she could lay him out, her hands moving with nothing but pure determination. Each effort hurt, each second she felt herself slipping further from consciousness, but the beast remained, fueling her. It whispered in her mind, reminding her she couldn’t fail.

Finally, with a strength that left her arms trembling, she managed to push Logan onto the makeshift space in the back. His breathing was shallow, and a chill crawled down her spine seeing him this vulnerable. The instinct to protect him overwhelmed her, and she felt a tightness in her chest as she covered him with a blanket, something she’d once kept in the car for things as simple as picnics. Logan looked almost peaceful, as if none of the fury or danger that usually followed him could reach him here.

When she finished, the beast in her mind seemed to relax, as if its purpose had been fulfilled. She felt its presence withdraw slowly, sinking back into the depths of her consciousness, taking with it the strength it had loaned her. Now that they were safe, that dark, powerful, strangely protective voice faded, allowing her to rest. Its weight lifted, leaving her feeling empty and vulnerable.

As it receded, Mía felt the last traces of energy leaving her body. With one final look at Logan, the relief of knowing they were both safe washed over her, a bittersweet comfort. And in that last moment, as the adrenaline finally drained away, darkness overtook her completely. With a soft thud, she collapsed over him, unable to stop herself.

Later, Logan’s eyes blinked open slowly, a dull pain throbbing through his head that blurred everything around him for a moment. The scent of damp earth and wet leaves surrounded him, the echo of those men’s voices lingering in his mind like shattered fragments. He couldn’t recall much of what happened, only the surge of rage when they’d insulted Mía, and then… blankness, followed by this quiet awakening.

The first thing he felt was the warmth of something resting on him. He glanced down, finding her slumped over his chest, her breathing so soft it barely stirred her body. Seeing her like this jolted him at first, fearing something might have happened to her, but he relaxed as he felt the steady rhythm of her breath.

As his senses returned, the pieces began to fall into place. She’d gotten him out of there. Mía, exhausted and practically dragging herself, had found a way to pull them both out of danger and bring them to safety. The realization hit him with an unexpected intensity, spreading slowly, a dense warmth rising in his chest. He knew how hard she’d fought just to stay on her feet even before the fight, and now, seeing her so worn out but safe by his side, filled him with a blend of gratitude and awe he couldn’t easily explain.

That warmth in his chest grew, unsettling him and somehow comforting him at the same time. He wasn’t used to feelings like this, especially when they came from such a deep, selfless connection. But there was something about the way she, with her own scars and struggles, had managed to protect him that left him completely disarmed. What kind of strength had driven her to carry them both when he himself had been helpless? His mind circled back to that question again and again.

Gently, he shifted his body, sliding her to his side so she could rest more comfortably, making sure her head lay softly. He noticed her breathing remained steady, and in the quiet, that constant rhythm brought him a strange calm. She was alright. She’d done what she’d set out to do, she’d protected him, and that stirred something rare and powerful within him.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he noticed a faint shiver running through Mía. He watched her for a few seconds, uncertain, and saw that her skin was cold, her lips slightly pale. Although he’d positioned her close to him, her body was still reacting to the exhaustion, and the damp, chilly forest air only made things worse.

Without overthinking it, he leaned down and wrapped his arms around her carefully, pulling her close to his chest. The contact let him feel her breathing, faint but steady, and the soft beat of her heart, marking a rhythm that brought him some relief. Feeling his warmth, Mía unconsciously curled into him, seeking his heat, and he shifted to make sure they were both sheltered as best as possible.

As the minutes passed, something in him began to change. Her heartbeat was a quiet melody that blended with the sound of her breathing, and the air around them held her scent, a subtle but intoxicating mix of electricity and earth, something that seemed so uniquely her. Somehow, that scent and the steady rise and fall of her chest wrapped around him, easing the confusion and pain still weighing on his mind.

Gradually, his eyelids grew heavy, and he realized his own senses were beginning to give in. He tightened his hold slightly, enveloping her with his body, making sure she was safe, that the cold couldn’t reach her. That strange warmth from before returned, but this time he welcomed it, letting the comfort it brought wash over him.

The silence of the forest surrounded them, but to him, the only sound that mattered was Mía’s heartbeat, strong and near. For the first time in a long time, he let himself close his eyes without fighting the dark thoughts, allowing that warmth to lull him. He barely noticed when sleep finally took hold, with Mía safe in his arm

[glamdringwlv]

Unchain my heart: Part 7. The Beast in me.

Unchain my heart series. Logan Howlett x oc!fmale Summary: Mia Green has grown up in a lab, subjected to numerous experiments due to her status as a mutant. When she manages to escape, Charles Xavier takes her in at his mansion, giving her a new life and helping her regain her memories. However, the arrival of a new resident at the mansion threatens to destabilize everything she believed.

WORD COUNT: 9K (so sorry, i need it) Warnings: ANGST. Violence, foul language, a mix of various canons, X-Men movies, X-Men animated series, X-men comics.

Author's Note: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for all the support and love you’ve shown for the story. Sorry it took me so long, but I was stuck with this part. I knew what I wanted to do, just didn’t know how to do it. If you like it, let me know—it helps me a lot. Thanks again!"

She could still feel the remnants of the adrenaline rush from the mission, even though hours had passed. She felt whole again. Almost like before. It wasn’t just about maintaining control, or the fact that she’d handled the situation brilliantly; it was because she had used that dark part of herself, the one that lurked inside, to keep her teammates safe. It was strange, but for the first time in a long while, she felt in control. Or perhaps not so much in control, but… balanced. As if she had finally learned how to balance both parts of herself, even if just for a fleeting moment.

She could still feel a faint tingling in her fingertips, a lingering trace of the energy that still coursed through her body. This time, it didn’t scare her. It was a comforting feeling, a reminder of what she had achieved. The energy, the chaos… it was all part of her, but now she felt she could live with it. Though deep down, she knew that peace wouldn’t last forever.

Despite the conversation she had had with Scott just before boarding the jet, her mood had improved significantly, and the people around her had noticed. No one mentioned it, for fear that if they acknowledged it, it might vanish. They were relieved at the thought that the Mía they knew was back. But Mía felt that person was an illusion, a shadow. She wasn’t the Mía they thought they knew; she wasn’t even sure who she was anymore.

All these thoughts raced through her mind, fighting for attention, but one of them stood out. As they cruised at altitude, Ororo approached her, placing a gentle hand on her back in a supportive gesture. A phrase slipped from her lips casually: “It’s good to have you back. You’re yourself again.” Mía felt as if her head split in two at that moment. She could only smile and nod stupidly. The comment had been buried beneath the pride and adrenaline, but as the initial high faded, all the fears she had returned, echoing loudly in her head.

“You’re yourself again.”

Who was she supposed to be? Those words stirred something deep inside her, something that had been growing silently for years. A part of her had always felt disconnected, like she was trapped in a version of herself that wasn’t entirely her own. Was Ororo referring to the obedient girl, the one who followed orders without question? Or did she mean the person who didn’t hesitate to run into danger, the one who always tried to do the right thing, though now she barely recognized that version of herself.

The truth was, the only time she had felt whole was when she had loosened the chains on the beast she kept locked away, the one buried in the darkness of her memories. At that moment, when both parts of herself had come together, a sliver of peace had filled her chest with joy. But that peace was fleeting, because each time she returned to the mansion, that void would settle back in. She felt as though everyone around her was trying to reconnect her to someone she no longer was, or perhaps had never been.

And then came the emptiness. That same emptiness that suffocated her each time she tried to fit into a mold that no longer belonged to her. Mía could feel how every little smile, every kind gesture, every word of support became another chain that bound her tighter. They didn’t see her. They couldn’t understand the storm that raged beneath the surface. There was no way they would ever see who she really was again because she wasn’t that person anymore.

She felt out of place as everyone moved to help the new mutants adjust to their new lives. She stood on the sidelines, watching, unsure of what to do, even though she had done this a thousand times before. How could she help others find their place when she couldn’t find her own? A dull ache settled in her chest, so strong that she instinctively raised her hand to massage the area, hoping to ease it somehow. The pressure in her chest grew with every passing second, as if just being there, watching them, was a contradiction.

She needed to get out of there.

She needed…

“Mía.”

Charles’ voice crashed over her like a wave, pulling with it all the tormenting thoughts in her mind. She knew the professor wanted to calm her mental chaos, but she couldn’t help feeling threatened when she tried to pick up the thread of her thoughts and couldn’t. That was enough. She knew he was calling her, so she made her way to his office. Her entire being buzzed with anticipation. It had been a long time since she had spoken with Charles, and she had no idea what to expect.

When she arrived, Charles was waiting behind his imposing desk, radiating the serenity he always projected. But this time, Mía couldn’t find the comfort she used to feel. There was tension in the air, thick and heavy. Something was different. She could sense it, though she couldn’t put it into words.

“I’m glad you came, Mía,” Charles said with a slight smile. “It’s been a while since we talked.”

She stood by the door, not crossing the threshold completely. For years, she had felt a connection with him, almost paternal, but now... that bond they had built over time felt distorted.

“I had to, right?” she joked, though her tone lacked conviction. She couldn’t help it; the formality of conversations with the professor always put her on edge.

Charles nodded, and for a moment, silence stretched between them.

“The mission was a success,” he began, as if trying to ease her into the conversation. “Even though you weren’t originally part of the team, everyone agrees that you’re back to your old self.”

Mía felt something twist inside her. Those words made her uncomfortable, as if she had been someone else all this time and no one had told her. “Back to your old self.” The phrase kept ringing in her head like an irritating echo, a mantra she couldn’t understand.

“If being myself means feeling more out of place than ever, then yeah, I guess I am,” she replied with a bitter smile. “Scott wouldn’t have even let me off the jet if Juggernaut hadn’t knocked him out cold.”

Charles tilted his head slightly, watching her in silence. He knew there was a deeper truth behind her words, but he let her continue. Mía could feel the weight of his gaze, the attention he always gave her. But today, it unsettled her.

“Charles, I went on that mission because I thought I needed it. God, I did need it—to get out of here and prove to myself that I still belong somewhere.” She breathed heavily, as if she had run a marathon, and closed her eyes as that feeling of being out of control washed over her again. “But it didn’t last. All this talk of ‘being myself again’ just gives me a headache. I don’t even know who they expect me to be anymore. And honestly, I’m not sure I want to be that person they think they know.”

The confession hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken sorrow. Charles watched her, his expression that of a mentor who had seen someone dear to him lose themselves in their own inner chaos. Though he knew more than he let on, he couldn’t ignore the pain he saw in her. Every word from Mía hit him like a reminder of the years that had passed, of the times he had seen that darkness inside her grow and threaten to consume her.

“Mía,” he said softly, leaning forward slightly, “you don’t have to be who others expect you to be. I just want you to be well, to find the peace you need.”

His words were genuine, but he felt a pang of fear. What if she couldn’t find that peace? What if it was too late?

She looked down, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach. There was something about Charles’ calmness, his constant concern, that made her feel even more lost. Did he know what was really happening inside her?

“I’m not sure you can help me anymore, Charles,” she murmured, her voice calmer now, as if stating a simple fact.

For a moment, a dark thought crossed her mind: Did he know more than he was letting on? Was he aware of that beast inside her, the one she barely understood, yet felt more present each day? Just the thought that he might know that part of her in ways she didn’t understand made her feel vulnerable. But she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t confront him directly.

“You’re slipping away from me, aren’t you?” Charles asked, breaking the silence, his voice laden with genuine sorrow.

Mía felt her defenses falter. She hadn’t expected him to put it that way, so bluntly. And deep inside, a small part of her wanted to scream that he wasn’t losing her, that everything was under control. But that would have been a lie.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, clenching her fists. “All I know is that everyone treats me like I’m a ticking time bomb, and nobody knows when I’m going to explode.”

“Mía, I know these past weeks have been... difficult,” Charles began cautiously, and she immediately picked up on the restraint in his voice, “and I don’t want you to feel like we’re ignoring what’s happening to you. I wanted to give you space. But I haven’t overlooked what happened at the lake or the way you’ve withdrawn from everyone.” He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “I’ve been where you are now. Losing control of yourself, feeling parts of you that you can’t understand... it’s terrifying. But you don’t have to face this alone.”

“But I have,” she interrupted, her voice stronger now, laden with frustration. “I always have, haven’t I? Holding myself back, keeping myself in check. I’ve kept going as if everything was fine when I knew something inside me was broken, and no one noticed. Because I had to lock it away. Because if I didn’t... I don’t know what would happen.”

Her breathing was ragged, and each word seemed like a release of the tension she had been bottling up for years. It was as if every time she spoke, another piece of her repressed, darker self broke free from the chains that held it back.

“I’m not broken, Charles. I’m worse than that. I’m... divided.” The words spilled out before she could stop them, her voice trembling as if she had just admitted something she had kept hidden, even from herself. “There’s a part of me I don’t recognize, a part that wants things I don’t want. And sometimes... I feel like it’s winning.”

Charles watched her silently, as if weighing each word, every inflection in her voice. Mía could see the pain in his eyes, but also an understanding that went beyond what she herself grasped. He knew. He had always known.

“I know you have, Mía,” Charles said softly. “I know how much it’s cost you. I’ve seen up close what you hide, what you try to control. That darkness inside you... it’s not something you can ignore forever.”

Mía looked at him, startled. What did he know? How much did he understand about what she was truly holding back? The feeling that he was hiding more from her than she realized crept back into her mind. Had he seen more than she herself remembered?

“What do you mean, Charles?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, a mix of disbelief and growing fury swelling inside her.

Charles leaned back slightly in his chair, his hands trembling imperceptibly as he folded them in his lap. He had known this conversation was coming, but he had never anticipated it unfolding like this. He had hoped that the bond of trust between them would give him more time, that Mía would come to him on her own, not driven by circumstances.

"Since the day you arrived here, I’ve always tried to help you find balance, to control your power. But once I saw the true extent of what you carry inside, I knew you couldn’t face it alone."

Mía’s stomach twisted. The air in the room thickened, buzzing with invisible tension. She clenched her fists, feeling the dark pulse of the beast within her, threatening to break the chains she had fought so hard to keep in place.

“What are you saying?” Mía’s voice wavered, her words trembling as though each one was a revelation she didn’t want to hear.

Charles sighed, as if he was laying the groundwork for something difficult. He knew what he was about to say would change everything between them.

"When we started the sessions... there was something inside you, something you couldn’t control. A part of you buried so deep that you weren’t even aware of its existence. It was dangerous, to you and to those around you."

Mía’s brow furrowed as she crossed her arms over her chest. Suspecting that he had hidden things from her was one thing, but hearing it confirmed was another. She wanted it to be a mistake, that she had overthought it all and jumped to the wrong conclusions. She tried to reason with herself, to assure herself that she was wrong.

“What part?” she asked quietly, her voice a mixture of fear and curiosity, though she already knew the answer.

Charles observed her carefully, searching for the right words.

“That part you’ve always kept at bay, the part you don’t control... it’s more than just your power. It’s something wild, something that... could destroy you.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Mía’s skin prickled as the weight of it settled in. The feeling of being split in two, of not being whole, had always been there. She had convinced herself it was because of lost memories, because of trauma. But now, Charles was speaking of something more. Something he had known about all along.

“How...?” Mía swallowed hard, her throat dry. “How do you know?”

Charles raised his hands in a gesture of peace, trying to calm the storm he could see brewing in Mía’s eyes.

“Mía, please understand, I did it for your own good. When we saw what you were facing, I had to take steps to protect you. You couldn’t deal with that part of yourself. And I couldn’t let it destroy you.”

“Steps?” Mía repeated, her disbelief quickly turning into fury. “What have you done, Charles?”

He averted his gaze for a moment, unable to hold her stare any longer. That small act was all Mía needed to understand that everything she had feared was true. The truth began to form in her mind, but she still didn’t want to believe it.

“You’ve been erasing my memories,” she whispered, barely louder than a breath.

Charles didn’t respond immediately, but his silence was confirmation enough.

“You’ve been manipulating me this whole time!” she shouted, her voice filled with rage and betrayal. “You’ve been holding me back, lying to me!”

“No, Mía, please...” Charles tried to interject, but his voice was weak. “I did it to protect you. That part of you... it’s dangerous, even to yourself. You didn’t know how to handle it.”

Mía stepped back, her body trembling. Everything she had believed in, the trust she had placed in him, in this mansion... it was all a lie.

Her breathing grew rapid. She could feel the anger swirling inside her, something far darker than mere rage. That beast, the one Charles had spoken of, began to awaken, feeding off the betrayal, off the pain.

“You let me believe I was broken. You kept me numb, made me think I could fit in here, when all you were doing was keeping a part of me locked away! You didn’t even give me a real chance!” she screamed, her voice filled with both desperation and fury.

Charles’ words echoed in her mind, but now they sounded distant. It no longer mattered what he said, what he tried to justify. The truth had been exposed, and the beast within her roared, eager to break free.

“Mía, I never meant to hurt you...” Charles tried to say, but his words caught in his throat when he saw the look in Mía’s eyes. A look he no longer recognized.

And then it happened. Before she could stop herself, before she could even think of the consequences, Mía entered Charles’ mind. This wasn’t about a simple search for answers anymore; it was a desperate need to uncover the truth. The barriers Charles had built in his mind began to crumble under the force of her fury.

Charles fought to resist, but the power surging from Mía was like an unstoppable force. In the midst of the chaos, she found a thread of memories Charles had failed to keep at bay—the location of the base where everything had started. The information poured into her mind like a flood she couldn’t hold back. She visualized it, felt the image of that place materialize inside her, along with fragments of memories that had remained locked away deep in her subconscious.

Charles gasped, summoning every bit of strength he had left to push her out of his mind. With a final, desperate effort, he raised his mental defenses and managed to expel her. The violent mental collision sent her stumbling backward, reeling from the weight of what she had just done. Her breathing was ragged, her body shaking from the mental toll of invading the mind of one of the most powerful telepaths in the world.

“Mía, stop!” Charles shouted, his voice distant and echoing, still reeling from what had just occurred. His usually composed face was now etched with visible anguish. It was the first time he had felt her slip so far from his reach. The first time he had felt the intensity of the beast now consuming her.

But Mía wasn’t listening anymore. The silence in the room was so dense she could barely hear the pounding of her own blood in her ears. She knew what she had done, knew she had crossed a line, but something inside her refused to feel regret. The emptiness that had once tormented her was now being replaced by something else—power. Control. And a dark satisfaction that whispered to her that she didn’t need anyone.

“You don’t have to do this,” Charles managed to say, his voice broken from the strain and the sadness. He could barely hold himself upright in his chair, exhausted from the mental invasion. His hands trembled, and the look he gave her was a mix of desperation and sorrow. “I can still help you. We can still control this, together. You don’t have to face this alone.”

But those words no longer had the same effect on her. Mía looked at him, but her eyes no longer showed the vulnerability or confusion they once did. They were cold, calculating, filled with a determination she barely recognized in herself.

“I don’t need your help anymore, Charles,” she said, her voice firm, almost icy. There was something new in her tone, an emotional distance that hadn’t been there before. “Now... I’ll handle this on my own.”

Charles’ heart shattered into a thousand pieces at her words. Over the years, he had seen many mutants lose themselves to their own darkness, but never had he feared for anyone’s fate as much as he did now for Mía. He knew that by letting her go, he risked losing her forever, but he also understood that, in this state, he couldn’t stop her. Not when she had already decided her path.

“Mía, please...” Charles made one last plea, his voice heavy with grief. “I know you feel betrayed, but this doesn’t have to be the end. You’ll always have a home here, with us. Always...”

Mía cut him off before he could finish. She took a step closer to the door, not looking back at him.

“Maybe those words would’ve worked before. Now, I don’t know who I am here, or what role I play. And the truth is, it doesn’t matter anymore.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but each word was like a blade. “You kept me imprisoned too.”

Charles felt her words fall on him like a weight he couldn’t bear. There was nothing more he could say. He knew that any attempt to justify what he had done would only fuel the resentment now consuming Mía.

She slowly turned and opened the door. The cold air from the hallway hit her face, but it was almost a relief after the intensity of their conversation.

“Goodbye, Charles,” she murmured before leaving, her voice barely an echo as it faded into the doorway.

And with that, she was gone.

Charles sat in his chair, paralyzed, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on his chest. He knew he had lost her. He knew that, even if Mía would never admit it, the darkness that had been growing inside her now had control over her more than ever. And he had been the one who, in his attempt to protect her, had pushed her to this abyss.

The office, once a sanctuary of peace, now felt like a prison. The echo of his words still lingered on the walls, but more than that, the silence Mía had left behind was deafening.

Charles closed his eyes, overwhelmed by a crushing loneliness. He had failed—not just her, but himself too.

