Hearts Entwined And Torn Part 2

“Hearts Entwined and Torn”– Part 2

**Summary:**

After a mission goes awry, Amber faces blame from the X-Men and becomes increasingly isolated. Her emotional state deteriorates, leading to a panic attack that goes unnoticed, further deepening her sense of abandonment.

TRIGGER WARNING: Panic Attack

The weeks had turned into months, and the tension in the X-Mansion had only grown more palpable. Amber had buried herself in her duties, meticulously avoiding any personal interaction with Logan and Jean. Her interactions with them were curt and minimal, and she deliberately kept her distance. The mansion, once a sanctuary, had become a place of strained civility, where every glance and word seemed laden with unspoken resentment.

One fateful morning, the X-Men gathered for their mission briefing. The team was tasked with neutralizing a dangerous mutant causing havoc in a nearby city. The briefing was efficient and precise, but the usual camaraderie was absent. Amber and Jean were paired together for the mission due to an administrative mix-up, a situation that left Amber seething inwardly.

As the Blackbird soared through the night sky, the atmosphere in the cabin was fraught with tension. Amber sat at the far end of the cabin, her eyes fixed on the mission brief displayed on her tablet, pointedly ignoring Jean. Jean, too, avoided eye contact, her expression tense as she reviewed the mission parameters. The air was thick with unspoken animosity, and the silence was almost tangible.

The battle in the city was as brutal as it was chaotic. The mutant they faced was a formidable energy manipulator, able to project devastating blasts with precision. Despite their combined efforts, the mutant’s power was overwhelming. Amber and Jean found themselves cornered, their movements a strained dance of evasion and counterattacks.

“Watch out!” Amber shouted as the mutant launched another energy blast. She raised a protective shield just in time, but the mutant’s accuracy was deadly. Jean attempted to counter the blast with her telekinesis, but the force was too great, and her defenses buckled under the pressure.

A massive burst of energy hit Jean, sending her crashing into a nearby building. Amber’s attempt to shield her was too late; the blast had already struck its target. The shockwave threw Amber to the ground, and she scrambled to her feet, heart pounding.

The X-Men quickly subdued the mutant, but their focus soon shifted to Jean, who lay unconscious and injured amidst the rubble. The team rushed to her side, their expressions turning grim as they assessed her condition.

Storm knelt beside Jean, her voice steady but her eyes betraying her concern. “She’s hurt badly. We need to get her back to the mansion immediately.”

As the team gathered around Jean, Logan’s gaze shifted to Amber. His frustration was palpable. “Amber, why didn’t you do more to protect Jean?”

Amber’s eyes flashed with a mix of anger and disbelief. “I was doing my best, Logan. It wasn’t my fault.”

Logan’s face hardened, his lack of sympathy clear. “You were supposed to be her partner. If you had been more focused, this might not have happened.”

The rest of the X-Men murmured among themselves, the atmosphere thick with accusations. “If Amber had been more committed, this wouldn’t have happened,” said Kurt Wagner, also known as Nightcrawler. “She clearly has issues with Jean.”

Logan nodded in agreement. “It’s possible Amber’s personal feelings affected her performance,” he said, his voice lacking conviction.

Amber’s heart sank as she heard the murmurs of blame. The isolation she felt was suffocating. The mansion, once a home, now seemed like a prison. The cold stares and whispered accusations made her feel like a pariah.

In the medical bay, Hank McCoy worked tirelessly to stabilize Jean. Logan paced the room, clearly frustrated, but not showing any particular sympathy for Amber. Rogue, standing beside Hank, occasionally glanced at Amber with a mix of pity and suspicion.

Hank finally emerged from the operating room, his expression grave. “Jean’s stable for now, but her injuries are severe. She’ll need a long recovery.”

The team’s whispers grew louder, their accusatory tones more pronounced. “It’s clear Amber’s personal issues with Jean affected her performance,” Rogue said quietly. “She should have done more.”

Despite the growing chorus of blame, Amber remained isolated. The mansion’s communal areas became places she avoided, and she retreated to her room for meals and solitude. The once-familiar routines felt alien, and the growing divide between herself and the team was evident.

The isolation began to take its toll on Amber. Each day felt like a relentless wave of anxiety and despair, crashing over her and dragging her deeper into a state of emotional numbness. The whispers and accusations reverberated in her mind, fueling a growing sense of dread.

One evening, after another strained interaction with the team, Amber retreated to her room, the weight of the day pressing heavily on her shoulders. Her anxiety was a constant, gnawing presence, and it only intensified as she closed the door behind her. She sat on the edge of her bed, her hands trembling as she tried to steady her breathing.