The fear he'd felt seeing her slip into that darkness was a reminder of his own failure.

The door to Charles' office clicked shut behind her, but the echo of their conversation kept ringing in Mia’s head, growing louder with every step down the halls of the mansion. The walls seemed to close in on her, as if the suffocating presence she’d always felt here was once again dragging her back to a place she no longer wanted to belong. It wasn’t just what Charles had done—it was realizing that every moment she had spent here, everything she believed, had been a lie. She had been a prisoner and didn’t even know it.

The faces of the other mutants she passed looked at her with warmth and respect, but that no longer comforted Mia. Ororo’s words still echoed in her mind: “You’re back to being yourself.” But the truth was, Mia didn’t know who she was anymore, or which parts of her were real, and which were the product of Charles’ manipulations. The betrayal weighed heavy in her chest, dragging everything else down with it—her trust, her sense of belonging, her connection to the others.

Her feet carried her automatically toward her room, though she had no plan. She didn’t know what she was going to do next. All she knew was that she couldn’t stay—not after what she’d learned. As she walked, memories of the mission blurred together with Charles’ words, her mind spinning in circles. There was a growing urge inside her to leave, to run before everything crumbled again.

When she entered her room, she closed the door behind her, leaning against the cool wood for a moment. Everything was exactly as she had left it before the mission—orderly, impersonal, like a room that had never really been hers. It was as if she had always been just passing through, never intending to put down roots. And now, that thought made everything easier.

She crossed to the closet and began pulling out clothes, moving mechanically. She knew what had to come next, what she needed to do, but it still didn’t feel entirely real. As she packed her things into a bag, her mind kept replaying her conversation with Charles, trying to process it all, but kept circling back to the same thought: I have to leave.

Mia paused for a moment, her hand frozen in the air as she tried to zip up her backpack. The silence in the room pressed down on her, and when she looked up, she saw Scott standing in the doorway, confusion and pain etched across his face. She knew he was waiting—waiting for some kind of explanation that might help him understand. But she wasn’t sure she had the words.

“You’re really leaving,” Scott said quietly, like he still couldn’t quite believe it. The disbelief in his voice was palpable, like he was watching something he’d always taken for granted fall apart before his eyes. His chest rose and fell unevenly, like he’d run all the way there.

Mía looked away, unable to confront his expression. The weight of what she was about to do felt crushing. It wasn’t just the departure, or the end of their relationship. It was everything that it entailed. Everything she was leaving behind.

“I can’t stay, Scott,” she murmured, pressing her lips together. Her words were barely a whisper, yet each one carried a truth so heavy it hurt to say them. “I don’t know how to explain it to you, I don’t know if you’d understand… I don’t even understand it myself. I just know I can’t stay.”

Scott stepped forward, trying to close the distance between them, but there was something invisible that separated them, something that had been growing for months, perhaps years—something neither of them had wanted to fully admit until that moment.

“Why?” he asked, his voice laden with helplessness. “Mía, you have to tell me why. I can’t… I can’t understand if you don’t explain it.”

She looked at him then, her eyes red, her lips trembling. Emotions roiled within her, a mix of guilt, anger, and desperation. And yet, she didn’t know how to express what she was feeling. It wasn’t just confusion or pain. It was something deeper. Something she hadn’t fully grasped until that moment.

“Because… because I feel like I’m losing myself,” she finally murmured, letting out a shaky sigh. “Every day that passes here, I feel like a part of me disappears. As if I’m trying to be someone, I’m no longer... or worse, someone I’ve never been. I’m becoming a shadow of what others expect, and that’s killing me.”

Scott stood still, absorbing her words. But his eyes reflected the same incomprehension, the same bewilderment as before. He couldn’t grasp it, not completely. Because to him, what she was had always been enough. To him, Mía was already who she was meant to be.

“You don’t have to be perfect for me,” Scott said, his voice breaking, trying to hold on to something. “You don’t have to be anything more than what you are right now.”

“But I don’t even know who I am now, Scott,” she replied, her voice cracking. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, what I’ve been trying to say for so long. I don’t know what’s left of me here. Everything I do, it’s all… it’s just an attempt to fit into something that no longer makes sense to me. And trying to keep it up is breaking me more than I can bear.”

A long silence hung between them. The distance felt so palpable that, for a moment, Scott realized that no matter how many words they exchanged, they couldn’t bridge it.

“Then what am I to you?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. “If you’re losing yourself here… what does our relationship mean to you? What does everything we’ve been through mean?”

Mía lowered her head, feeling the pain in her chest grow. It wasn’t that she didn’t care for him, it wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate everything they had shared. But that was the problem. Everything they had once been together felt like a distant echo, something she could no longer reclaim, no matter how hard she tried.

“You are… you’re everything I thought I needed,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. She smiled at the memories; a sad grimace painted by tears. She reached out to take his hands, searching for the right words as she stroked the back of his hand in a tender gesture that broke her a little more. “For a long time, you were my anchor, my one constant. But that made me dependent on you to understand who I was. And now I realize I can’t keep leaning on what we were to find myself.”

Scott looked at her, his eyes reflecting pain, but also an internal struggle to accept what he was hearing. He didn’t know how to respond to that because deep down, he knew she was right. Something between them had changed, something had broken. But that didn’t make it any less painful to accept.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he finally said, his voice trembling. He withdrew his hands to cup her face, trying to regain the bond they once shared. The touch hurt more than any goodbye. “I don’t want it all to end like this. There must be another way, Mía. You can’t just… leave it all behind.”

He pressed their foreheads together, and she felt like it was too much, like she could drown in his desperation. She felt her heart squeeze at his words. She loved him in a way she could no longer define. But she knew that if she didn’t let him go, they would both remain trapped in an endless cycle of pain and confusion.

“Sometimes you have to lose everything to find yourself,” she murmured. “And that… that’s what I’m trying to do. It’s not because I don’t care about you, Scott. It’s because if I stay, I’ll never be anything more than a shadow. And I can’t keep living like this. And God, I know that if I stayed and asked you to help me through all this madness, you would. And that’s what tears me apart—the thought of dragging you down with me into this nonsense.”

Scott stood still, the weight of her words hanging over him like a hammer. He felt that with each one, something inside him crumbled. But he couldn’t stop her; he couldn’t make her stay if it meant breaking her even more.

“Mía, your absence hurts more than anything you could do to me.”

She could hear her heart shatter into a thousand pieces at those words. And then she looked at him one last time, knowing what she had to do. She knew it wasn’t fair, but she also understood it was the only way to ease the pain for both of them. She closed her eyes and, with a final effort, pressed her lips against his—a gesture filled with tenderness and pain. She took advantage of his bewilderment and slipped into his mind, feeling the resistance of his will, an attempt to stop her.

Every memory of their relationship, every moment of love transformed. The first kiss, the nights shared, the promises they once made... all faded, turning into the image of a distant friendship. But as she pushed forward, the pain inside her grew. It was like erasing a part of herself, a part that had been so significant that the loss hurt more than she had anticipated.

And Scott felt it. Though he couldn’t stop her, he sensed how his memories were crumbling, how the moments he had cherished slipped through his fingers. It was as if a part of him was also being erased.

When it was over, Mía opened her eyes, feeling a mixture of relief and devastation. She had done it. She had altered Scott’s memories, erased what they once were. But at a price she wasn’t sure she could bear.

Scott looked at her, confusion in his eyes reflecting the emptiness he now felt. “Take care, Grennie,” he said with a sad smile, as if he couldn’t remember what they had just been through.

Mía nodded, tears flowing freely now. “You too.”

After what she had done to Scott, Mía felt as though a crack had opened inside her, letting out a torrent of emotions she couldn’t control. She hated what she had done; she hated it as much as she had hated learning what Charles had done to her. But the beast within her mind didn’t share her grief. In fact, it urged her to think she had done the right thing, that she was only protecting Scott… and herself.

I am poison.

The thought emerged from the depths of her being. The idea repeated over and over, a haunting echo that began to seep into every fiber of her being. She had always been poison. She had ruined everything she touched, had destroyed the relationships she cared about most. If she stayed there, she would continue doing it.

If I stay, I’ll drag them all down with me.

The idea choked her. She felt the weight of guilt crushing her, squeezing her chest until she could hardly breathe. She couldn’t be the person they expected her to be because something inside her was broken. Something Charles had kept at bay, but now it was closer to the surface than ever. And then, like a serpent slithering through the shadows of her mind, the beast appeared. That dark entity moving within her, which had lingered on the periphery of her consciousness for so long, was now closer. She could feel its presence wrapping around her, whispering poisoned words that, somehow, also brought comfort.

I can fix this.

The voice echoed in her mind, soft but insistent, as if offering her a way out. Mía closed her eyes, clenching her fists. She didn’t want to listen to it. She didn’t want to accept what it was saying, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel that it was true.

If you stay, you’ll end up destroying everything you care about.

The beast wasn’t lying. Deep down, Mía knew that. Its mere presence was a threat. She had come close to losing control so many times... in the lake, during the sessions with Charles. She had always felt like she was walking a tightrope, and now that rope was fraying.

I can’t do this to them, she murmured, feeling the tears pressing behind her eyes. I can’t stay and watch everything fall apart around me.

Leave. Cut the ties.

Mía trembled. The beast wanted her to leave, wanted to be free completely. If she left the mansion, if she abandoned everything she knew, what would be left of her? What would she become?

Claim what is yours. Seek the answers. If you stay here, you will remain a prisoner. Only outside these walls can you be free.

The thought of leaving terrified her, but it also liberated her. Inside there, in the mansion, she would always be the version of Mía that Charles had shaped. If she stayed, she would never know the truth of who she really was. She would never be whole.

“Maybe…They can help me yet...” she thought briefly. “Jean, Scott... we could find a way to heal all this together.” But reality quickly seeped in. She knew that if she tried to stay, if she tried to find comfort in them, she would only drag them deeper into her pain. The bond she shared with them wouldn’t be enough to save her. And besides, the beast wouldn’t allow it.

There was no escape.

She was poisoned, and the best she could do was free them all from that poison.

Leave them behind. Save them from yourself.

She clung to that idea, feeling the beast whispering in her mind, fueling her decision. It’s the right thing, it told her. If you go, they won’t suffer anymore.

Mía felt her mind flood with that dark presence, that uncontrollable force now promising her relief. She could sense the minds of everyone in the mansion: Jean, Ororo, Hank... They were all there, tangled in the labyrinth of their memories and emotions, bound to her by invisible ties.

Do it.

The command resonated in her head like a sentence, and the beast acted. Mía felt something in her mind activate, something pushing her to invade the minds of others, to erase, modify, and rip away every trace of their emotional existence. Their pain faded as she eliminated it, feeling those connections snap one by one. With Scott, there had been an echo of resistance; he had fought back, but now it was easier. No one resisted.

With each mind she touched, something within Mía tore further apart, as if she were ripping pieces of herself away. She felt her connection to them unraveling, leaving a growing emptiness, a cold void.

Jean. Her powerful mind was the first to fall, her memories of Mía dissolving into insignificance.

Ororo. The bond between them shattered into a thousand pieces.

Hank. It took a little longer with him, but even he faded into the mist of the new reality Mía was weaving.

Her heart screamed in pain as she delved deep into their minds. Every image was a dagger to her soul, but the beast urged her to continue. Do it, Mía. Free it.

It modified their memories one by one, replacing deep relationships with blurred shadows.

The process was slow, painful, but the beast inside her was relentless. It felt like tearing the roots of a tree deeply embedded in her heart, breaking each bond with a precision that hurt as much as it healed.

This is the way. The darkness that had embraced her was stronger than any doubt, stronger than the love that had once connected to them.

Finally, when the last thread broke, everything went dark.

But in that moment, realizing what she had done, Mía felt something within her shatter in a way she had never experienced before. She felt as though she were destroying herself in the process. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. The silence inside her was deafening, an echo of all she had just erased.

There’s no personality to cling to, because I no longer exist. She thought.

When she tried to feel the other minds, those of the ones she had also altered, a kind of mist spread between them. The beast smiled from some dark corner of her mind.

But then, upon reaching the end, she realized something was missing. She couldn’t feel Logan.

Where is he? she thought. There was no trace of his mind; she couldn’t reach him.

The beast smiled in her mind, satisfied.

It doesn’t matter. He wasn’t meant to be one of them.

The words echoed in her head, confusing her. But before she could explore further, the beast closed the doors of her mind.

The work was done. The ties were broken. The mansion no longer held strong memories of her. And with that last effort, the beast dragged away all the pain, all the guilt, everything that had tormented her.

 I’ve done my part, Mía.

The beast’s voice faded slowly, dragging the rest of her feelings with it, until only silence remained.

An emptiness spread within her. She felt nothing anymore. No pain, no anguish, just an unfathomable void now occupying the place of all the emotions that had overwhelmed her moments before.

She rose slowly, feeling light, almost ethereal. There was no turning back. Everything was broken.

With the backpack slung over one shoulder, Mía left the mansion in silence, gliding through the empty hallways like a ghost slipping through shadows. The echo of her footsteps resonated in her empty mind. She was exhausted, emotionally and physically, but above all, she was shattered. She had convinced herself that leaving the mansion was the best, the only thing left to do.

When she arrived at the garage, she didn’t expect to find Logan there. He leaned against Scott’s motorcycle, lighting a cigar while glancing at her, as if he had been waiting for her.

“What are you doing here?” Mia asked sharply, approaching her car.

Logan exhaled smoke slowly, his gaze steady on her, always so calculated, so intense that she felt he was trying to decipher something inside her—something she didn’t even understand herself.

“I could ask you the same,” Logan replied, blowing out another stream of smoke. “Why the rush?”

Mia clenched her jaw, her mind spinning after everything she had just done. She wasn’t ready for this conversation.

“I’m not running,” she snapped, more curtly than she intended, as she reached for the door handle.

Logan watched her in silence for a few moments. His gaze made her uncomfortable, like he could see through her layers, beyond the sarcasm she always used as a shield.

“You’re leaving,” Logan finally said, not asking, but stating it as if he already knew the answer. There was no accusation in his voice, but the weight of his words made her pause.

Mia stopped, gripping her keys tightly, the cold metal pressing against her skin. How did he know? She hadn’t told anyone. She hadn’t given any signs. Well, except maybe Scott. But Scott wouldn’t have said anything. He couldn’t. Not now.

“Sharp observation. What gave it away? The bag or the fact that we’re in a garage and I’m holding my keys?”

Logan didn’t laugh. He wasn’t playing along. He just kept staring at her with those dark, deep-set eyes, like he knew more than he was letting on.

“You know what I mean,” he said softly, but the weight in his voice made her stop again. “You’re not just going for a drive. You’re running. And you’re not planning to come back, are you?”

Mia turned slowly to face him, frowning. How did he know? She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest like a shield. Why did he always have to be so incisive? Why did he have to understand what was happening without her saying a word?

“And if I am?” she asked, raising her chin defiantly. “Why does it matter to you?”

Logan exhaled another puff of cigar smoke, still watching her. His expression didn’t change, but Mia could feel the tension between them.

“I’m not an idiot, Mia. I know that look. Same one I had when I was running. Looking for answers, hoping to make sense of all this mess.”

His words hit her harder than she wanted to admit. She was searching for answers, but what? What did she hope to find out there that she hadn’t already found in her time at the mansion? That was the question eating away at her, and she didn’t have a good answer.

“Turned into quite the philosopher, huh?” she shot back with sarcasm. “Always been this poetic?”

Logan clenched his teeth, sensing the sharp edge in her words, but he didn’t take the bait. Something inside him told him he understood more than she thought. That instinctual pull he’d felt from the first time he saw her, as if their fates were somehow intertwined in ways even he couldn’t explain.

“Relax, will ya? I’m not asking you to explain yourself. You can do whatever you want. You wanna run? Go ahead. But I’ll tell you this: running won’t give you the answers you’re looking for.”

Mia let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.

“Oh, how wise of you, Logan. And what should I do, huh? Stay here? Pretend everything’s fine when I know it’s all a lie? You don’t know me. You don’t know anything.”

Logan stood silent for a moment, his fists clenched at his sides. He couldn’t imagine what was running through her head, but he recognized the anger, the fear of not controlling who you are.

“You’re right. I don’t know you,” he said, his tone low, carrying a dangerous calm. “But I don’t need to know you to see what you’re feeling. The rage, the fear of losing control. I’ve seen it before. Felt it before. And trust me, you’re not as alone as you think.”

Mia looked at him, her eyes full of a mix of confusion and distrust. She didn’t want his sympathy. She didn’t want anyone to try and save her. She was tired of people looking at her like she was about to break.

“I don’t need anyone,” she said coldly, taking a step toward her car. “I don’t need your help.”

Logan growled softly, crushing the cigar under his boot. He took a step closer, closing the distance between them. His presence was overwhelming, and Mia felt her skin prickle with a visceral reaction she couldn’t control.

“It’s not about what you need,” he replied, his voice deeper, more intense now. “It’s about what I choose to do. And I choose not to let you run off into whatever crap you’re about to dive into without backup.”

A knot formed in Mia’s stomach. As much as she hated to admit it, something in the way Logan spoke made her doubt herself. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to do this alone. But she still didn’t understand why he, of all people, would want to come with her.

“What is this, Logan? You wanna be best buddies now? ‘The Grand Adventures of Mia and Logan’? Sounds thrilling.”

Logan’s mouth curved slightly into a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Sarcasm’s great for keeping people out, huh? But it’s not gonna answer either of our questions.”

Mia looked at him, confused, as if she couldn’t quite understand why Logan cared so much. Why did it matter to him? They barely knew each other. There hadn’t been time for anything to form between them, yet… there was something. Something she couldn’t quite place.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked, her tone softer now, more vulnerable. “We don’t know each other, Logan. We’ve barely spoken. Why do you want to come with me?”

Logan stood there in silence, searching for the answer himself. There wasn’t a logical reason. No clear “why” to explain what he felt. But that didn’t make it any less real.

“Why?” he laughed bitterly, stepping closer until she had to tilt her head to look into his eyes. “I’ve got no damn clue why. And that’s what’s driving me insane.”

“I...

“Not finished.” He placed a finger on her lips to silence her, the heat from his touch sending a shiver through her entire body. “I was gonna leave the first day I woke up on that table. Stayed because of Rogue, but she’s fine now. She can handle herself.” Logan’s face twisted in pain as if recalling something unbearable. “I left after we talked in class, after you passed out. But when I got far enough away, something almost tore me apart from the inside. Mia, I’ve been alive for over 200 years, and I’ve never felt anything like it. God, I can heal from anything, but this... I couldn't stop it. It doesn’t make any damn sense, but there it was. When I came back that night and sensed you at the mansion, it disappeared. I could breathe again. And then I knew—it had something to do with you."

Logan’s breath was ragged, his pupils dilated, his breath brushing her face. He looked straight at her, his gaze wild. She had no words.

"And it’s getting worse. Every time you get into my head, I can’t get you out, even after you're gone. I nearly lost it when I saw you writhing in the water at that lake. And I hate it. I hate every damn second of it because even Charles hasn’t explained a thing." He wanted to grab her, feel she was still there while confessing the weight on his chest all this time. "I need answers too. This isn't just about you. There’s something—" He motioned between the narrow space separating them. "—that I can’t ignore. I was gonna leave again today, give it another shot. But then that pain hit me again, like the same one that’s been tearing me apart since you isolated yourself after... after you kissed me."

The memory of what had happened after the lake almost made her dizzy. It was a clear example of how out of control she felt. She had sensed that bond, something pushing her toward him, but not with the intensity Logan described.

"So if I’m going with you, it’s because I need to know why I can’t stay away from someone I barely know."

Mia opened and closed her mouth, gasping for air like a fish out of water. The words got stuck halfway. She felt the urge to do what she’d done with the others—erase what little they had shared to dull that feeling—but the dark beast didn’t come to her aid this time.

She didn’t need its help. She could use her power without tapping into that dark part of herself. But when she tried to summon the tingling sensation that triggered her mutation, she found nothing. Something was blocking her, holding it back.

Not him.

The familiar dark voice sent a chill through her, and she understood—it was her. It was the one stopping herself from reaching her power.

She stepped away from Logan, as if his proximity clouded the little judgment she had left.

"Logan, I..." She took a deep breath, his scent overwhelming her. "The main reason I’m leaving is because I don’t want to hurt anyone. It’s already hard enough to leave people I’ve spent my whole life with. Don’t make me get to know you just to destroy you. I couldn't forgive myself."

"You still don’t get it, do you?"

She blinked, confused once again.

"Mia, I feel physical pain when I’m away from you. You’re right, I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. And no matter how hard I try to make sense of it, I can’t find the answers I need. It’s something beyond my control—I don’t have a choice."

"You can’t be serious. Why now? You’ve lived without me for so long. Do it again."

Logan moved closer, like he couldn’t help it, wanting to maintain that same closeness.

"Something inside me recognizes you, and it’s not letting go. But it’s happening to you too, isn’t it? You struggled to keep control, but now, now you’re really losing it." Mia averted her gaze to the floor, feeling exposed. "If you don’t believe me, go ahead, get in my head." He grabbed her hands and placed them on either side of his head, almost sighing at the comfort of her touch. "Find what I can’t explain."

She tried to pull away, to run, but once again, that sense of losing control over her body consumed her. She couldn’t move, and the torrent of power she had sought earlier now flooded her completely. Her mind slipped into Logan’s with curiosity, and she felt a strange comfort as he let her in, just as before.

The noise of his thoughts overwhelmed her. She tasted confusion, pain. It was a chaos she had to breathe through to organize. Among it all, she found a strand of thought that glowed, drawing her attention. She reached for it, and when she opened it, the flood of sensations nearly drowned her. There it was—the instinct Logan had been trying to describe, the thing that tore at him whenever he even thought about her leaving. The bond moved with a life of its own, and though it had no form or way to communicate directly, it showed her images and emotions that captivated her.

She experienced Logan’s pain herself, like she was being ripped apart. She tried to soften it, to change the feeling, but realized she had no control over it. Something stirred inside her, forming something similar. That wild, dark part of her mirrored what she found in Logan. When the thought of leaving alone crossed her mind again, a dull ache suffocated her. She gasped for air, as if it could ease the pain, but it didn’t.

With effort, she pulled away from his mind. Their breaths were uneven. She let her hands drop to her sides, too heavy to lift. The intensity in Logan’s gaze stole her breath.

"The only damn moment I’ve felt peace these past few years was when you kissed me after I pulled you from that lake."

Mia froze, his words hitting her like a physical blow. Her mind was yanked back to that moment—the freezing water, her shaking body, the loss of control that had dragged her under. She remembered it all, but she also knew there had been something else in that darkness. Something that had trapped both of them.

"Logan, that wasn’t real," she said, her voice trembling. "I wasn’t myself."

"I know," he replied quickly. "I know you weren’t. I know that part of you was trying to manipulate me, to use me. But still, Mia..." He paused, searching for the right words. "Still, it was the only moment anything made sense. The only time something in me felt... complete. And I can’t stand that my life now revolves around someone I don’t even know. I can’t be tied to anyone."

"That doesn’t... it doesn’t make sense."

"Neither does having adamantium bones or being able to get into people’s minds, but here we are."

"Logan, I need to do this alone, I need—" She cut herself off suddenly. A sharp pain tore through her chest, and she doubled over to ease it. It only subsided when she pushed the idea of leaving him alone away.

"Looks like now you understand what I’ve been talking about." He moved as if to help ease her pain but held back, not wanting to overwhelm her. "This has something to do with our past, with the shit they did to us in that lab. Maybe they have the answers."

"The answers?"

"To stop this madness. So we can both go our separate ways."

Those words cut deep. A wave of sorrow and disappointment crashed over her. Logan wanted to leave her. Confusion spread through her mind. Why did she feel sadness? She shouldn’t care.

"Yeah, you’re right. The sooner we get answers, the sooner we can be rid of each other."

Another pang hit her, and when she looked at Logan, she saw something dark, almost like pain, in his eyes. But she pushed the thought aside. Whatever was pulling them together, it wasn’t real. There couldn’t be anything like sadness between them.

"Then, do what you have to do and we can leave as soon as possible."

She knew he meant saying goodbyes, making arrangements, but she had already dealt with that.

"It’s all taken care of."

Logan’s gaze burned into her back. His eyes were full of confusion, but he didn’t ask for an explanation. They’d had enough revelations for one day. The silence between them was thick, heavy with unspoken emotions. Both knew this was a point of no return.

[glamdringwlv]

Unchain my heart: Part 6. Thunderstruck.

Unchain my heart series. Logan Howlett x oc!fmale Summary: Mia Green has grown up in a lab, subjected to numerous experiments due to her status as a mutant. When she manages to escape, Charles Xavier takes her in at his mansion, giving her a new life and helping her regain her memories. However, the arrival of a new resident at the mansion threatens to destabilize everything she believed.

Warnings: Violence, foul language, a mix of various canons, X-Men movies, X-Men animated series, X-men comics.

Mia sat in silence at the edge of the bed, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the sheets as her mind struggled to impose order on the chaos swirling inside her. Some days, the noise in her head felt overwhelming, like a storm of thoughts she couldn't silence. But it wasn't the noise that scared her most. No, what truly terrified her was the silence—the loneliness that crept in more often, as if, despite being surrounded by people, she was utterly alone.

Memories of the past few weeks flooded her mind. Waking up amidst shattered ice, frozen and terrified, completely out of control. The beast within her had emerged once again. And even though Logan had been there to pull her from the water, what happened afterward left her with an unshakeable sense that something was deeply wrong, something broken inside her. Since then, she had distanced herself from everyone, believing that perhaps isolation would keep her safe; if she could just hold it together, everything would be fine.

But it wasn't fine. Fear consumed her—not just for what she could do to others, but for what she was doing to herself. That monster inside her wouldn't leave; it lingered, waiting for a crack in her control. It was a constant battle to stay whole, to resist the wild power that grew stronger and more demanding each day.

Then, almost instinctively, her thoughts drifted to Logan. To that night when she had woken in his arms, feeling for a fleeting moment something beyond the chaos. There was something about him that calmed her, while simultaneously stirring something primal within her. A warmth that made her want to curl up closer, to bask in his presence. The beast within her purred at the mere thought of him, deepening her confusion. He had tried to reach out since that night, but every time he did, Mia built higher walls—barriers she felt were necessary but didn’t want to maintain. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down, not when she didn’t even understand what was happening in her own mind.

Logan was a threat to the control she so desperately craved, a temptation she feared would consume her entirely if she allowed it. Yet every time she thought of him, that inner monster stirred—not with violence, but with a curious blend of calm and desire, as if acknowledging his presence granted her a temporary reprieve from the internal war she fought.

If Logan was a challenge, Scott was an open wound. She had loved Scott for so long that sometimes she couldn’t remember what it felt like to not love him. Her love for him had been a constant, a certainty in a world filled with doubts. But lately… lately, everything she felt for him had become tainted. The trust she once had in him had crumbled, little by little. His inability to understand her turmoil, his blind obedience to Charles, his tendency to control everything without seeing what she truly needed—these things gnawed at the love she had felt, replacing it with doubts, resentment, and a deepening sadness with each passing day.

She knew she wasn’t being fair to Scott. He was trying to reach her, wanting to understand her. She could feel him—his constant presence lingering at her door, waiting for her to let him in, for the moment she was ready to talk. But each time she sensed him there, Mia curled further inward, unable to open up, unable to share what was really happening. And even though she knew she was hurting Scott, she couldn’t find a way to reconnect, to trust him again as she once had.

Some nights, Scott stood outside her door for hours, and though her mind screamed at her to simply lift her hand and open it, to let him in, she couldn’t. Fear paralyzed her. Fear of what he would see in her, fear that he might not be able to bear the truth of what was happening inside her head, inside her heart. Fear that once he saw her, he would realize that the person he loved was no longer there.

Mia shut her eyes, battling the whirlwind of emotions within her. It was a mix of loneliness, fear, and despair that left her drained. She couldn’t continue like this, avoiding everyone, building walls so high that she couldn’t see over them. But at the same time, she didn’t know how to stop it. Some days, she didn’t even recognize herself.

Yet something compelled her to break free from her isolation. One morning, while returning from class, she passed by the command room and overheard the team discussing details of a new mission. They were talking about an operation that even involved Logan, the newcomer they still didn’t fully trust.

She froze when it hit her. They weren’t going to include her. Mia knew why; she understood Charles was worried about her lack of control, the constant fear she had acknowledged. But that didn’t lessen the pain. In that moment, a torrent of emotions surged in her chest: loneliness, fear, and a growing sense of injustice. The best version of herself, the only one she still recognized, was found in the missions. But now, they had taken that from her too.

She considered throwing a fit, storming into Charles’ office like the time she had confronted Logan in the danger room. That dark part of her roared with pride, pulling her in that direction. She would let the professor know just how furious she was, how wrong he was to think of her as a ticking time bomb ready to explode…

She stopped short, just a few steps from her destination, and that inner turmoil stirred anxiously. No, that was exactly what she shouldn’t do. That was why they hadn’t included her—her lack of control. She took a few deep breaths, counting backward and chaining that angry thought back down inside her. She had to handle this right, carefully.

Turning on her heels, she returned to her room and carefully pulled out her suit. She examined it slowly. It was strange that even her outfit didn’t remind her of the new version of herself. She ran her fingertips over the material, praying it wouldn’t short out if she decided to use her new mutation.

With determined steps, she made her way to the hangar, refusing to stop when silence suddenly fell over the room. The conversation among the mutants faded to a hushed whisper as they saw her appear. She felt the weight of their gazes, but she pressed on. She brushed past Scott, ready to board the jet, but a hand clamped around her wrist, stopping her. She suppressed the urge to electrify the air around her to shake off the restriction that contact brought. Softening her gaze, she turned to face Scott’s visor.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his voice tight, clearly annoyed.

Mia shrugged, feigning indifference, placing her hand over his. The contact didn’t send the tingling she expected; instead, she felt nothing but his warmth.

“To the mission. This is my jet, and I’m the only one flying it.”

She yanked her wrist away. Scott frowned, his lips pressing into a thin line. For weeks, he had tried to talk to her, but Mia had ignored him. Now, she suddenly appeared as if nothing was wrong, ready to board the jet without consulting anyone. The silence that hung between them only intensified the tension.

“Mia, you don’t even know the mission details.”

Without looking at him, she kept walking, her mind already set on her goal. No one was going to stop her. Not today.

“Oh, really?” she shot back, sarcasm lacing her words as she continued forward. “What are you waiting for? Spill the details, boss.”

That nickname. Mia had given it to tease him, using it only when they were in good mood. This time, it was laced with irony, and it struck him in the chest. Scott clenched his jaw, visibly upset. It was clear he didn’t want to argue in front of others, but her words had cut deep.

From a corner, Logan watched the scene in silence. His instinct told him not to intervene, though he felt a mix of relief and concern at seeing her. After so many failed attempts to connect with her, to understand what was going on, she was finally here. And though he wouldn’t say it aloud, something within him stirred at the sight of her showing that strength. The memory of holding her broken in his arms still haunted him.

Mia climbed aboard the jet, settling into the pilot’s seat, adjusting the controls with the ease of someone born to be there. She completely ignored Scott's persistent gaze, knowing he wouldn’t give up trying to talk her down. As she focused on the controls, she sensed someone else approaching.

“Mia, maybe Scott has a point. You can’t just dive into a mission without knowing the details. You haven’t even been to the briefings.” Jean’s voice came from beside her as she settled into the co-pilot seat.

A knot formed in her throat, and she swallowed it down. She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and turned to her friend.

“Hey, who says I don’t know them?”

Her mask nearly shattered at that assertion. She was on the verge of conceding and agreeing with her teammates, but a flicker of Logan’s thoughts broke through the noise. Maybe he was searching for her. No, that was impossible. She wasn’t even sure anyone could do that; it had to be a feeling that intensified as he stepped onto the vehicle. When she caught his gaze, it softened for a moment, and she decided to take a chance. She opened her mind, colliding with the swirl of thoughts and emotions that drew her in like a moth to a flame. She extended her consciousness and brushed against his in a subtle movement.

Can I? She asked silently, almost timidly. Instead of resisting like before, Logan’s mind seemed to yield to her touch, granting the permission she sought. She dove deep into it, and the mutant drew a sharp breath as he felt that familiar presence wash over him. Mia didn’t want to pry, so she patiently waited for him to share what he chose.

Logan wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but he brought to the forefront everything they had discussed in the command room, and a wave of gratitude flooded him. He wanted to reach out and grip the walls of the jet to steady himself, but that would betray him. He dug his heels into the floor and waited for her to finish exploring the information.

An unspoken question lingered in his mind, a trace of doubt. Why are you helping me? At first, he didn’t know, but his thoughts drifted back to the days he spent outside her door, hand poised to knock yet never doing so. He had wanted to connect for so long, and now the opportunity was right there. Mia sensed that flicker of emotion, and for a moment, she nearly withdrew from the comforting space that felt like home. Logan felt her presence more strongly now, and his chest swelled with an emotion he couldn’t quite identify. But those weren’t his feelings—they belonged to the woman who moved through his mind as if she were part of it.

When the connection broke, their eyes met briefly. Logan stood in his corner of the ship, watching silently. No words were exchanged.

“Mia, this is for your own good. You haven’t been yourself lately…” Scott began.

“I have everything I need, Scott,” she replied coldly, not bothering to elaborate.

“What the hell…?” he started to say, but his gaze shifted to Logan, who was watching her with renewed intensity. Feeling Cyclops’ stare, he held it and shrugged with a hint of a smile.

“Leave her be, Summers. Looks like we’ve got a pilot.”

Without wasting another moment, Mia powered up the engines. The deep roar of the jet filled the hangar, and the control panel lights began to flicker on. She was ready for takeoff.

“Buckle up, everyone. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.” She couldn’t hide the excitement in her voice. She felt in control at last.

The flight was swift, and before they could brace themselves mentally, the landscape beneath the jet began to change. They were heading toward a base created by a group of unstable mutants fleeing their pursuers. The team had been sent to intercept them before the government or Magneto could reach them.

As the jet approached the landing zone, Scott broke the silence. “We’ll split up to cover more ground. Jean and Ororo, you go south. Logan and I will take the front. Mia, stay in the jet until we’ve secured the area.”

“Are we partners now, Summers?” Logan scoffed.

“Seriously?” Mia replied with a sarcastic tone, barely glancing away from the controls, her irritation evident. “You’re leaving me out?”

Scott didn’t hide his frustration. “We need someone in the jet in case things go south. Besides, someone has to monitor everything from here.”

Mia pressed her lips together, feeling anger simmering in her chest. For weeks, she had been trying to control her powers, that dark side pulsing within her, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Now, with Scott treating her like a rookie, her rage grew faster than she could contain.

“I’m not a child, Scott. I don’t need you to protect me.” She shot him a look loaded with frustration. “I’m here to help, just like you.”

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, okay?”

She opened her mouth to argue, ready to unleash a torrent of retorts, but instead, she smiled broadly. “Sure thing, boss. Whatever you say.”

The jet fell into a tense silence once everyone else left. Mia sat in the cockpit, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the controls, trying not to let the irritation bubbling inside her take over. Scott had relegated her to a mere spectator, as if she couldn’t handle a mission. A part of her knew he had a point, given her recent struggles with control, but another part—the stronger, more frustrated side—refused to accept that.

“Staying in the jet? Ridiculous,” she thought, grinding her teeth. “I could be helping, not just sitting here doing nothing.”

She huffed, running her hands through her hair as she watched the radar tracking her teammates moving across the map. For the first few minutes, everything seemed normal. Jean, Ororo, Scott, and Logan were making steady progress. After a while, two points—Scott’s and Logan’s—went still. She waited and tried to reach out to them, but there was no response.

Mia frowned, typing away at the jet’s console, trying to gather more information. Jean and Ororo continued on, but something felt off with the other two. Her suspicion sharpened. Scott and Logan were still, not moving an inch.

“This isn’t right…” she muttered to herself, her frown deepening.

Before long, concern took hold. She wasn’t going to wait any longer. Her fingers danced over the controls, adjusting the navigation system to track her teammates' signal. If something had happened, she wasn’t about to sit idly by.

Wandering through the forest, she stumbled upon a scene that left her stunned. The two mutants were seated under a tree, chained to it, each facing a different direction. Both looked unconscious.

Who the hell could do something like this?

“What do we have here? Come to see me, gorgeous?”

Mia closed her eyes, wishing it wasn’t real. When she turned, she faced one of her worst nightmares—not because he was a great foe.

“Juggernaut!” she feigned a wide grin as if genuinely pleased to see him. “What a coincidence, is this your hiking route too?”

“Always so funny, doll. It was your sense of humor that drew me in at first. Then, of course, your ass,” he replied.

“Stop, you’re going to make me blush. What about you? New haircut?” Mia gestured to the helmet covering his massive head, likely blocking her from entering his mind.

“Like it? I designed it just for you. No more mind games.”

Mia smiled again. “It looks great.”

“And what? Here to save your little friends, Mia? I still don’t get what you see in that one-eyed loser. With me, you’d have a real mutant on your side.”

“I have a soft spot for lost causes, darling.”

Just then, Scott began to regain consciousness, followed by Logan. Both tried to sit up, still dazed. Juggernaut sneered at them before turning back to Mia.

“You might want to reconsider Magneto’s offer. We could be on the same team.”

“Magneto wants me at his side?” Mia let the irony drip from her words. “How flattering. But tell me, Juggernaut, what fun would it be if we didn’t meet like this?”

Mia sensed her teammates shaking off their grogginess and decided to distract the mutant while they got free.

“I’m just saying, all that saving humanity stuff can wear anyone out. We’d be unstoppable.”

“And we’d end up with some freakishly confusing kids.”

For a moment, Juggernaut’s mind drifted to the possibility Mia suggested, and she realized she didn’t need her powers to bewilder him.

Logan and Scott had freed themselves from their chains and now stood defensively, flanking her.

“Can you tell me how you got caught by this idiot?” she asked through clenched teeth, keeping her eyes on the mutant, who now regarded them as if he wanted to charge them all at once.

“He’s a damn animal. I scratched him with my claws, and Cyclops here didn’t have time to use his visor before he got knocked out cold.”

“I was trying to keep him away from the other mutants,” Scott shot back.

“I couldn’t care less about that. This guy’s a moron, and we need to take him down.”

“Any ideas, bub?”

Mía’s mind raced as she searched for a solution. That’s when a dormant part of her began to stir, tugging at the chains she had placed to hold it back. If only she could harness her electricity the way she did when she lost control… Talking directly to that inner self felt almost insane.

“f I set you free, will you promise not to wreck everything in your path?

Silence followed, interrupted only by a subtle nudge from deep within.

If you lose control and things go wrong, more people will get hurt. Scott…

The beast inside her seemed to yawn lazily, as if that fact didn’t faze it at all.

Logan…

She felt a surge of tension at the thought of him, and that part of her twisted restlessly. Taking it as a yes, she summoned forth her darker side. The air crackled with electricity, an imperceptible hum coursing through her. Logan looked at her with curiosity, recognizing a spark in her eyes—the same one he had seen the night she fell into the lake, and again when she kissed him in her room.

“If you think you stand a chance against me, you clearly don’t know me yet, sweetheart.”

Mía grinned widely, sending a shiver down Scott’s spine.

“Tell me, big guy, how does that pretty helmet of yours hold up against a little electricity?”

He didn’t respond; he was puzzled by the girl’s words. But when he caught her smile, he couldn’t help but grin back.

“Kitty,” she whispered, using that nickname she knew irked him. “Do you trust me?”

For a brief moment, Logan hesitated, caught off guard by both the nickname and the situation. But then he nodded. His instincts told him that even if he didn’t fully grasp Mia’s plan, he needed to play along.

Scott watched the exchange, bewildered, unable to decipher what was happening between them. The implicit trust Logan showed toward Mia unsettled him deeply.

She stepped closer to Logan, her gaze locked onto him for a moment before swinging back to Juggernaut, whose arrogant grin remained firmly in place.

“Let me see those claws,” she commanded Logan, offering no further explanation.

Juggernaut laughed, brimming with his usual overconfidence.

“Do you really think those toothpicks are going to do anything to me? You won’t even scratch me with that.”

“Now”

Logan wasted no time. With a low growl, he lunged at Juggernaut, who, believing his helmet and strength were impenetrable, didn’t even flinch. What he didn’t realize was that Mía was waiting for this moment.

As Logan’s claws sank into Juggernaut, Mía unleashed just a fraction of her inner beast, enough to envelop Logan’s claws in a controlled electric surge, carefully preventing any current from hitting his own body. The air around them buzzed as the energy surged into Juggernaut’s frame. It sought an exit, but Mía directed it through his body and into his head, concentrating it there. The helmet acted like a bunker, trapping the electricity in the mutant's brain until he collapsed to the ground, convulsing violently from the shock coursing through his system.

Logan straightened up quickly, claws still extended, looking at Mía with disbelief.

“You had that under control, right?” he asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.

Mía, with a mischievous grin still plastered on her face, shot him a nonchalant look.

“The truth… I wasn’t sure. I was trying something new.”

Logan stared at her, unsure whether to be angry or amused. He rubbed his face, clearly relieved that the plan had worked but still surprised by how Mía had handled everything.

Scott, watching from a distance, stepped forward, still unsure how to react. He knew Mía had saved the day, but the way she did it—and her evident connection with Logan—gnawed at him.

“You were trying something new?” he echoed, his voice sharp. “Do you even realize what you just did, Mía? You could have… lost control.”

She met his gaze without an immediate reply, her eyes still shimmering with the residual electricity she had released. She sensed Scott’s anger wasn’t just about how she defeated Juggernaut; it was laced with concern and a profound sense of helplessness. But at that moment, she felt a wave of satisfaction for having harnessed the very power that had tormented her in recent days.

“I had it under control,” she shrugged. “For the first time in weeks, I managed the situation.”

Logan, still observing from his spot, felt happiness radiating from her, and for a moment, he didn’t want anything to diminish that feeling.

“Chill out, Summers,” Logan said, stepping between them, his tone deep and calm yet tinged with mockery. “The girl did good. Juggernaut’s out, right? Isn’t that what we wanted?”

Scott turned to Logan, his gaze icy, almost disdainful.

“This isn’t a game, Logan,” he retorted. “It’s not about who takes down whom. You don’t understand what’s at stake here.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly irritated by the implication.

“And you do?” he shot back, stepping closer, the tension between them palpable.

Mía watched in silence, her eyes darting between the two. The atmosphere crackled with tension, and while her instincts urged her to intervene, a part of her wanted to see how far the confrontation would go.

“Enough, both of you,” she finally interjected, stepping forward with a firm tone. “I’m not some damn ball for you to fight over.”

Logan and Scott stopped, both looking at her, surprised by the strength of her words.

“Scott, I get that you’re worried, but I don’t need you hovering over me at every turn. And Logan…” She turned to him, her expression softening slightly, but still firm. “You don’t have to defend me. I can take care of myself.”

Logan gritted his teeth but nodded, crossing his arms in resignation. Scott, looking confused, seemed unsure how to handle the situation. Finally, he broke the silence.

“It’s not just about the fight, Mía,” he said, his tone quieter, almost defeated. “It’s about you. You haven’t been the same for weeks. I don’t know how to reach you. I don’t even know if you want me to try.”

“This isn’t the time or place for this conversation, Scott. You know that.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken feelings and decisions yet to be made. Logan watched them both, feeling the weight of the moment, but unsure how to intervene.

Finally, Mía turned away from Scott and headed for the jet.

“Let’s go,” she said, her voice resolute. “We need to move.”

Both men followed her in silence. When they reached the jet, Storm and Jean were already there, ushering in a visibly shaken group of mutants. The tension in the air was palpable, and Mía sensed it was charged not just with the electricity she controlled, but with the latent fear of those they had come to help.

Jean frowned slightly as she noticed Mía approaching with Scott and Logan. She didn’t say anything, but her expression was enough to tell Mía something was off. Storm, meanwhile, seemed more focused on maintaining calm among the new mutants, her gaze fixed on the sky as if trying to control something beyond their immediate surroundings.

“We had a hard time convincing them to board,” Jean finally broke the silence. “They think we’re here to trap them, not help.”

Mía nodded slowly, her mind already shifting into operational mode. Scott boarded the jet first, beginning to prepare for takeoff, while Logan helped the mutants, who still cast wary glances at everyone around them.

“Any sign of Magneto?” Mía asked, approaching Storm, who was watching her with a scrutinizing look.

“Not yet, but Jean has detected something… strange. Energies we can’t fully identify.” Storm’s tone was serious, though her gaze softened slightly. “We should move quickly. I don’t want to risk staying here longer than necessary.”

Mía agreed. With each passing second, she felt a mounting pressure in her chest, as if something was about to break free, both outside and within her. The electricity she had unleashed against Juggernaut kept her alert, like a wild power inside her waiting for another opportunity to erupt.

One by one, the mutants boarded, some still trembling, others casting wary glances, but all clearly exhausted from fear and uncertainty. Once everyone was on board, Mía headed for the cockpit. She knew Scott was upset and that Logan was monitoring her every move, but there was no time to deal with that now.

“How soon can we get out of here?” Jean asked, approaching the cockpit with her arms crossed. She had been mentally calming the new mutants throughout the journey, and Mía could see the weariness etched on her face.

“We’re ready,” Mía replied, firing up the engines. “We just need to take off.”

“Do it,” Scott commanded from his seat.

Without another word, Mía initiated the jet's launch. The roar of the engines filled the air as the craft began to lift off the ground. As they flew, she could feel Scott’s and Logan’s gazes on her, but she chose to ignore them, focusing on what lay ahead.

[glamdringwlv]

Unchain my heart: Part 5. Lose control.

Unchain my heart series. Logan Howlett x oc!fmale Summary: Mia Green has grown up in a lab, subjected to numerous experiments due to her status as a mutant. When she manages to escape, Charles Xavier takes her in at his mansion, giving her a new life and helping her regain her memories. However, the arrival of a new resident at the mansion threatens to destabilize everything she believed.

Warnings: Violence, foul language, a mix of various canons, X-Men movies, X-Men animated series, X-men comics.

When she returned to her room, it felt empty. Everything she had just seen, the man's words... it all echoed in the walls of her battered mind.

She was still damp, though the warmth from the fireplace and Logan had shielded her from the cold of the lake. The warmth from Logan. She hugged herself, trying to comfort the pain of not being in contact with him. It had been his presence that pulled her out of that whirlwind of anguish and pain.

Her head throbbed, and she could still feel the ghost of electrical impulses at her fingertips. With a heavy heart, she dragged herself toward the bathroom connected to her room, but when she touched the doorknob, the rustling of the sheets stopped her.

She felt selfish for not wanting to face what was coming, but she didn’t have the strength.

“Oh God, Mia, what happened to you?”

She didn’t turn around; she only glanced over her shoulder as Scott got out of bed, hurrying toward her.

“Nothing, I was sleepwalking and ended up in the lake, that’s all.”

“The lake? What…”

She squeezed her eyes shut as he grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. A thought flashed through her mind. I’m tired of not being able to see what’s in your eyes. She pushed it away immediately, because it wasn’t fair to him.

“I just need a hot shower, Scott. I’m exhausted.”

“Mia, you can’t show up soaking wet and expect me not to worry.”

She raised her hands to put distance between them and saw his face contort in pain. She knew she was pushing him away, and her actions were creating an abyss between them.

“I’m really fine. Logan helped me out of the water, so he’s…”

“Logan?” His voice turned cold, distant. “What the hell was he doing there with you?”

Saving me from myself while you didn’t even notice I was gone. She bit her tongue, not wanting to say it, but she couldn’t stop.

“He saw me leave the house, and when I didn’t answer his calls, he got worried.”

“Worried?” The venom in Scott’s words made her frown. She didn’t know where this was coming from. He crossed his arms, and a look of disbelief spread across his face.

Mia rubbed her forehead, trying to ease the pounding headache that was making it hard to be more understanding with her partner.

“Scott, I can’t deal with this right now. I don’t have the energy. Please. I’ll deal with your jealousy tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line when she realized what she had said. She had no control over her words and didn’t understand where this bitterness was coming from. He just wants to understand and help.

“My jealousy… Sorry I don’t understand what’s happening. This guy shows up, confronts you in your classroom, and then turns up saving you when you’re fainting and pulling you out of frozen lakes. Mia, you don’t even know him. What’s going on?”

She felt weak for a moment as the truth in his words hit her. Tears filled her eyes, and she felt foolish for wanting to cry while arguing with someone she cared about. The silence that followed her words was worse than any shout. In that emptiness, everything was falling apart. And when she finally found her voice, it was broken.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me. And it terrifies me.” She struggled to find the words to describe what she was feeling. “There’s something… inside me that isn’t right, Scott. I can’t control it, I can’t rein it in, and I’m afraid it’ll come out and destroy everything.”

Scott’s features softened, and he tried to reach out to her, but she recoiled, as if fearing her own pain was contagious. She saw something break in his eyes.

“I’ve tried to tell you, to explain that I’m not myself anymore and that Charles isn’t giving me answers, and your stance was to defend him. You didn’t even consider that I might be right.” The dam holding back her tears broke, and she began to sob, hurt. “I tried to come to you, and you downplayed it.”

Scott’s face darkened again.

“Mia, I didn’t downplay it. I just said you had no reason to distrust Charles. He’s never given you one. But you throw yourself into the arms of a stranger.”

The mutant’s frustration caused the lights in the room to flicker. Inside her, a surge of anger and rage ignited, feeding her wilder side, the one that had shattered the lake ice in a burst of power. She felt the atmosphere grow heavy and the ghost of energy in her limbs.

“You’re an idiot, Scott. You’ve always been the Professor’s lapdog. You’ve never even considered disobeying him. ‘Cyclops, do this,’ ‘Summers, handle that,’ ‘Scott, keep the broken girl occupied.’”

“What? Mia, Charles never told me… What I feel for you is real.”

She knew it was true and that she was being cruel to him, but she couldn’t stop. Once again, she had lost control that night.

“If I’ve thrown myself into someone else’s arms, it’s because they didn’t treat me like a damn broken toy. Like something to be cared for and manipulated carefully for fear of it breaking. Scott, I’m not who you thought I was.”

The lights flickered again, and he tried to approach her, but he stepped back when he felt a small shock pass through him.

“We’ll fix this, we’ll find the answer, together. Just like always, okay?”

She wanted to say yes, to stop everything and hug him. She really wanted to trust his words. But the one now trying to break free was her, seeing everything from within, unable to access her body. The beast had taken control and was trying to spread the same pain she felt. She pounded against the wall that held her back but couldn’t return.

“There’s nothing to fix, Scott. I’m not the person you fell in love with anymore.”

“Mia, you’re always going to be that person, no matter what. I don’t understand how everything changed in less than two days, how…”

He saw her eyes light up with an unnatural color, and the words died in his mouth. He somehow knew he was no longer speaking to his girlfriend, that something else had taken her place.

“It didn’t change in just two days, and you thinking that proves me right.” Small flashes of light streaked across her body, wild and uncontrolled. “I’ve always been holding back who I really am to fit into the image you’ve designed for me, but I’m tired of feeling weak.”

He couldn’t respond, unable to find the words to bring her back, to ease her pain.

“Because you think I’m weak, don’t you, Scott? Always being a half-person, always exhausted from keeping part of myself locked away, away from everything so I don’t hurt anyone. Fainting at the slightest provocation because I don’t have the energy to be who I am.”

He extended a hand toward her and wanted to pull back, though she didn’t. Despite everything, he still believed the girl he loved would never hurt him.

“Well, I’m going to show you just a tiny part of what I feel.”

He sensed Mia’s presence in his head. Raw, wild, and damaging. He clutched his head as if trying to soothe the pulsing pain it was causing, and when he finally let it in, the air tasted of fear. His breath caught when terror and confusion struck him. He felt a bubble of anguish in his chest threatening to burst and destroy everything in its path. And beneath it all, an overwhelming sense of loneliness. He fell to his knees in front of her, and tears he couldn’t hold back appeared beneath his glasses.

Mia thrashed within her own mind. She hammered against the mental barrier trapping her and with one final push, she emerged into the light. She immediately cut off the connection with Scott and knelt with him on the floor. Gently, she hugged him and let the spasms of her crying overtake her. With mechanical movements, the mutant wrapped her arms around him, still in shock from what she had felt.

“I had no idea…”

She shook her head, not wanting him to say anything. She clung to him, but didn’t find the peace she had found in other arms. She remained a whirlwind of fury and pain but swallowed it.

“I’m so sorry, Scott. I can’t… I’m not able to… Not anymore.”

He nodded, trying to understand what had happened in such a short time. A clear name appeared in his mind, the one responsible for all the unleashed chaos. Logan.

The room fell silent after Mia’s words, her apology’s echo hanging in the air like a heavy presence. They both remained motionless, her on her knees in front of him, Scott still holding her as if that physical contact could mend what was broken between them. But the electricity in the atmosphere made it impossible.

Mía was frozen, every fiber of her body trembling with a mix of exhaustion and regret. But beneath that wall of emotions, she felt something else: an abyss, dark and unknown, a growing chasm between who she was and what she was meant to be. She knew there was no turning back.

Scott was the first to move. He rose slowly, loosening his grip on her and stepping away. The weight of disappointment was unmistakable on his face, despite his attempts to mask it behind his usual firmness. He didn’t say a word as he took a step back, and she felt the coldness seep into the space where his warmth had been.

He took a deep breath, as if searching for strength to continue. Then he spoke, his voice tense and barely controlled.

“I don’t understand what’s happened to you, Mía. I don’t recognize you anymore…” His voice trembled, frustration and pain struggling to break through. “I thought we were in this together, that we could get through anything. But every day you seem further away. And now…” Silence enveloped him, unable to finish the sentence. He turned completely, facing away from her, as if he couldn’t bear to face her any longer.

She watched him in silence, knowing that any words she said would only make things worse. She had come too far to turn back, and though a part of her wanted to scream at him not to leave, another part knew this was the end. She couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when her inner world was falling apart. She had lost him, and with him, she had lost a part of herself.

“I need time, Scott. I need to find out who I am… before it’s too late.” Her voice came out in a whisper, almost imperceptible, but the words were final. She knew there was no going back.

He nodded, though he didn’t look at her.

“Find out who you are in Logan’s arms,” he replied finally, his voice now empty, lacking the warmth it used to have. “Maybe you need to separate from me so the guilt doesn’t eat you up inside.”

Mía felt her heart sink at his words, but she said nothing more. The distance between them had grown too great, and she didn’t know how to bridge it. He stood still for a moment longer before walking toward the door. He paused at the threshold, his hand on the doorknob, and turned his head slightly, as if about to say something. But the words never came. Instead, he left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click, leaving Mía alone in the dim light.

The silence that followed was deafening. The weight of solitude pressed down on her like a leaden slab, crushing her. She tried to hold back her tears, but the tension and sadness overwhelmed her. She sobbed, letting her body shake under the pressure of everything she had been holding back. But the tears didn’t last long; there was something deeper that tears couldn’t heal.

The flickering of the lights returned, a constant reminder of her inability to control what was happening inside her. Sparks flew through the air, small discharges racing around the room, mirroring her inner turmoil.

She slowly got up, stumbling towards the window. The view offered a white, cold, empty landscape, just like how she felt inside. She had broken something in her relationship with Scott, she knew, and now she had to face what came next. Her mind turned to Logan. The memory of his warmth, his unyielding presence at the lake, his ability to understand her without even needing words. But even that was uncertain.

The icy wind stirred the bare branches outside the mansion. A shiver ran down her spine. She was tired of feeling incomplete; she wanted to feel as strong as she had at the lake, needed more. She couldn’t stop the feelings that surged in her head and overwhelmed everything. Once again, she saw her world from a third-person perspective, as if her body didn’t belong to her. I’ll find answers, one way or another. There was that wild, raspy voice that she struggled to recognize as her own. She howled a denial, but she couldn’t stop that beast.

She wiped her tears away with a swipe and took a deep breath, feeling the cold from the window giving her strength. With determined steps, she left the room. She walked through the empty hallways of the mansion, her mind focused on one thing. She tracked the minds in the mansion until she found the one she was looking for. That uncontrolled tangle of thoughts that oozed pain. She followed it to its source.

She reached the door leading to the wing where Logan usually stayed. She hesitated for a second before raising her hand and knocking, her other side struggling to regain control. The hollow sound reverberated in the silence, and she waited.

“Come in,” Logan’s deep, gruff voice called from inside.

She entered the room, closing the door behind her without a word. Logan was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, extinguishing his cigarette with a casual gesture. As she walked in, he noticed a change in her posture, in her expression. Mía’s gaze, usually intense but controlled, was now fierce and determined, as if a storm was about to break inside her.

“Let’s get started,” she said, her voice rougher than usual, carrying an urgency that brooked no argument.

She advanced towards him with determination, but inside, the conflict was palpable. The voice of reason ceased to fight for a moment, distracted by the almost magnetic attraction she felt towards him. Her darker side, now governing her thoughts, lulled her in the deepest part of her mind, using the mutant’s presence to silence her. The desire to find answers in Logan’s memories, to dig into his mind, was irresistible. But to do that, she had to envelop him, capture his full attention.

Logan frowned. Something in her tone, in the energy emanating from her, made him hesitate. He stood up, as if trying to assert his presence and regain control of the situation.

“What’s going on, Mía?” he asked, trying to stay firm.

But before he could react, her darker side had already taken control. She gently pushed him onto the bed, straddling him, her legs wrapping around his sides, her body taking possession of his. The closeness, the warmth of her skin, the scent that seemed to envelop everything around him… it all washed over him like an unstoppable wave.

Logan tried to speak, but his words drowned in the tense air. His mind, always alert, began to fade under the weight of the sensations. The touch of her skin, the warmth of her body on his… it was as if, for the first time in a long while, something inside him relaxed. Suddenly, he felt Mía’s presence in his head, persistent. This time, it wasn’t painful, but rather the opposite.

As she delved deeper into his mind, her presence in the space grew more intense. Her essence, her scent, everything that was Mía, amplified in his head, surrounding him completely. Logan began to breathe harder, his body tense. The bond between them was rising to a level he had never experienced with anyone. He didn’t just feel Mía’s mind in his, but also her physical essence, every beat of her heart, every emotion that coursed through her skin.

The scent of rain, an electric buzz in the air, the heat of her presence. He closed his eyes, fighting to stay grounded. What he’d initially felt for her was now mingling with something deeper, a connection that overwhelmed him, something he struggled to handle. He knew he shouldn’t let things progress, but the intensity of what was happening had him on edge.

His muscles tensed; the control he’d always maintained over himself was slipping away with the touch she had begun to trail through his hair. He felt her in every sense, wrapping around him, making the need to touch her unbearable. He couldn’t focus on anything else. Mía’s mind was a storm in his own, and his body was responding to it in a primal, urgent way. It wasn’t just physical attraction; there was something about her calling to him in a way he couldn’t rationalize.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and his self-control was cracking. But beneath all that comfort, something wasn’t right. There was something in the way she looked at him, how her hands rested on his shoulders—it was too... intense. There was more in her eyes than simple attraction. It was a dangerous mix of desire and control.

Logan, confused, let the moment wash over him, but when his thoughts briefly wandered to Scott, something didn’t fit.

“What’s up with Summers?” he asked abruptly, trying to snap back to reality, his words slicing through the silence. It didn’t seem like Mía to be with him like this, at least not while she was still with Scott. But he got no answer. Her gaze darkened, her expression hardened for a moment, as if something inside her had broken. That lack of response made him realize there was more behind this moment.

“Scott?” she finally replied, her voice barely a whisper, running her nails through her hair. She tried to look innocent and almost smiled with satisfaction when she noticed a growl escaping from his throat. She almost had him.

That brief pause was enough for a spark of doubt to ignite in Logan. Something inside him, buried under the layers of sensations Mía had invoked, began to awaken. The question about Scott had started as a casual curiosity, but now, in light of her lack of response, it began to take on a different form in his mind. This wasn’t like her, and for the first time, he started to think that her state wasn’t the result of a simple decision.

The air between them grew thick.

“Mía...” he tried again, this time in a softer tone, trying to reconnect with the part of her he knew.

But she wouldn’t let him finish. She couldn’t lose this battle now, not when she could feel his memories at her fingertips. She leaned in, her lips barely brushing his, and Logan felt the clash of his desires mingled with a darkness that enveloped him. The warm breath on his skin drove him mad, shattering the chains with which he had held back the part of him that had been yearning for her since the first time he touched her in the Danger Room. His body reacted before his mind could sort things out. It was a kiss charged with everything she could offer, a kiss that ensnared him in the same darkness she was falling into.

Logan closed his eyes, letting the emotions engulf him. For a moment, everything felt right. Feeling complete, feeling needed—something he had never fully experienced before. But... there was something else. A bitter aftertaste to it all, as if behind that fullness lay a trap. Anger began to rise from deep within him, but it wasn’t directed at her—it was at what was happening.

Logan struggled to turn his head away, breathing deeply, trying to regain some control.

“This isn’t you, Mía...” he said softly, with that deep yet reassuring voice he always had.

The anger bubbled inside her, tired of people telling her who she should be. For a moment, both versions of her agreed on something—the frustration of being told who to be. She didn’t even know the answer herself; how dared they think they did.

Mía kissed him again, this time with more force, with a passion that came from the depths of her being. She bit his lip with intensity, and Logan had to stifle a groan. He pulled her closer, feeling that the contact between them wasn’t enough. He needed more. The kiss was intense, raw, as if every cell in her body was pouring its desire into him, pushing every boundary.

Through the mental link they shared in that moment, Mía allowed Logan to feel what she was feeling. She wanted him to see her desire, to understand that she wanted him, that this wasn’t just manipulation. But in her haste, in her desperate attempt to distract him, she made a mistake. Unintentionally, she loosened her grip on her rational side, and the girl’s awareness let slip an alert to the mutant, despite the fact that she was enjoying the moment as much as he was. It allowed him to glimpse, even if for a second, that yes, she was using him. That part of her, the part struggling to control everything, saw him as a means to her own ends.

Logan, bewildered by the torrent of emotions and sensations, tried to process it. He felt Mía’s burning desire, but also the cold sting of betrayal. The mix of both shook him, but before he could react, Mía intensified the moment. She used her powers to dig her nails into his back, opening wounds that healed immediately. Logan gasped, enveloped by so many sensations. The blend of pleasure and pain clouded his judgment, and he was on the verge of giving in, of letting his more primal side surface as well.

Finally, with all the willpower he could muster, Logan pulled his face away from hers, breaking the kiss. His breathing was ragged, and his body trembled, still responding to the storm of sensations Mía had unleashed in him. With a low growl, he managed to gently push her back, breaking the physical contact that kept him tethered to her.

“Mía, stop...” His voice was rough, but there was a mix of pleading and determination in it. The look he gave her was intense, a mix of desire and suppressed anger. He couldn’t deny that what she was doing affected him, tempted him, but Logan wasn’t someone who would be dragged along easily.

She looked at him with frustration in her eyes, almost defiant, but there was something more. She knew Logan had seen part of the truth. She knew that, despite her desire, she had let him see her other side, the one that used him for her own ends. And that threw her off balance.

Still trembling, she tried to maintain control over herself, over the situation. She brought a hand to her face, as if trying to remove an invisible mask that was choking her. She wanted to continue, to hold on to that control, but she was now aware of how difficult it was becoming.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice breaking, but her hand trembled as it left his back and stroked her hair. Logan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He knew there was something profound between them, but he also understood that she was torn between her desire and that part of her that controlled her, pushing her to do things she didn’t fully understand.

“You don’t need to do this,” he murmured, placing his hands over hers to stop her. There was no aggression in his gesture, just a firmness indicating that he wouldn’t be dragged along.

The weight of those words fell on them with an intensity he hadn’t expected. She felt his darker side slowly retreating, but not because she wanted it to, but because Logan was demanding it. It was hard to maintain control. It was like an internal current fighting to take over, but every time he looked at him, with eyes full of pain and understanding, something inside her broke a little more.

“It’s easier this way...” she whispered, not sure if she was speaking the truth or just trying to justify what she had done. But the phrase sounded hollow even to her own ears.

“It’s not, Mía.” Logan’s voice was firm, though there was a trace of vulnerability in it. It pained him to see her like this, caught in that internal struggle, and it moved him to want to help her, not just because of the desire he felt, but because of something deeper. A connection that, though he couldn’t explain, he couldn’t ignore.

She finally gave in. She couldn’t keep fighting, not against this. She felt she was losing, not just the internal battle, but something more valuable. The control she had longed for was slipping away, and with it, the darkness that had dominated her every move began to dissipate, slowly, painfully.

Tears started to flow from her eyes before she could stop them. Everything she had tried to hold back was now spilling out. She sobbed uncontrollably, burying her face in Logan’s chest, seeking refuge in the only place she had left.

Logan held her without saying a word. There were no words that could comfort her in that moment, but his warmth, his presence, were enough. He felt Mía’s body shaking, her breathing slowing, until gradually, exhaustion overcame her.

And there, in the mutant’s arms, Mía fell asleep, as he held her close, determined not to let her sink any deeper into the darkness that tormented her so much.

[glamdringwlv]

Unchain my heart: Part 4. Hurt

Unchain my heart series. Logan Howlett x oc!fmale Summary: Mia Green has grown up in a lab, subjected to numerous experiments due to her status as a mutant. When she manages to escape, Charles Xavier takes her in at his mansion, giving her a new life and helping her regain her memories. However, the arrival of a new resident at the mansion threatens to destabilize everything she believed.

Warnings: Violence, foul language, a mix of various canons, X-Men movies, X-Men animated series, X-men comics.

The events of the past few days weighed on Mia like she was carrying a slab of stone on her shoulders. Her body felt as though it was collapsing under the weight, her posture slouching forward. The bitter taste of confusion had taken over everything, and she could hardly savor anything that wasn’t anguish.

When she reached her room that night, she changed clothes sluggishly, like the fabric was drenched and heavier than it should be, sticking to her skin, trapping her. She collapsed onto the bed, a storm raging in her head. The conversation with Logan had reawakened a part of her she’d worked so hard to keep hidden. It used to be easier—when she felt herself losing control, she would lock all those emotions away in a corner of her mind where they couldn’t bother her. But now, the mere thought of calming down seemed impossible with the mutant who’d arrived at the mansion. She didn’t recognize herself anymore, and the sense that her heart no longer belonged to what she had considered her home overwhelmed her.

She felt weak and out of place. Her mind was a whirlwind, only quiet when Logan had held her. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, as if it could somehow relieve the anguish. It didn’t make sense—this man had shown up, doubted her, and then within seconds had uncovered what she’d been hiding for so long. Things that not even her partner had managed to notice.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t realize Scott was there until he wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her close. A lump formed in her throat, and she felt the pressure of a sob that almost broke through. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, trying to convince him she was sound asleep. She felt bad for a moment, but she knew she’d feel worse if she had to face the conversation that was looming between them.

Her mind drifted back to Logan, even with Scott’s warm breath on her ear. That arrogant jerk who had ruined everything. She couldn’t let things spiral out of her control. She had to regain the internal battle she was fighting. But amid all her thoughts, one stood out louder than the rest. I need to remember. And somehow, she had the feeling that Charles wouldn’t help her. A dark, sticky sense of suspicion spread, poisoning the trust and relationship she’d built with him. She fell asleep with that bittersweet feeling lingering in her chest.

When she opened her eyes later, it wasn’t the familiar warmth of her room that greeted her. Nor was it the comforting presence of Scott. The coldness of the space cut to her bones, and the clinical smell of sterilized alcohol made her wrinkle her nose. She sat up on the cot, disoriented, unable to grasp where she was. Outside of Mia’s mind, Scott didn’t notice as she left their bed and slipped out of their shared room.

She found herself trapped in a dream, but it felt too real to be just an illusion. Without questioning it, she stepped into the hallway in front of her, the walls cold concrete. The flickering lights made the silence eerie, and a distant part of her consciousness twisted, as if being there physically hurt. She heard a voice, calling her from the end of the corridor, and without thinking, she followed it, her body moving as if under someone else’s control.

Meanwhile, in the real world, Mia had made her way to the kitchen, lit only by the open fridge. Logan stood in front of it, frowning as he searched for something stronger than cola—something to help him sleep. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he caught the scent of Mia. It was familiar now. Closing the fridge door slowly, he watched her walk toward him with hesitant steps.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” he asked, his voice gruff.

But she didn’t respond. She didn’t even seem to hear him. Something twisted in Logan’s gut. Her silence stirred a feeling of unease and frustration. He wasn’t sure why, but it pissed him off that she was ignoring him. But something more was wrong—he could feel it.

“Hey, look, I know I haven’t exactly been a saint, but I’m still considering that whole ‘getting along’ thing you mentioned...” he started, his voice trailing off as she kept walking, her steps slow but steady.

She left the kitchen without a word, leaving Logan standing there, both offended and concerned. He watched from the doorway as she exited the mansion, barefoot, still in her pajamas. The air around him felt thicker, almost electric—just like the times Mia had been on the verge of losing control. Something was definitely wrong.

In her dream, the cold hallways guided her toward a specific room. She didn’t recognize the place, but deep inside, she felt the weight of danger. A distant echo of terror grew in her chest. Her breathing quickened, though she didn’t understand why she was afraid.

Outside, Logan had called her name multiple times, but she didn’t hear him. He realized she was in some kind of trance, sleepwalking maybe. He stood at the mansion’s entrance, torn about what to do. It wasn’t his problem. This woman had been nothing but trouble for him. But something deep inside tugged at him, like a thread pulling tighter, urging him to follow. With a low growl, he stepped out after her.

Mia reached a heavy metal door, which opened on its own as if it had been waiting for her all along. On the other side, a man in a suit stood in the center of a sterile room, waiting. Fear gripped her throat, her body trembling uncontrollably. She could feel the cold air against her skin, but what scared her more was the sense that something inside her was about to snap.

Logan, following her, watched as she reached the edge of the frozen lake. The air around her crackled with energy. Each step on the ice echoed in the stillness of the night. He knew she wasn’t fully there—her mind was trapped somewhere dark, and he had to snap her out of it before something went terribly wrong.

Back in Mia’s mind, the man smiled, his expression cruel. “Have they figured it out yet?” he asked, and though Mia said nothing, he laughed under his breath. “Mia, you’re not like the other mutants. You’re a wild animal. Our job was to contain you.”

Something inside her screamed for her to run, but she couldn’t move. His words cut through the air like blades, paralyzing her.

“You’re just a failed project. A weapon. It seems the professor’s been keeping you distracted, playing house. But deep down, you know it, Mia. You’ll always be a threat.”

His words flipped a switch inside her, turning fear into something darker, something savage. The energy she had always kept under control began to slip, crackling along her skin. She couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t fight the part of her that was waking up, wild and furious. He was right. She couldn’t escape what she truly was.

Logan watched as she reached the frozen lake, her body trembling violently. The air around her had become a storm of electricity, and each attempt to get closer was met with the sharp sting of static. He could see her struggling, fighting something invisible, but it was tearing her apart.

“Mia, stop. Wake up, dammit!” Logan’s voice roared, but she didn’t respond.

Her pain took over, and the beast within her won, unleashing the chaos she’d held back for so long. A surge of energy erupted from her, shattering the ice beneath her feet. She plunged into the freezing water, her body still releasing uncontrollable electrical discharges that lit up the lake beneath the surface.

The cold should have shocked her awake, but her terror was too strong. Reality blurred with her nightmare. Now, in her mind, she was submerged in a tank, every molecule in her body twisted in agony as the energy surged out of control, draining from every surrounding source.

Logan reached the edge of the lake, where the ice had been completely obliterated. He could see her thrashing beneath the surface, surrounded by a deadly dance of electricity. His sharp senses caught the muffled sound of her screams, full of pain and panic. Something in their connection pulled him toward her, and despite the danger, he dove in after her.

Fighting through the shocks, Logan managed to wrap his arms around her, shielding her as much as he could from the electric surges. The cold bit into his skin, but he ignored it. The real struggle was enduring the waves of memories flooding into him through her energy. He almost faltered—her pain, so similar to his own, made his limbs feel heavy, but he pushed through.

He pulled her from the water, laying her down in the snow. Her eyes opened, but she didn’t seem to recognize the world around her. She was terrified, her mind still trapped in the nightmare. All she could feel was pain and despair, the echo of that man’s voice reminding her of what she truly was.

Logan, still recovering from the flashes of her mind, knelt beside her, trying to help her come back to reality.

“Mia, you’re okay. You’re safe. It’s me, Logan. Just breathe,” he said, his voice rough, his breath shallow, desperate to reach her.

But she was consumed by fear, barely able to hear him. She lay there, trembling, gasping for air, the electricity still crackling across her skin. Though the cold bit at her body, she barely felt it. All she could perceive was a dark void, a mixture of terror and helplessness.

Logan leaned over her, trying to touch her face, but the shock zapped him instantly. He cursed under his breath, but didn’t pull back. His own memories of labs, needles, and cages burned in his mind, mingling with hers.

"Don’t... don’t come closer," she mumbled, her voice barely a broken whisper, her mind still trapped in that prison of distorted memories.

“Mia, listen to me. You’re not alone. I’m right here, and I’m not letting anything happen to you,” he said, his voice low but steady, trying to cut through the fog clouding her mind.

Mia looked at him, but her eyes didn’t really seem to see him. Her shaky hands tried to push him away again, but Logan didn’t budge. Something in him told him that his warmth could pull her back from the abyss she was sinking into, so, with slow and firm movements, he draped his body over hers, shielding her from the freezing wind.

The heat from his skin started to make her feel something real, something other than the chaos swirling in her mind. But fear still lurked inside her, confusing her. Logan’s words echoed in her head, and slowly, a spark of awareness began to push through the shadows.

“I can’t… I don’t know what’s happening,” she said in a broken voice, tears mixing with the snow.

“You’re home, Mia. You’re safe. Let me help,” Logan repeated firmly, wrapping his arms around her, keeping her close so his body heat could soothe her.

Reluctantly, Mia stopped resisting. The warmth radiating from Logan, the steady beat of his heart beneath her, gave her something to hold on to. Her ragged breathing began to calm, though the trembling didn’t stop entirely. She couldn’t fully grasp what had just happened, nor could she remember how she had even ended up here. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent, which slowly brought her back to reality. Even though her body was trying to recover from the hypothermia, it wasn’t happening fast enough. She shook uncontrollably against Logan.

As he noticed the girl coming back to life, he started to pull away, but her hands gripped his arms, trying to hold on to his warmth. He looked down at her; her teeth were chattering, and the tears on her face were freezing into ice. His heart clenched at the sight of her so broken.

"Easy now. I'm gonna stand up and get you outta here, alright?"

Carefully, Logan slipped an arm under her back and the other beneath her knees, lifting her effortlessly. Her weight was light, a stark contrast to the power she had shown, and as he held her close to his chest, he could feel every shiver that ran through her body. He said nothing more—there was no need. The biting wind that slashed across their faces was enough to urge him to move quickly.

He trudged through the snow-covered field, heading toward the mansion with steady steps. As they moved, he felt a pressure in his mind, something that made him want to stop dead in his tracks. When he glanced down at her again, he saw that her eyes were shut tightly, like she was in pain. He wanted to say something, but then all his senses became overwhelmed by her presence—her scent, her voice, everything. He swayed for a second, digging his heels into the ground, trying to regain his composure. Flashing images of corridors, a tank, and a liquid suffocating him ran through his mind. His own breath hitched for a moment, feeling Mia’s panic flow through their connection. The intensity of her memories hit him like an unstoppable wave, stirring forgotten fragments of his own past. For a brief moment, he couldn’t tell if he was reliving his own traumas or hers.

“Mia, you gotta stop, darlin’. You’re not there anymore, I’m takin' you back to the mansion. I can’t think about anything but you, and not in the good way.”

Unconsciously, Mia had flooded into Logan’s mind, unable to stop her telepathic powers. Something inside her was seeking calm, and as she dove into him, she felt at ease. It was as though that space was hers, like it had welcomed her. But his words snapped her back to the present. With a great effort, she severed their connection, seeking solace in the physical contact instead, pressing herself closer to his warmth. She could feel his Adam’s apple bob as he let out a breath, resuming his pace.

Logan carried Mia’s cold body, her icy skin against his, as he walked with firm strides toward the mansion’s main hall. The crackle of the fireplace greeted them when they arrived, and without thinking, Logan sat on the floor in front of the fire. Gently, he positioned Mia between his legs, wrapping his arms around her from behind, cocooning her in his warmth. The cold in her skin began to fade slowly, but Logan didn’t move. He stayed there, holding her close to his chest, waiting for the fire and his body heat to bring her back.

Gradually, Mia began to stir. Her muscles tensed slightly, and her once ragged breathing evened out. Logan felt the subtle movement as she finally opened her eyes, dazed. But before she could say anything, Logan whispered in his low, steady voice, “It’s over.”

Mia blinked, as if his words were pulling her back to reality. Still disoriented, she shifted just enough to look at him, searching for answers. Her mind was racing, recalling the images she had projected into his head.

"I saw you leave the house. You didn’t seem to know where you were. I tried to stop you, but you kept pushin’ me away."

“I’m sorry…” she murmured, her voice shattered.

“You got nothin’ to be sorry for,” Logan replied, keeping his tone firm but understanding. He knew what it was like to be lost in your own demons.

For a few minutes, neither of them said anything. The crackling of the fire and the strong beat of Logan’s heart against her back filled the silence. There was something in the way he held her that made her feel… safe, like she was connected to something larger than herself, something beyond words. She blinked, slowly coming back to her senses. The cold in her limbs was starting to melt away, replaced by the warmth emanating from Logan.

“I saw… things,” she finally said, her voice trembling with confusion. “Memories I don’t understand.”

Logan nodded, keeping her close, his chin lightly brushing the top of her head. His gaze was fixed on the flames, but his mind was elsewhere.

“I know,” he murmured. “What you saw… I’ve been there too.”

Mia tensed slightly in his arms, but Logan didn’t let go. His grip remained firm, protective. The air between them grew thick, charged with a silent understanding.

“I don’t remember my past,” Logan continued. “Just bits and pieces. And some of 'em… they match what you saw.”

Mia’s heart raced. There was something in what Logan said that struck a deep chord within her, like everything was slowly starting to fall into place. The nightmares, the fragmented memories… An idea flashed in her mind, setting the gears in motion that had been stuck for so long. She clutched Logan’s arms tightly to get his attention, and an electric jolt ran between them.

“Logan, if you’d let me into your head…”

She felt his entire body tense around her, uncomfortable with the idea. He shifted in his grip, and with sudden energy, she turned to face him. His brow was furrowed deeply, and droplets of water still dripped from his hair.

“Hear me out before you say anything,” she urged. She could see a flicker of something in his eyes, and a part of him wanted to fan that spark. “I think something more than my amnesia is blocking my memories, maybe Charles has a hand in it.” Her heart twisted at the confession. “But your memories might unlock mine. We clearly have something in common, Logan. Maybe seeing yours will help me unlock mine.”

The mutant looked at her skeptically. He’d experienced Mia pouring her consciousness into his before, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to go through that again.

“Don’t you wanna remember?”

Something in him faltered when he saw the hopelessness in her eyes. Of course, he didn’t want to. What little he’d regained had given him nightmares. But before he could think it through, he was already nodding. He realized that if he did this, he’d be doing it for her. He felt ridiculous acting this way toward a woman he barely knew. God, he had just jumped into a freezing, electrified lake for her. What the hell was happening to him?

Mia bit her lip, trying to suppress the smile of joy, but couldn’t stop herself from throwing her arms around Logan. For the first time in a long while, she felt like someone understood her. She embraced him tightly, and Logan went rigid. Her scent overwhelmed him, and he felt oddly comforted. When she pulled away, Mia pressed a kiss to his cheek, and warmth surged to her face. The brief contact had ignited a storm within her.

“Thank you, Logan. For everything.”

He grunted, unsure of how to respond. The touch of her lips on his skin had left a searing impression, one he was trying to shake off. “Don’t mention it, Bub.” He patted her shoulder awkwardly.

He felt the urge to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her body back against his, but he didn’t. Instead, he stayed on the ground, watching as she got up, her clothes still soaked and her skin pale from the cold.

"I’ll let you know when we’re ready to start." She moved away from him, something that almost felt painful, and before leaving, she turned back.

"And Logan, make sure no one finds out about our plan."

He nodded again, feeling like he couldn’t say no to her if he tried.

[glamdringwlv]

Unchain my heart: Part 3. Heart of glass

Unchain my heart series. Logan Howlett x oc!fmale Summary: Mia Green has grown up in a lab, subjected to numerous experiments due to her status as a mutant. When she manages to escape, Charles Xavier takes her in at his mansion, giving her a new life and helping her regain her memories. However, the arrival of a new resident at the mansion threatens to destabilize everything she believed.

Warnings: Violence, foul language, a mix of various canons, X-Men movies, X-Men animated series, X-men comics.

The door hadn’t even fully closed when Mia was practically standing over Charles.

“What are you hiding from me?” she demanded, her voice firm, though it barely reflected the emotional storm raging inside her.

The professor looked at her seriously, his expression hard and distant, which only fueled her anger. She knew he wouldn’t approve of what had happened in the danger room, but Mia was tired of hearing the same reprimands over and over. “You let your instincts take over. You’ve lost your—”

“Don’t you dare, Charles,” she interrupted, her voice trembling with fury. “Don’t for a second think I’m going to let you twist this situation.”

He stayed silent, observing her with that same serious gaze. He had never seen her like this, so out of control, her brow furrowed continuously, her breathing heavy. Mia stared at him with an intensity she could barely contain. Her mind was spinning in a thousand different directions. Every second that passed made her feel more alone, more vulnerable, though she would never admit it. The respect she had for Charles was eroding with each truth he chose to keep from her.

Mia quickly raised the mental barriers she had trained to keep Charles out, even if only for a moment. She believed what had slipped out from her mind wasn’t his business. She was hesitant to share anything, especially since most of her secrets had already been dissected by him.

“As I was saying, you’ve lost control, something that’s very unlike you.”

She was stunned by the coldness of his response. She wanted to shout at him that it wasn’t unusual for her, that she was always on the verge of breaking, that every second was a battle to keep the chaos inside from taking over. If she didn’t, she feared she’d end up alienating everyone around her, destroying the only home she’d ever known. But she said nothing. Instead, she pressed her lips into a thin line, swallowing the bitter words.

Charles continued, seemingly unaware (or perhaps fully aware) of the pain he was causing.

“Logan will be staying here for a while. I believe Magneto is after him. Try to keep things civil.”

Civil... The word echoed in her mind with irony. How could she be civil with someone like Logan? That mutant was the very opposite of everything she struggled to keep in check. The mere mention of his name sent her mind spiraling back to their confrontation. Her anger flared again.

“He’s the one who didn’t make a civil introduction.”

“Do I need to remind you of your first days at the mansion?” Charles responded, his calmness only infuriating her further.

Memories flooded her mind, uninvited. She saw herself, younger, more fragile, lost, and terrified. The self-imposed isolation, the fear of not knowing who she was, and the pressure of being in a place where everyone expected something from her.

“I was a child who had everything taken from her, even her memories. It’s normal that I behaved that way. What’s his excuse? Does he not like the wallpaper?”

Charles sighed, but his gaze remained firm.

“Mia, don’t be hasty. You shouldn’t judge what you don’t understand. I think you’d be surprised.”

Mia’s heart pounded harder. She knew there was more to Logan’s presence. She had seen it in Charles’s thoughts, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Her head was full of unanswered questions, and the professor refused to give her the explanations she sought.

“Of course I don’t understand,” she replied, her tone sharp. “I don’t understand why you’re hiding things from me. I know he has something to do with me. I saw it in your mind the other day when I was searching for information about my past.”

She almost broke through her train of thought, tempted to delve into the professor’s mind again and demand answers, but that would only prove that, as he believed, she had completely lost control.

“There are things you need to discover on your own. We don’t know the damage it might cause for you to confront your past all at once. If you saw Logan in my thoughts, maybe it’s because, before our training, I was tracking him with Cerebro.”

Mia nodded, though she didn’t fully believe Charles’s words. She wanted to trust him, because he had never let her down before, but deep down, the beast she kept hidden roared with a different opinion. She had no reason to doubt the professor, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that this time, things might be different.

“Now, I ask that you be patient and ensure what happened this morning doesn’t happen again.”

A scoff escaped her lips, disbelief written all over her face.

“I didn’t seek it out. That idiot barged into my class and doubted my abilities without even knowing me. Not to mention he almost sliced my neck open with those forks of his.”

“Mia…”

“No, don’t ‘Mia’ me. I’ll try to keep it together, but that jerk needed a lesson, and I gave it to him.”

She was so furious that she didn’t hear the door open behind her. She only realized they weren’t alone when Charles’s gaze shifted to a point over her shoulder. She closed her eyes for a second, searching for patience, but all she found was a growing sense of betrayal.

“Fotks, huh?”

Logan’s raspy voice filled the room, interrupting her thoughts. The sound of his rough, mocking tone snapped her out of her anger.

“You betrayed me, Charles,” she said, her eyes blazing with fury as she pointed a finger at the professor. She felt that words weren’t enough to express the indignation coursing through her. Then, she crossed her arms tightly, as if trying to contain her own power from exploding right then and there.

You called him. You let me keep talking while he was right behind me.

For his part, Charles remained calm, raising an eyebrow at her unusually childish behavior.

I didn’t get a chance to warn you.

“What the hell is going on here? You know it’s rude to talk about someone when they’re in the room, right?” Logan’s gruff voice cut in.

For the first time since he entered the room, Mia turned to look at him, and the space suddenly felt too small. Her heart skipped a beat, and once again, she felt the need to restrain a part of herself.

“Logan, I called you here to resolve the ‘misunderstanding’ between you and Miss Green.”

“It wasn’t a misunderstanding. It was a full-on plane crash with a thousand casualties.”

“Mia, you’re in an educational setting. Watch your language.”

She rolled her eyes, and her anger surged when she heard Logan laugh at the situation.

“What are you laughing at, Kitty?”

Logan’s expression changed instantly. The laughter vanished from his lips, and fury filled his eyes. She’d struck a nerve. A small part of Mia relished the fact that she had managed to break through his arrogant attitude, but the majority of her knew she was playing with fire.

“Don’t call me that.”

Mia couldn’t resist the challenge forming on her lips. “Or what?”

The sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing from his knuckles filled the room, reverberating in the air like an ominous echo. Mia felt a shiver run down her spine, but it wasn’t fear that consumed her. It was a strange sense of anticipation, a charged tension that made her open her mind, preparing to subdue him again with her power. But just before she could unleash the force pulsing inside her, Charles intervened.

“Enough. This isn’t a schoolyard, and you two are not children. Act your age.”

The authority in Charles’s voice was enough to snap Mia out of her trance. Her breathing was uneven, and she realized she was trembling slightly. She barely recognized herself. She hadn’t allowed her control to slip like this in years.

Logan still stared at her with a mixture of fury and defiance, but he retracted his claws.

“Logan, while you’re here, you’ll abide by the rules and respect the other residents.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Logan rolled his eyes with disdain.

“Mia, you will welcome your new companion just as they welcomed you when you arrived.” She glanced down, feeling ashamed at the scolding. “This place is supposed to be a refuge, a safe space for mutants. We have to rely on each other.”

Neither of them spoke, as if they were both reflecting on the reprimand they had just received.

“Can I go now? I’m not fifteen, professor.”

Charles simply nodded, and both of them listened as the door slammed shut behind him.

Mia’s mind raced as she left the room behind him. She thought about Charles’s words and realized he was right. When she had first arrived, lost and without memory of who she was, Jean and Scott hadn’t taken her attitude seriously. They had welcomed her with open arms and helped her piece herself back together, softening the pain she felt as she considered herself broken.

From afar, she saw Logan walking and quickened her pace to catch up with him. She was about to tap him on the shoulder to get his attention, but Logan’s muscles tensed, and he turned around before she could do anything.

“What now, Bub? Round two?”

“No, Logan. That’s not it. I wanted to talk to you.” She felt nervous, her tongue nearly stumbling over itself, as if it were made of cloth. She motioned toward one of the empty classrooms, and Logan raised an eyebrow at her. "Don’t be an ass, okay? I’m trying to meet you halfway."

He nodded and stepped into the classroom. Mia followed, shutting the door behind her. Logan leaned against one of the small desks, arms crossed over his chest in a defensive stance, like he was already bracing for another argument. His eyes were locked on her, challenging, waiting for her to slip up. She stood in front of him, just a few steps away, unsure of how to begin. The words were in her head, but saying them out loud felt empty, forced. Despite everything that had happened between them, she had to find a way to reach him. But the longer she looked at him, the more she realized she was up against a wall of indifference and mistrust.

"Look, I think Charles is right. This should be a safe space, and we didn’t exactly get off to a great start."

Logan’s face didn’t change. He seemed like he was listening, but he might as well have been miles away. Frustration bubbled up inside her—it felt just like when she gave the safety briefing to the students before they started their field exercises.

"Really? Listen, all this 'saving humanity' crap means nothing to me. I’m only here because Rogue’s safe. I don’t give a damn about your little hippie commune or whatever it is you think you’ve got going here."

"Excuse me?"

Mia blinked, surprised by his bluntness. She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting the urge to snap back. Beneath that cold, distant exterior, she could feel something else. Logan had built walls—huge ones, far taller than hers.

"Mia, I’m no hero. I don’t even want to be one. Nobody’s ever done anything for me, and I don’t get how you guys can run around saving people who treat you like dirt. Don’t try to be something you’re not."

His words hit her hard, like a punch to the chest. He didn’t see what they did at the mansion as a noble cause, not even something worth admiring.

"Logan, no one here is pretending to be anything," she said, trying to keep her growing frustration in check. "I think it’s great you want to look after Rogue, I really do. But we’re all responsible for something bigger than ourselves. I’ve learned that. We’ve all learned that."

Logan looked at her like he wasn’t buying a word she said, and that hurt more than she was willing to admit.

"You know," she confessed, her voice lowering, more serious, "when I got here, I didn’t even know who I was. I couldn’t remember anything—not my name, not where I came from, nothing. All I knew was that something was broken inside me, something I couldn’t fix on my own."

Logan didn’t say anything, but his gaze softened, just a little. It was a subtle change, but Mia noticed it.

"Jean and Scott helped me," she went on. "They showed me this place could be a home, that I didn’t have to be alone. Charles too."

"Ah, yeah, the great Charles Xavier, the saint of all mutants."

Mia frowned, feeling a spark of anger ignite inside her, but she kept calm.

"Look, I’m not saying Charles is perfect. Sometimes he pisses me off too, okay?" she admitted, crossing her arms in a mix of defiance and honesty. "But he saw something in me when I couldn’t see anything. Doesn’t that mean something?"

Logan didn’t respond right away. He just watched her in silence with that intense gaze, the one that seemed to unravel everything she said and didn’t say. Mia felt vulnerable under his scrutiny, but she wasn’t about to back down now.

"Logan," she said softly, her tone gentler, "I know this isn’t easy for you. I’m not stupid. But if you’d let your guard down, even just a little, maybe you’d find something here worth staying for."

The silence between them stretched out. Logan didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t get up and leave, which Mia took as a small victory. For a moment, she thought she’d gotten through to him, even just a tiny bit.

But then Logan finally spoke, his voice as gruff as ever.

"I’m not like you, princess," he muttered. "I don’t need a home or a bunch of people to save me. You, on the other hand, you’ve already let this place trap you."

Each of Logan’s words struck her like a blow to the heart, stirring something deep within her, something she had buried for so long. The “beast” inside her—the raw, chaotic, untamed force—began to stir. It was a part of herself she had suppressed for years, molding herself into the image of what others expected: a hero, a teacher, someone with complete control over her emotions and power.

But Logan, with his brutal honesty, was tearing down those walls bit by bit.

"Trapped?" she repeated, her voice trembling slightly as she struggled to stay composed. "You think I’m trapped? This... this is the closest I’ve ever come to having a life. You don’t understand because you’ve never let yourself have anything like this."

"Something like this?" Logan scoffed, a short, bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Tying myself down has only ever brought me pain, and it’s doing the same to you. Look at yourself. They’ve turned you into what they need—tame, docile. But that’s not who you really are, is it? I can see it, the real you hiding behind that façade. And it didn’t take me years to figure it out. All that control... it’s hanging by a thread, isn’t it?"

His words echoed in Mia’s mind, and something inside her snapped. She could feel the beast pushing, trying to break free, tearing at the walls of her mind. The lights in the room flickered, and a faint electric charge filled the air, a sign of how close she was to losing control.

Mia’s breathing became shallow, her anger swelling inside her like an unstoppable wave. Logan’s words, his dismissive attitude, all of it was pushing her to the edge. It was like he knew, like he wanted her to break down, to prove that he was right, that she was just a fraud.

"I’m not a fraud," she whispered, more to herself than to him, though her voice quivered with indignation. Her hands clenched into fists, and her body began to tremble.

"Of course, you are, doll," Logan replied, stepping closer, as if waiting for her to explode. "You’re pretending to be something you’re not. How much longer before all that control falls apart? Because I can see it, I can feel it in the air. You’re about to snap."

"Don’t you dare talk about what you don’t understand," she managed to say, though her voice sounded weak, almost choked.

"I understand you better than you think," Logan growled, his voice low and dangerous. "That control you’re clinging to—it’s a damn lie. And you know it as well as I do. The only time you’ve ever felt like yourself was in the Danger Room, when you were fighting—free, chaotic, wild. Isn’t that right?"

It was as if those words shattered something inside Mia. The air grew heavier, charged with electricity, and her vision began to blur. The room seemed to spin, and the sound of her own breath roared in her ears. Her body shook, and a sudden dizziness hit her hard.

Logan, who had been watching her closely, stepped forward just as Mia swayed, raising a hand to her head. Everything inside her felt like it was spinning out of control, and before she could stop it, her legs gave way.

"Shit..." Logan muttered, a mix of concern and frustration in his voice as he quickly caught her around the waist before she collapsed completely.

Logan's touch was solid, secure—an unexpected anchor in the storm that raged within Mia’s mind. The wild roar that always threatened to break her control suddenly softened into a gentle purr. The beast inside her—the one she’d learned to suppress for fear of losing herself—calmed in his presence. She didn’t fully understand why, but the peace was so tempting that it almost hurt to let it go.

Logan, for his part, was experiencing something unfamiliar as well. The usual tightness in his chest, that constant tension he'd carried for years, seemed to ease slightly with her so close. He had never felt a need like this—something that made him want to hold on a second longer than necessary. Every fiber of his being told him to let Mia go, but something deeper—something that confused him—made him resist. It was strange, uncomfortable... and at the same time, hard to ignore.

She looked at him, as if trying to figure him out, but didn’t dare dig deeper. However, a small voice in the back of her mind, almost imperceptible, whispered for her to do just that—to explore his mind, to search for answers she couldn’t find on her own. The temptation was strong, a natural impulse, but dangerous. And just when her will was about to break, Scott's voice cut through her thoughts.

“What’s going on here?” Scott asked, his voice tense.

Logan raised an eyebrow, snapping out of his reverie. He’d noticed the tension in Scott, and the temptation to toy with it was too great. His face shifted into a barely perceptible smile, but it was there, hovering on the edge of his lips. Purposefully, he adjusted his grip around Mia’s waist, pulling her just a little closer with a nonchalant attitude.

“Nothing, Summers. Just making sure she doesn’t fall. You wouldn’t want our star professor ending up on the floor, would you?” His voice was deep and deliberately slow, choosing each word like a well-aimed strike.

Scott took a step forward, his eyes fixed on Logan.

“Let her go, Logan.”

“Not sure I’m ready to do that just yet, Summers,” Logan said, his tone loaded with double meaning. “Seems like she enjoys being in good hands. Not something you’d understand, huh?”

The comment was as subtle as a storm, and Scott stepped even closer, clearly on the verge of losing control. Mia, still unsteady but much more aware, could feel the tension between the two men building dangerously. The beast within her was silent, as if it relished the calm and warmth radiating from Logan's body, something that oddly kept her grounded.

“Logan…” Mia said softly, trying to intervene before things spiraled further. “I’m fine. You can let me go.”

But instead of relenting, Logan smirked with his usual arrogance, and with deliberate slowness, he slid his hand from Mia’s waist, making the moment last longer than necessary. His fingers grazed her skin for a second longer than was appropriate, and Mia felt a shiver run through her body, as if the part of her that she’d always struggled to control was responding in a completely different way. It was a feeling of danger, of temptation, but also of control—something she had never felt before.

Scott, however, was about to explode.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Logan?” Scott said, his voice rising as he took another step toward them.

Logan, still in no rush, simply stepped back, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, but with a mocking smile that made it clear he wasn’t taking Scott seriously.

“Relax, Summers. Just taking care of her, that’s all,” Logan said, though the double meaning was obvious in every word. “But, you know, if you think you can do a better job…”

Mia stepped in, feeling things slipping out of control.

“That’s enough,” she said, more firmly than she actually felt. She looked at Scott, then at Logan, taking a deep breath to find her center. “I’m fine. Logan just helped me… that’s all.”

Her words were firm, but something inside her resisted letting go of that feeling. That control she’d felt under Logan’s touch. It was new, dangerous… but intoxicating.

Logan glanced at her from the corner of his eye, as if he knew exactly what she was feeling, as if he’d uncovered something about her that even she hadn’t recognized until that moment. He flashed her one last playful, teasing smile before shrugging and heading for the door.

“Catch you later, Summers… Mia.” And with that, he left the room, leaving a tension in the air that still vibrated between the three of them.

Logan closed the door behind him, leaving the tension in the classroom to simmer. Scott still had that mix of concern and jealousy in his gaze. However, he wanted to smooth things over, not let it fester between them. He walked toward Mia cautiously, as if searching for the right moment to speak, but before he could say anything, she broke the silence.

“It’s nothing, really.” Her voice tried to sound casual, but there was something in her tone that betrayed her discomfort.

Scott approached, letting his fingers brush gently against hers—a small gesture, but one that said more than words ever could. He knew her well enough to sense that something was troubling her.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he said softly, his concern genuine. “That thing with Logan… was a bit strange.”

Mia looked away, still feeling the warmth from Logan’s touch, a sensation she hadn’t fully processed. She didn’t know how to explain it—to him or to herself. But with Scott there, trying to connect with her, she felt even more divided.

“Yeah, it was…” Mia searched for the words, but nothing seemed right. She could still feel the faint dizziness from Logan’s closeness, that strange tingling that had soothed the beast within her. “I wasn’t expecting a conversation with him to shake me up that much.”

Scott nodded, though he sensed there was more she wasn’t saying. The softness in her words, the lack of direct answers, only fed his doubts. But he wasn’t about to let those feelings take control. He leaned in a little closer, seeking her gaze.

“Mia, all I care about is that you’re okay,” he said, his voice warmer now, as if testing the waters. “Are you sure everything’s fine?”

She swallowed, feeling the weight of guilt—not for Logan, but for the growing mistrust she was beginning to feel toward everything around her. She’d gone to see Charles after her encounter with Logan, and although she hadn’t said it out loud, the conversation with the professor had left her feeling hollow. Like there was more he wasn’t telling her.

“I talked to Charles afterward,” Mia said, her gaze fixed on her hands, still intertwined with Scott’s. “He asked me to try to get along with Logan, to be more… understanding.” She tried to smile, but the gesture didn’t reach her eyes. “I guess we don’t know him well enough to judge.”

Scott frowned slightly, not taking his eyes off her. There was something in her tone, in the way she’d mentioned the professor, that made him doubt. He knew Mia had been searching for answers about her past, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that it weighed on her more than she let on.

“Charles always has his reasons,” he said tactfully, trying not to sound too firm. “Maybe he’s protecting you, in a way.”

She sighed, unable to ignore the sting she felt whenever Scott talked about Charles. She knew he trusted the professor more than anyone, and part of her wanted to hold onto that security. But there was another part of her that couldn’t stop wondering if Scott was also caught up in the same web of secrets.

“Maybe,” Mia replied, not looking at him directly. “But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more. Something he’s not telling me.”

Scott looked at her intently, as if trying to unravel every layer of what she was saying. He knew she was strong, but he also knew that some things affected her more than she admitted. And while he wanted to believe that Charles always did the right thing, the unease in Mia’s eyes made him doubt for a moment.

“I know this isn’t easy for you,” he said, his voice soft as he sought her gaze. “But I trust that Charles only wants what’s best for us… for you.”

Mia swallowed again, feeling the distance between them grow, even though Scott hadn’t let go of her. The physical closeness didn’t calm that feeling in her chest like it had before, that small flame of distrust that had started to burn. She knew Scott was trying to do the right thing, but deep down, she couldn’t stop thinking that maybe he was keeping things from her too.

“I hope you’re right,” she said quietly, trying not to sound too distant. “I just… I don’t want to lose myself in all of this.”

Scott squeezed her hand a little tighter, trying to offer the support he believed she needed, though deep down, he knew there was something they couldn’t solve with words

[glamdringwlv]

Unchain my heart: Part 2. So, you're a tough guy

Unchain my heart series. Logan Howlett x oc!fmale Summary: Mia Green has grown up in a lab, subjected to numerous experiments due to her status as a mutant. When she manages to escape, Charles Xavier takes her in at his mansion, giving her a new life and helping her regain her memories. However, the arrival of a new resident at the mansion threatens to destabilize everything she believed.

Warnings: Violence, foul language, a mix of various canons, X-Men movies, X-Men animated series, X-men comics.

a/n: Hi, thank you so much for the support. The truth is, I'm starting something like this and I don't have much idea of what I'm doing or who this app works, but thanks for showing it some love.

Prologue, Part 1. The man comes around

So you're a tough guy Like it really rough guy Just can't get enough guy Chest always so puffed guy I'm that bad type

The midday sun bathed the mansion’s hallways in warm light as Mia made her way to the Danger Room, trying to shake off the confusion and resentment that had plagued her since the previous day. Scott had stayed with her all night, doing his best to soothe the chaos in her mind.

He had mentioned that the arrival of the new mutant hadn't been a smooth process for anyone, but particularly for Charles, who had had quite a scene in his office. Even without probing his mind, it was clear that Scott was not pleased with the new presence in the mansion. His tone and choice of words spoke volumes about his displeasure.

"I saved his ass and brought him here, only for him to laugh at my name and then try to attack my girl."

Mia chuckled at the latter part. She bit her tongue to keep from confessing that he had been so agitated because he’d felt her attempts to invade his mind. She almost told him that she could handle herself, but instead let him continue complaining while his voice and presence lulled her into a deep sleep.

Despite being unconscious, she felt genuinely drained. Sessions like these left her mind feeling like mush. Still, Scott’s presence comforted her in a way she couldn’t explain, something he’d done since she’d arrived there, broken and alone.

As Mia entered the Danger Room, she took a deep breath, trying to focus on the defense class she was about to teach. This room had always been her refuge, a place where she could escape her thoughts and concentrate on what she did best: fight.

She waited patiently as the students filed in. Many greeted her with smiles, while others eyed her warily, afraid she might invade their privacy and expose their darkest secrets.

Just as the students were beginning to gather, the door slid open, revealing Ororo. She walked in with her usual grace, and, to Mia’s surprise, Logan was beside her. She was giving him a tour, and his presence made Mia’s heart skip a beat. The tension from the previous day was still fresh and seeing him in her space made her uneasy.

Her body tensed, and she instinctively crossed her arms as she felt Logan’s gaze scrutinizing her, a slow assessment from head to toe.

"Ah, Logan, let me introduce you to Mia," Storm said with a smile. "She’s in charge of defense classes here—she’s the best at what she does."

Logan looked at her with a mix of surprise and skepticism. Mia caught the irony in his smile. She raised an eyebrow, silently asking what was so amusing.

"Her?" Logan asked, addressing Ororo but keeping his gaze fixed on Mia. "I wouldn’t have guessed in a million years."

Mia felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Her confusion and resentment from Logan’s attack the previous day mixed with a rising frustration. His lack of apology left a sour taste, and his arrogant demeanor only made things worse. She remembered what Scott had said: it would be difficult to get him to follow the rules.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you without your claws around my neck, Logan," Mia replied, her voice sharp.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling on his lips.

"I think you’d have liked it under different circumstances, don’t you, doll?"

Mia tensed further at the comment, her mind quickly calculating how best to handle the situation without letting her irritation take over. Charles had scolded her numerous times for losing control, for giving in to her more primal instincts. She noticed the students in the Danger Room fall silent, their eyes darting between Logan and her, expectant.

"We don’t deal in hypotheticals here," she said firmly, her voice controlled. "If you want to see what I can do, you only have to join the class."

The air crackled with tension, as if it were holding its breath, waiting for Logan’s response. He remained silent for a moment, assessing Mia with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. Finally, a crooked smile spread across his face.

"You win, doll," he said, his tone suggesting he accepted the challenge more for fun than out of respect. "Let’s see what you’re made of."

A primal urge surged through Mia’s thoughts. An uncontrollable desire to show him, to prove she could take him down if she wanted. Show him. The thought was insistent, like hearing her own voice but much wilder, laden with resentment. From deep within, a single idea emerged: dominate him.

Ororo exchanged a quick glance with Mia, then with Logan, as if weighing the situation. But she decided not to intervene. Mia heard Charles’s voice in her head, urging her to end the display. But Charles’s warning had less force than the hissing murmur of the beast within her. She knew this part of her came from the past, a memory of something horrible lost to time.

"Fine," Mia said, addressing the students, her voice regaining a professional tone. "Today, we’re focusing on basic defensive techniques, but with an emphasis on adaptability. You never know who you’re going to face, so you need to be prepared for anything."

As she spoke, her mind raced, devising a plan to manage Logan’s presence in the class without letting the situation spiral out of control. His presence meant that Charles had some intention for him, and Mia couldn’t afford to show weakness or lose authority in front of the students.

The two began to size each other up as they circled the space. She realized Logan was larger than she had anticipated and appeared to be strong. Her strategy had to focus on tiring him out and keeping her distance.

"What are you waiting for, sweetheart?" He gestured with his fingers for her to come closer, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the situation.

Logan took a defensive stance, a mocking grin on his lips as if this were nothing more than a game. Mia made the first move, a quick and precise strike aimed at his torso. When her hand made contact, she felt the bones in her hand break easily. She looked at the mutant in confusion and quickly pulled back, feeling her bones painfully knit together.

"What the hell are you made of?"

Logan adopted a defensive posture, still grinning as if this were a game to him.

"You wouldn’t believe it. You’ll have to do better than that," Logan muttered, his voice low but loud enough for Mia to hear.

She didn’t respond, instead changing her tactics, using her agility to move around him, looking for an angle to exploit. Logan turned with her, his movements controlled, almost lazy, as if he knew he had all the time in the world.

Finally, Mia saw her chance. She feigned an attack toward his right side, but at the last moment, changed direction and struck his left leg. It was a quick move, so unexpected that Logan hesitated for a second. But it was only a second. With an agility she hadn’t anticipated, Logan sidestepped, using her momentum against her. Before she could react, he had grabbed her, his arms firm around her, easily immobilizing her.

"Too predictable," he said softly, his hot breath against her ear. "But not bad for a beginner. If you relaxed a bit, we could really have some fun…"

Mia felt a surge of frustration, her body tensing against his. But she knew this was the perfect moment to show him what she was made of. With a quick move, she used her hips to leverage and freed herself from his hold, spinning on her heels and delivering a kick that made him stagger back. She gritted her teeth against the pain that spread through her body. Logan regained his balance quickly, his arrogant smile disappearing for a moment. Their eyes met, and for the first time, Mia saw a flicker of doubt in his gaze.

Unchain me. The voice in her mind was insistent, laden with promises. Mia felt her blood start to boil, her control slipping. She had only heard that part of herself when she was close to death, in extreme situations. She didn’t understand why it wanted to surface now. Nor did she understand why she was fighting someone she didn’t know. With three words, Logan had made her lose the composure she had worked so hard to maintain. She knew something in him awakened a part of her that had been dormant. Something deep in her mind was reacting, recognizing something in him. The beast roared, demanding to be freed. He’s like us. The words echoed in her mind. Free me.

She felt dizzy, the air clogging in her throat. What did the voice mean by saying he was like her?

There was no time to ponder as the mutant lunged at her. As a reflex, the energy around her began to ripple, creating an invisible force field that shielded her movements, protecting her from his blows. Every time he attacked, he was repelled by the invisible barrier. Realizing she was using her mutation, Logan stepped back, his claws sliding out from his knuckles.

"You’re not the only one with tricks, doll," Logan growled before charging at her with his claws gleaming.

The fight intensified. One of his strikes managed to get through a weak point in the shield. Mia tried to dodge it, but one of the blades sliced her cheek in a quick motion. He was about to stop the fight, feeling they had crossed a line from which there was no return, but Mia’s skin regenerated instantly. The bewilderment in Logan’s eyes was evident, giving her a chance to capitalize on his surprise. With a swift move, she brought him down, pinning him to the ground, her hands firmly on his shoulders, trying to subdue him.

The beast inside her roared, eager to break free, but Mia focused on burying that voice deep in her mind. The energy around her began to calm, and with effort, she managed to keep it in check, silencing the part of herself that demanded control.

As she felt that part quiet down, she turned her attention to Logan. His claws were still out, and although he was immobilized, he continued to squirm beneath her, trying to break free.

"This isn’t my first rodeo, Logan. You’re not getting out."

"I’m not saying I don’t enjoy having a woman on top of me, but this isn’t exactly my favourite scenario."

Mia looked at him with derision and used some of her energy to reinforce the pressure of her hands, pinning him harder to the ground.

"You should’ve apologized for the infirmary" Mia said, her voice low but firm.

Logan glared at her, his eyes burning with fury and defiance.

"Apologize?" he spat, his voice laced with sarcasm. "And what about you? You invaded my mind without an invite. Doesn’t that deserve an apology?"

Mia felt a pang of guilt but buried it quickly. She knew she had invaded his mind, but she had done it for a reason. However, Logan’s arrogance quickly dispelled that guilt.

"Maybe you wouldn’t mind if I did it again," Mia retorted, her tone suggesting something more. "Reveal your darkest secrets."

For a moment, Logan seemed to waver, his resistance loosening just perceptibly. But soon he tensed again, with a smirk that didn’t quite mask his irritation. He lifted his head to get closer to her.

"Go ahead, bub. I’ve got nothing to hide."

Mia closed her eyes and delved into his mind. As she did, Logan began to resist again, but this time not with physical strength, rather mentally, trying to keep her out. However, Mia’s pressure was relentless, and although Logan was strong, he couldn’t keep her at bay for long.

"If you’re staying, Logan, you’ll have to follow the rules," Mia whispered, her voice full of authority. "And this room is my domain. Here, I make the rules."

Logan’s resistance began to give way, not because he wanted to, but because the mental pressure Mia exerted was becoming unbearable. The annoyance in his mind grew, and although he tried to fight it, he eventually had to concede. He retracted his claws, his body relaxing beneath her, though the anger in his eyes remained.

Mia slowly released him, watching as he got up with a humiliated expression. There was something about her that infuriated him and deeply unsettled him. With a frustrated growl, Logan got up and left the room, angry with himself.

Mia watched him go, her own heart pounding uncontrollably. The beast within her had calmed, but the fear remained. She didn’t understand why she had almost lost control or why that dark part of her had decided to surface with a stranger. She felt uneasy, as if Logan had awakened something in her she didn’t even know existed.

She looked at the students, who were staring at the scene with wide eyes, unsure of what to say. Mia took a deep breath and made a decision.

"Class is cancelled for today," she announced, her voice firmer than she felt. "Take the rest of the time off."

The students, still stunned, began to exit the Danger Room, murmuring among themselves. Mia watched them leave, her mind swirling with thoughts. She needed answers, needed to understand what was happening inside her. And there was only one person who could help her.

"Well, that was quite the intense introduction," Storm approached her, still stunned by seeing her friend lose control like that.

"He's a jerk. Someone had to put him in his place."

"Quite the intense class," Ororo said, her hand on Mia’s shoulder, helping her relax.

Mia could only murmur a soft "yes," still shaken by her loss of control.

[glamdringwlv]

Unchain my heart: Part 1.

Unchain my heart series. Logan Howlett x oc!fmale Summary: Mia Green has grown up in a lab, subjected to numerous experiments due to her status as a mutant. When she manages to escape, Charles Xavier takes her in at his mansion, giving her a new life and helping her regain her memories. However, the arrival of a new resident at the mansion threatens to destabilize everything she believed.

Warnings: Violence, foul language, a mix of various canons, X-Men movies, X-Men animated series, X-men comics.

Prologue, Part 2.

Part 1. When the man comes around.

“Focus, let’s go,” Charles’s voice resonated in her mind, like a calming echo.

Mia gritted her teeth. “It hadn’t occurred to me, Professor. Thanks for the advice,” she thought sarcastically. It was hard not to be consumed by frustration. Every time she failed, it felt like she was moving backward instead of forward. She took a deep breath and returned to her task.

The atmosphere in Xavier’s office was thick with tension. Mia sat across from the mahogany desk, her gaze fixed on the Professor. Her eyes burned with intensity, weary from battling against Charles’s interruptions. Every time she thought she’d won the battle, her concentration shattered.

Everything around her felt overwhelming—the students’ voices on the other side of the door, the hum of the machines, even her own breathing.

“How long is this going to take?” Jubilee interrupted from a corner of the room, her tone bored and slightly irritated. “It’s really dull watching them glare at each other in silence. Are we going to spend the whole afternoon watching them stare each other down?”

“You’re the one who wanted to be here, Jubilee. No one forced you,” Scott replied, crossing his arms and frowning.

“I thought this was going to be way more epic. Come on, two telepaths? I’m just hoping something happens. She hasn’t blinked in five minutes.”

Mia took another deep breath, trying to block out Jubilee and Scott’s noise. Their voices blended in her mind, making it harder to concentrate.

“Now that I think about it, what is she supposed to be learning?” Jubilee asked, looking at Scott. “Isn’t she supposed to be a teacher?”

Mia felt the mental barrier she’d built begin to falter. Scott’s storm of thoughts was on the verge of breaching her consciousness.

He shouldn’t say anything. It would betray Mia’s trust. Would she be angry if I told her why? She’s just a curious kid. Scott’s thoughts were a torrent Mia could barely contain.

With a sigh, Mia felt Charles seize the distraction to tear down what she’d worked so hard to build. Her mental barrier crumbled, and she let out a frustrated growl. Again.

“Damn it,” she muttered to herself, her breathing heavy and her fists clenched.

“Watch your language, Mia.”

She was on the brink of giving up, of telling Charles that she’d had enough, that she couldn’t take it anymore, and that teaching teenagers had completely worn her out, but she bit her tongue.

Mia made a decision. She gently touched the stream of Scott’s thoughts, a soft gesture, almost like a touch on the shoulder. Scott, recognizing the sensation, allowed her into his mind. It was something Mia always did: she asked for permission before intruding into someone’s mental space, a courtesy she considered essential.

Suddenly, everything was overwhelmed by her presence, her feelings, even her scent. Summers took a moment to compose himself, and though he was used to mental intrusions, he felt overwhelmed at first. He’d always been fascinated by how different her mutation was from Charles’s.

Tell her, it doesn’t matter. She just wants to understand.

“Mia arrived at the school at seventeen without knowing how. She had lost all her memories, didn’t even know her name,” Scott explained aloud, his words reflecting what Mia saw in his mind. “Charles has helped her recover some of what she lost, but there are still things locked away in her head. Even the Professor can’t access them. He’s teaching her to unlock them.”

“Wow, if she’s already omega level, imagine what she could do with all her memories. This chick is cool. Pretty scary,” Jubilee thought, her thoughts buzzing with a mix of admiration and fear.

“Jubilee, please. Don’t bombard me with your opinions. I’m trying to concentrate. It’s hard to block you out when you think so loudly,” Mia said, a hint of irritation in her tone.

“I’m not bombarding you with anything, Professor,” Jubilee replied, surprised.

“Of course you are. I’m not going to give you a harder test just because you know my past.”

Jubilee fell silent, trying to control her thoughts, but Mia could still sense the agitation in her mind, the fear and discomfort. It was a common reaction when others realized how deeply she could delve with her powers.

“I think that’s enough for today, Mia. You’ve held out longer this time and with distractions,” Charles said, his voice calm, but Mia detected a hint of pride in his words.

“No, I can do better,” Mia insisted, her voice filled with determination.

She gritted her teeth, closing her eyes tightly, her fists clenched until her nails dug into her palms. She felt the thud of her heart, the weight of her mistakes, and the desperate need to improve.

Charles tried to dissuade her, but Mia stood her ground, and Charles watched her in silence. This time, she decided to close her eyes, focusing on her mind. Mia knew her telepathic abilities were different from Charles’s—more raw, more instinctive. But today, she was determined to push beyond her limits. She visualized a glowing line connecting her consciousness to Charles’s, a line that shone brightly with energy. Resolute, she extended her awareness towards that line, trying to sense Charles’s mind beyond the barrier. She pushed with all her might, making her breathing rapid and a slight tremor run through her body.

Scott felt the urge to rush to her, to touch her shoulder to bring her back to reality and pull her away from the training, but Charles stopped him with a look, feeling the mutant’s progress.

The lights in the room flickered, and the onlookers were stunned. Mia had shown no signs that her mutation extended beyond telepathy, but when she concentrated too hard, the electrical devices around her reacted inexplicably for a brief moment.

With one final effort, she fell into Charles’s consciousness. A whirlwind of information and voices overwhelmed her. Everything was utter chaos, a maelstrom of data. She tried to focus on something, anything. She concentrated on the relationship they had forged and searched for herself amidst the storm of memories. And then she saw it. Fragments of her own past, distorted and confusing images. She saw a laboratory, bright lights, faces she couldn’t recognize. But what struck her most was the feeling that Charles knew more than he had revealed. There was hidden knowledge, a certainty in his mind that made Mia’s heart tighten.

And then, like a flash, a fleeting image appeared before her. A man with metal claws, fierce and wild. She didn’t recognize him, but the image was etched in her mind. She didn’t recognize him, but something about the image unsettled her. It was as if a part of her, something very deep and hidden, was reacting to that image. The feeling was strange, almost familiar, though she couldn’t understand why.

Before she could process what she’d seen, a sharp pain pulled her out of Charles’s mind. She opened her eyes abruptly, feeling a trickle of blood running from her nose. The effort had been too much, and her body was paying for it. But despite the pain, Mia couldn’t stop thinking about what she had seen.

Before she could delve deeper, a word echoed in her mind: “Weapon X.” It was like a flash, an echo lost in some forgotten corner of her memory. She didn’t know where that association came from, or why she knew that name, but the sensation left her stunned.

Scott’s hands were already on her shoulders, anchoring her to this world. His scent pulled her away from the sensations she had just discovered. She leaned more into Cyclops’s touch and let herself be comforted.

“She’s exhausted. She’s come too far,” his voice resonated in her head, and she cursed herself for not having gone further.

She was dazed, the voices around her seemed distant. It was strange that they were discussing her limits as if she weren’t there. She understood less and less of what was being said around her, a disjointed ebb and flow that made no sense.

Mission. Mutants in danger. Ororo. Magneto.

She felt herself slowly disconnecting from the conversation until she became unconscious. Her limp body alerted Scott, who tried to move her to see how she was doing.

Concern shaded his face as he saw her completely out of it. He shook her gently, but there was no response. This wasn’t the first time Mia had lost consciousness while training with the Professor, but it didn’t make him any less worried.

“Take her to the infirmary, she needs to rest,” Charles ordered Scott.

“What do you think she saw? The last time she ended up like this was when she remembered her parents.”

“I’m not sure,” Scott replied, but there was tension in his voice. He knew exactly what Mia had seen, but he didn’t know how it had affected her neural network. Mia’s past was a dark abyss that could consume her if revealed too soon.

Summers lifted Mia and carried her out of the office, suspecting that the Professor was hiding something from both of them.

...

Mia awoke in the infirmary feeling disoriented and confused. The room was bathed in a soft, warm light, and the air was tinged with a familiar medicinal scent. She slowly sat up, a persistent throb in her head pulsing with each beat of her heart.

She took a moment to adjust her vision. The room was quiet, with several beds and machines around. The sounds of the infirmary were soothing, but a constant buzzing in her ears hinted at something more going on.

A low murmur pierced through the pain that made her eyelids heavy. Her mind scanned the room and found it—a new thread of thought. As she focused on it, it seemed like a tangled skein of threads struggling to unravel. Even before she had delved into them, she could taste the pain on the tip of her tongue. She pushed that feeling aside and tried to steady herself.

Once she felt more stable, she stood up carefully, removing the IVs. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out this time, but her muscles felt stiff, indicating it had been quite a while. She stifled a groan of pain and struggled to get up.

As she approached the other bed, her breath caught in her throat. Damn. It was the guy with the metal claws she’d seen in the professor's mind. Something inside her twisted with recognition, but she couldn’t place the feeling.

Maybe it was connected to her past. She bit her lip, debating whether to invade the privacy of an unconscious man she didn’t know or to wait and resolve her doubts once he woke up.

Weapon X. What if he was dangerous? She needed to find out. Although the professor wouldn’t have let him into the mansion if he believed him to be a threat.

She closed her eyes, and the tangled threads of thoughts and pain reappeared before her. Tentatively, she extended her consciousness towards his, ready to dive in, but a hand, gripping too tightly, seized her wrist, making her gasp in surprise.

“Where the hell am I?”

The mutant moved quickly. Now she was trapped between the bed and his chest. Her eyes caught a glint near her neck, and the metal brushed against her throat, scratching the area lightly.

Fear surged through her, and the lights in the room began to flicker uncontrollably. Logan looked around in confusion, not understanding what was happening. Despite the blinding headache, Mia projected a simple command into the mutant’s mind: Let me go.

The contact vanished instantly, as if she’d been slapped. She fell to her knees, still weak from the strain of the training. Her mind hadn’t fully recovered, and even such a simple command had taken an extreme effort.

She heard the door slam shut and let the darkness envelop her once more.

[glamdringwlv]

Unchain my heart: Prologue

Unchain my heart series. Logan Howlett x oc!fmale Summary: Mia Green has grown up in a lab, subjected to numerous experiments due to her status as a mutant. When she manages to escape, Charles Xavier takes her in at his mansion, giving her a new life and helping her regain her memories. However, the arrival of a new resident at the mansion threatens to destabilize everything she believed.

Warnings: Violence, foul language, a mix of various canons, X-Men movies, X-Men animated series, X-men comics.

Part 1.

. Prologue .

How long had she been in this state? Floating, in a cloud. She couldn't tell if she was up or down, or where her body ended and the liquid that kept her suspended began. She couldn't hear or see anything; she had been completely isolated. All she could hear was the beat of her heart.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Her mind was blank; it had been a long time since she’d had any thoughts beyond mere existence. This made it more bearable.

“We don’t pay millions for you to torture people,” a voice argued.

“Sir, it’s not torture. It’s for the benefit of science and our security.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to sleep after doing these things, Stryker?”

She would remember that name for the rest of her life. Stryker. When she got out of this pit, she would drown him in it.

“These ‘people,’ as you call them, are a danger to themselves and the rest of humanity. It’s our duty to investigate how to stop them or end their mutations.”

Mutant. That’s what had brought her here. That and fear.

“We’ll give you a demonstration. This one here is our most dangerous weapon. We’re still trying to find a way to control it without it getting out of hand.”

“How did that go with Weapon X?”

Mia had heard about Weapon X. The scientists who pushed her to the brink of consciousness and sanity mentioned it frequently when talking about the enhancements they’d made to her DNA.

“That was a minor setback. We’re making progress with controlling the specimens, partly thanks to Subject 23.”

Subject 23. They had stripped her of so many things that they didn’t even refer to her by name anymore. She focused on keeping a part of herself safe, away from the sterile hands of the doctors trying to strip her of her identity. They didn’t want anything interfering with their commands.

“She has great potential. Unlike before, we’ve implanted a device in the frontal lobe of her brain. Only we can remove it; if anyone else tries to extract or destroy it, a neuronal pruning will be triggered throughout the brain, leading to the subject’s death.”

Mia was aware of that thing, feeling it buzz in her head, even though the lab staff claimed it was impossible to perceive. Surprise, not for a telepath. It interfered with her ability to enter the minds of those present, the only thing keeping them safe from a stroke or brain hemorrhage. She tried to move, but the device prevented it. It controlled her body, not her.

“We’ll start the demonstration. Proceed.”

Everything was set in motion, and she felt the need to writhe in anticipation of what was coming. Her muscles wanted to contract, echoing the pain they had experienced before. She wanted to scream, to rip off the electrodes binding her, but all she could do was bite down hard on the respirator supplying her with oxygen while she was submerged. On the outside, nothing had changed; her face showed calm, as if being in this situation didn’t faze her.

She felt the hum of the machines around her, unusual since she typically couldn’t tell when the shocks would start. This time, the hair all over her body stood on end, expectant. She felt the energy in the room move from the generators to the devices, sensing its intensity and location. A strange attraction connected her to the charge sustaining the room. She focused on it, and instinctively began drawing it into the tank in small amounts. She felt the electricity filtering through the conductive liquid that usually kept her suspended as the shocks constricted her entire body. Instead of contorting, she started absorbing everything around her. She felt stronger than ever.

“Sir, it seems something is diverting the energy from the room into the tank.”

“Locate the drain and stop it.”

Mia began channeling the new power towards the area where the device hummed and felt a terrible fear at Striker’s words. A neuronal pruning would be triggered throughout the brain, leading to the subject’s death. If she destroyed it, she would die, end everything. The dread sunk deep into her bones when she realized she didn’t care if it meant ending everything; she would be free one way or another. She focused and tried to overheat the implant.

“Sir… it’s Subject 23, she’s absorbing the electricity from the complex.”

“Impossible, that’s not her mutation.”

“Progressing with control, huh?”

She felt an unbearable pain in her head as the implant’s circuits began to fail. It was like a hive of wasps had settled behind her eyelids, distracting her from the task. The buzzing grew louder, resisting destruction and threatening to deafen her in the process. She felt dizzy, on the verge of losing consciousness, but she didn’t give up. This was her last chance to get out of here.

Chaos erupted around her as the lights suffered a surge and everything exploded with her decisions. She needed more; she couldn’t stop now. With a blood-curdling scream, she used all the fear she had felt up to that moment to gather the strength she needed. As the device overheated, an unbearable pain spread through her head. Suddenly, the buzzing stopped, and her mind was silent for the first time, despite the screams of those outside the tank.

The tank. Now her body was hers again. She felt numb but managed to move her fingers and toes, regaining control. She continued redirecting the electricity toward herself, causing sparks to fly around her.

“Turn off all the devices, initiate the containment system!”

But it was too late; there was no energy to cut off because all of it was within Mia’s body. With a powerful movement, she released a wave of electricity that made the container burst, scattering shards of glass and waves of conductive liquid around the room. In pain, she opened her eyes, but everything spun uncontrollably. She squeezed them shut and managed to get on her knees. She heard people surrounding her, could hear the thoughts of all the agents and the fear they emitted, still pointing all kinds of weapons at her. She fumbled for the respirator tube and with a tremendous effort, removed it. She felt it slide down her esophagus and her lungs begin to burn. When she finally got rid of it completely, a violent coughing fit overtook her.

She leaned on her hands, trying to remember what she was doing here or what was happening. There was only one command in her mind: run, escape. Her muscles were failing, and the pain in her head kept her dazed. She could still feel the energy coursing through her veins like liquid fire, giving her a strength she had never experienced before. Despite the noise and the light that hurt her eyes, she managed to place her hands on the ground, touching the liquid that had tortured her so many times.

Show them what it feels like.

With a cry of pain, she released more electricity, and anyone in contact with the fluid received an electric shock that left them paralyzed. She wanted to stop; she just wanted to immobilize them, but something twisted inside her wanted them to pay for what she had suffered. Someone had to be blamed for all her bones hurting at once.

A loud crash sounded as everyone present fell to the ground, immobilized. She could still hear the emergency alarms and people rushing towards her. With extreme difficulty, she staggered up and felt everything in her brain beginning to deteriorate.

With her last remaining strength, she began to run, not knowing where. Something inside her began to pull her, showing her the way. She surrounded herself with the remaining energy in her body so that no one would get in her way. With each step, threads of energy shot out, seeking a body to impact, taking down her pursuers.

She was exhausted and disoriented, barely remembering why she was running. Who were all these people? Who was she? There was only an animalistic instinct in her mind urging her to get out of there and destroy everything in her path. Her vision started to fade, and as she moved forward, she had to lean on the walls of the base to regain her balance and breath.

She heard footsteps behind her and panic struck again. She couldn’t go back; she wouldn’t let herself be caught again. She closed her eyes and, through the pain, saw the trail of all the minds hunting her. With superhuman effort, using a strength she didn’t have, she projected a thought through them, spreading like a virus.

Stop. Kill each other.

She heard the sounds of weapons firing and the cries of pain from those present. No one would follow her now. She waited for a wave of guilt to overwhelm her, but felt nothing, only desperation, which drove her to keep moving.

After stumbling aimlessly, she reached what she believed was an exit—a metal door separating her from freedom. She leaned with trembling hands and destroyed the system keeping it closed. When she emerged, the cold night air made her shiver, but she didn’t care. A tear fell down her cheek as she felt the sensation of being outside for the first time in years.

She continued running into a deep forest, her bare feet bruised and cut by the glass shards. The pain didn’t stop her; she had grown accustomed to it. However, her muscles began to fail. After a few more missteps, she fell to her knees, trembling from exertion and energy loss. With the night’s silence, she had time to feel her brain shutting down gradually, dying piece by piece. The faces she had seen, the conversations she had overheard—all faded to incoherence and eventually disappeared. Everything she once was was extinguished, drowned like a fire without oxygen.

Before losing consciousness, she heard a voice in her head: “We’ve found you. You’re safe now.”

[glamdringwlv]

-Get it on-

Maybe the worst Logan is not that bad.

Wolverine/Logan Howlett x female!OC a/n: Hi! This is my first work on this app and in English, which isn’t my first language. This idea has been in my mind since I saw the movie because this Logan has me on my knees for him. I hope you'll give it a chance. I'm using a oc female caracter bc I feel it that way. She has powers, so she is a mutant. And I took several liberties to make the shot and it probably has some mistakes but I wanted to write something cute for Logan. Thanks Warnings: Suggestive lenguage, Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, a bit of angst, foul language, mentions of alcohol, cursing, my bad english.

Summary: Grace Green has been waiting for her Logan to show up for so long that she’s losing her mind. But when it seems he’s finally appeared, it turns out to be the worst one.

+++

Wade tries to stifle a surprised squeal, but fails and quickly turns toward his companion.

"Well, pluck out my eyes and call me Al. It’s her, Logan. It’s her."

Logan doesn’t seem fazed, but when Grace sees him, she can’t help but run toward him, ignoring the stares from the others. From the mercenary's perspective, everything happens in slow motion, like in those cheesy romantic movies he secretly loved.

Her arms wrap around his neck, and Logan instinctively grabs her waist, not letting go of the bottle in his hand. Their lips crash together in a rough kiss, and the X-Men sighs happily, unable to suppress a silly smile as the kiss continues.

The others watch the scene with satisfaction, glad that the girl's endless misery-filled speeches have finally come to an end.

"Alright, folks, I think we’ve had enough cocaine jokes. No need to push Disney’s patience any further." Wade nudges Logan’s shoulder, to which he responds with a deep growl, tightening his hold on Grace. "Did you just growl at me? You're such an animal."

It’s Grace who pulls back, placing her hands on the mutant's chest, hardly believing he’s there with her.

"Why do you taste like rubbing alcohol?"

"Because our big guy here downed a bottle of ethanol and some hawk-eye whiskey. Tell ‘em, big man."

"My name’s Gambit."

"Sure, whatever."

Grace seems dazed but can’t hide how happy she is.

"God, Lo. I’ve missed you so much. This whole place is filled with Deadpools, but no Wolverines. I was losing hope of ever seeing my Logan again."

"My Logan?" Grace didn’t like the sound of that. She takes a few steps back, needing the distance to get some perspective.

"Oh ho ho, you have no idea who she is, do you, you bastard?" Wade’s voice confirms Grace's suspicions, but it’s Logan’s expression that assures him.

"God, I just kissed some random Wolverine…" Grace puts a hand to her forehead, her features twisted in anguish.

"He’s not just any Wolverine, he’s the worst one. But I guess we have to make do—"

"Shut up, Wade!" Grace sends a blast of power that flings him across the room.

"You know me?! Damn, the freaking best X-Man on the planet knows my name!"

"You," Grace steps up to Logan, jabbing her finger into his chest with more force than the mutant expected, "if you didn’t know me, why’d you follow along with the kiss?"

He lowers his head threateningly, getting on her level as if contemplating kissing her again.

"I’d be crazy to refuse a kiss from a woman like you, wouldn’t I? Besides, shouldn’t you have made sure who I was before throwing yourself into my arms?"

She huffs and shakes her head, not putting any distance between them.

"You really are the worst. I kissed you because you’re wearing the same suit as my Logan. I assumed you were him. But don’t you dare twist this around like it’s my fault."

"Guys, we’re in a time where people don’t belong to other people. Come on, be a little more open-minded."

"Shut the hell up!" they both shout simultaneously.

"See? You’re perfect for each other."

"Wade, I swear I’ll rip out your tongue and shove it up your ass, and I’ll savor every second it takes you to regenerate it, ‘cause they’ll be the best moments of my life."

She starts walking towards him, drawing two batons from the sheaths at her hips, stopping dangerously close. Wade stares at her, petrified, finally left speechless.

"Are those Daredevil's freaking batons?"

"God!" She extends a hand and hurls him into Logan, sending them both crashing into the far wall.

"What the hell?" Logan kicks Wade off him and stands up, discovering the bottle he’d been holding had shattered from the impact. The room fills with the sound of claws unsheathing.

The others enjoy the show, not wanting to get in Grace's way. They’d already learned the hard way that it wasn’t ideal.

"Logan, I don’t know how my variant is in your universe, but I’m much stronger than you. Don’t even try."

Wolverine bares his teeth like a wild beast. Maybe he was wrong. He leans forward, claws ready, prepared to charge at her. She can see how he’s healing from the wounds caused by crashing into various things in the room, which only enrages him more.

"Poor big kitty, did you get hurt, little claws?"

"Call me that again, and I swear I’ll—"

Before he can do anything, Deadpool steps between them.

"Guys, as much as I think this would totally turn me on, I can’t let you kill each other. Logan, this here is Grace Green, pretty much the only one who can put up with you and your soulmate in every timeline, I’d say." He turns to the girl. "I’m a huge fan of yours. But she’s also one of the strongest X-Men around. She could tear you apart if she wanted. We could really use her help."

"My soulmate?"

"That’s all you took from that?"

"Don’t listen to him, it’s just a figure of speech. But it’s true that I’m the only one who puts up with you, you’ve got a horrible temper, kitty claws."

"Stop calling me that, damn it. I’m not the asshole from your universe."

"Of course, you’re not, soft claws. My Logan would have torn you apart."

"Let him try."

"Actually, I thought Wolverines couldn’t age. I can’t believe I mistook you for him. What happened, Kitty? Not using enough coconut oil?"

"That’s it, I’m ripping out your throat in one move."

"Hey, Logan, no, stop. We need these people’s help, and you’re acting like a jerk."

"I don’t need anyone’s help."

"It’s impossible to leave this place, I’ve already tried. Cassandra can nullify my powers with a snap of her fingers."

"But you haven’t tried with us. Look, we’ve already been to her lair and—"

Elektra interrupts him.

"Wait, if these two clowns managed to get in and out alive, there might be a chance."

"YES! YES! Yes to everything."

"To what?"

"To you and me and you and everyone. To us, to being a team."

"You’re going to die."

"That’s not the attitude, Logan."

…

Grace had overheard the entire conversation between Laura and Logan. She knew eavesdropping was wrong, but she couldn’t help staying hidden when the X-Man's words broke her heart. She didn’t understand what had brought her there; her feet had just started moving towards him. When the girl disappeared, she approached him.

"I don’t want company, thanks." Logan's voice was still tinged with sadness and the effort it took not to cry. She felt something stir in her chest. She wanted to lift her hand and touch his hair, to use her powers to quiet whatever tormented him, even if just for a moment.

"Easy, Kitty, I come in peace. I bring an offering." She raised a bottle from Remy’s secret stash. It was her Logan’s favorite booze, so she hoped it was his too.

Logan raised an eyebrow, almost surprised to see one of his most common choices in the hand of the woman who had just sat beside him. He sighed and resigned himself to the nickname she had chosen for him. He accepted the gift and growled in gratitude. It was a start.

Silence enveloped them, but Grace was just grateful to be with Logan again. Even though her mind screamed that he wasn’t hers, her feelings overwhelmed her.

"You keep looking at me like that, princess."

She almost fainted at the nickname. She quickly looked at him, unable to take her eyes off his profile. That’s how Wolverine used to call her to irritate her sometimes. She let out a sigh.

"Like what?"

"Like you’re trying to see someone else. I’m not him. I’ll never be him."

Grace felt each word like a punch to the gut. She had fought against a lot of people and received some pretty nasty wounds, but this stung much more than any of them.

"I know." The words came out as a whisper, but she knew he could hear them. Tears began to fall down her cheek. "I didn’t get to say goodbye. It’s not like he’s dead or we broke up. I have no way to ease the loss I feel." Unconsciously, she started to fidget with the dog tags Logan had given her long ago, feeling more exhausted than ever. "And then you show up, wearing his suit and all his personality, his voice… For a moment, I felt like I was home again."

Logan’s hand shot out without thinking to grab her arm. Grace looked at him, her vision blurred with tears, her breath catching.

"Listen, I can’t replace him. Like I said, I’m not him."

"I’m not trying to replace him. I know you’re not him, but you remind me so much of everything I’ve lost. I guess I was just looking for something to hold onto, even if it’s just the ghost of what I had."

Logan’s defenses crumbled when he saw in her eyes a reflection of his own feelings. He slowly withdrew the hand that had tried to somehow anchor them both to reality.

"I don’t know you, Grace, but you’re stronger than you think. You don’t need to cling to any shadow to move forward. You’ve managed just fine in this hellhole."

The X-Men reflects on the words of this Wolverine, feeling relief for the first time in a long while. She had carried such a heavy burden all this time, one that had joined the endless void inside her, growing larger and larger. Hearing those words eased that feeling of anguish a bit. Wade had said this was the worst Wolverine, but she didn’t completely agree. She understood that this one carried an additional burden that dragged him down even more.

"I wish I could have said goodbye to my people, not just to Logan. The TVA wiped them all out when they pulled me from my timeline. I can’t help but think it’s my fault they’re gone. All I have left is this ridiculous lemon-yellow suit." In better spirits, she caught Logan’s attention by touching his arm. "I preferred the black one, didn’t you, Kitty?"

Logan growls in her direction, and she laughs with delight.

"The truth is, it suits you like a glove. You’ve always worn it with more dignity. Cyclops was jealous."

The comment seems to boost his ego, and he smirks.

"Cyclops, jealous? That idiot only has eyes for himself."

"Not when you steal the girl."

Logan looks at her seriously, processing what she just said.

"Were you Cyclops’ girlfriend?"

"Yeah, we entered the school together when we were kids, so we only had each other. When I was part of the teaching staff, I met Logan, and that bastard made me fall for him completely."

"How did he do it?"

"What?"

"Make you fall for him."

The mutant grinned widely and shook her head, amused.

"The truth is, he was a grump and a grouch. We didn’t get along very well. We just argued and fought a lot. But we eventually got along when we realized we were more alike than we thought. Logan had a hard time trusting others, and I had a hard time delegating to the team. Plus, he’d never admit it, but he fell for me first. Followed me around like I’d just discovered fire."

Logan nodded slowly, not doubting her last words. He was starting to understand why her Wolverine had fallen first.

"You could always try convincing that loudmouth Wade to take you with him to his timeline if you survive this suicide mission."

"Don’t you want to go back?"

"There’s nothing to go back to."

Shee remembered his conversation with Laura and wanted to return the favor by quieting his demons.

Shee stood up, took the bottle from his hands, and took a swig that made her close his eyes. God, it had been so long since she’d done this that she feared he might lose control completely. She looked down at him and saw fury cloud his gaze once more. Despite knowing it might cost her life, she did it anyway.

Grabbing his hands, she straddled his lap, her face inches from his. Despite the alcohol, he smelled like him—like Logan, like home. A shaky sigh escaped her lips as she heard him curse.

"Look, I’m flattered, and I’m going to regret saying this, but I don’t think this is what you want."

Grace understood where Logan’s train of thought was going when she felt something beneath her. She bit her lip to stifle the laughter that was about to escape her throat and looked seriously into his eyes.

"I think it’s something we both want, Logan. Since when are you such a gentleman?"

He seemed to be fighting an internal battle, but his hands quickly moved to grip her hips, pulling her closer to him, losing his composure.

"I’m trying not to be the worst Wolverine, but you’re not making it easy, sweetheart."

"Well, I thought you’d be happy to see me, Bub," she said, giving him a look that suggested exactly what the mutant was thinking, and she rolled her hips, making Wolverine growl. His grip on her hips tightened to stop her.

"You’re going to kill me, you know that," he said, she was marveled at the smug smile that transformed his features completely. She felt the need to kiss him, but she didn’t.

Logan was confused by the inevitable attraction he felt for her, as if she were made of some kind of magnet that irresistibly drew his adamantium skeleton. He had a fleeting thought that she was somehow made for him, even though moments ago they were about to kill each other. He remembered Wade’s words, and a sigh escaped his lips: She’s your soulmate.

Grace laughed, unaware of the battle the mutant was fighting. She raised her hands to cup both sides of his face and closed her eyes, comforted by his warmth. Maybe, if they made it out alive, she’d seriously consider the suggestion she was straddling.

"Well, Logan, be patient; it’s been a long time since I’ve done this."

She shifted in her seat, earning another muffled groan from him.

"I’m a bit out of practice too, but I’m sure we’ll figure out how to make it wor—" He suddenly stopped when he felt Grace’s presence in his mind, much more abrupt than he remembered Charles ever being. "What the hell?"

Grace navigated through Logan’s memories and found the place where he hid from all the pain. Still, she could hear everything that tormented and haunted him.

"Let me return the favor. Let me make you free for a moment, Logan."

Suddenly, everything went quiet in his head—the screams, the memories, everything that made him want to give up. He let out a satisfied sigh, feeling at peace. Besides pushing away the thoughts, Grace had poured a thousand emotions into him, serving as a balm for his torments. He could feel all the love the girl held inside, the joy, and the hope.

He let his head drop until their foreheads rested together. Grace used the moment to comfort herself one last time with the presence of the person she had loved the most. On the other hand, Logan reveled in the feeling of not having the weight on his shoulders, grateful for the favor.

"Thank you for giving me this moment, Logan. It’s the best thing I’ve had in a long time."

Logan couldn’t speak. He was so overwhelmed with happiness that he felt overpowered, in a good way. He just nodded slowly.

"When Logan had nightmares, I used to keep them away so he could sleep. Why don’t you do the same, big guy? You look tired."

He nodded again as she got up from his lap and helped him lie down. As she was about to leave, Logan’s hand closed around her wrist like a shackle, stopping her. He needed her, her company, and he felt that she needed him too.

"You could stay. If you want."

Without responding, she nodded too, lying down beside him and stroking his hair until his breathing became deep. She watched as, with his relaxed face, he looked even more like her Logan.

"Goodbye, Logan," she whispered before falling completely asleep, comforted by the warmth that made her feel at home for the last time.