Her thoughts spiraled uncontrollably, a chaotic mix of guilt, shame, and loneliness. She felt trapped in a nightmare where every misstep seemed magnified and every failure insurmountable. The walls of her room felt like they were closing in, and her chest tightened with the onset of an anxiety attack.

Amber’s breathing grew rapid and shallow, her vision blurring as the room seemed to spin around her. Her hands clutched her chest, trying in vain to calm the storm inside. The panic was overwhelming, and she struggled to get a grip on her racing thoughts. Tears streamed down her face as she gasped for air, her mind screaming for relief.

Her vision darkened at the edges, and she felt a dizzying sensation that only compounded her fear. Her heart raced uncontrollably, and she felt herself slipping away from consciousness. With a final, anguished cry, she collapsed onto the bed, her body limp and unresponsive.

The room was eerily silent, the only sound the faint hum of the mansion’s machinery outside her door. No one came to check on her, and the isolation was complete. The mansion, once a place of camaraderie, had become a realm of loneliness where Amber’s suffering went unnoticed.

Hours later, when she finally regained consciousness, she found herself alone. The initial shock of her panic attack had subsided, leaving her feeling exhausted and hollow. The room was dark, and the only light came from a faint glow outside the window. Amber lay still on her bed, her body aching and her mind in a fog.

In the days that followed, Amber’s presence in the mansion became increasingly ghost-like. Her attempts to engage with the team were met with stony silence or outright dismissal. When she tried to join conversations, her words seemed to vanish into the air, unnoticed and unacknowledged. The X-Men acted as though she was invisible, their conversations continuing without pause as if she were not there.

One day in the common room, Amber tried to join a discussion about an upcoming mission. She approached the group with a tentative “Hey, can I—” but was cut off by a sudden, intentional shift in the conversation. The team members, including Logan and Jean, turned their backs or began speaking over her, ignoring her presence entirely.

Amber’s attempts to interact with the team were met with a consistent pattern of cold indifference. If she tried to speak up during meetings, her comments were dismissed or overlooked. When she passed by, conversations would pause abruptly, only to resume in hushed tones once she had moved on. The isolation was not just emotional but social; Amber was increasingly relegated to the periphery of the team’s life.

The once-vibrant communal spaces became places where Amber felt like a mere observer. She sat alone in the cafeteria, her meals untouched as she watched the others interact, their laughter and camaraderie a painful reminder of what she had lost. Even in the midst of the team, she felt like a ghost, her existence ignored and her presence unacknowledged.

Despite her growing despair, Amber continued to perform her duties with the same precision she always had. Her work remained impeccable, but her interactions were now reduced to the bare minimum required. The team’s continued avoidance only deepened her sense of abandonment, and she felt increasingly trapped in a cycle of isolation and emotional numbness.

Amber’s isolation was now complete. The mansion, once a place of shared experiences and connections, had become a realm of solitude where she was left to grapple with her pain and loneliness. The team’s unintentional but deliberate exclusion was a constant reminder of the chasm that had grown between her and those she once called friends.

@fulltigertaco-blog

“Bully” 18+

(I’ve clearly put no thought into the title but oh well🤷🏽‍♀️).

Logan's eyes twinkled with a mix of mischief and devotion as he pulled Lilly closer, their bodies pressing together on the soft bed. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting gentle shadows on the walls.

He trailed kisses along Lilly's jawline, moving slowly, savoring every inch of her skin. His hands roamed gently, yet possessively, over her back, drawing shivers in her wake.

"You know," Logan murmured against her ear, his voice a low rumble, "I've been thinking about this all day."

Lilly's breath hitched, anticipation curling in her stomach. Logan's lips found hers in a slow, languid kiss that spoke of his growing desire. He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her heart race.

"Lie back for me," he whispered, his tone soft but commanding. There was no room for argument, not that Lilly wanted to.

As she settled back onto the pillows, Logan's gaze never left hers. He took his time, kissing a path down her neck, pausing at her collarbone to nibble gently.

Lilly's fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on, but he was in no hurry.

When he reached the hem of her shirt, he paused, his fingers brushing the fabric. "May I?" he asked, his voice husky.

With a nod of permission, Logan slowly removed the garment, his eyes darkening with desire as more of Lilly's skin was revealed. He kissed lower, his lips and tongue tracing patterns that made her skin tingle and her breathing uneven.

He paused just above the waistband of her pants, looking up with a playful grin. "I love making you feel good," he said softly, his fingers already working to undo the button.

With Lilly's pants now discarded, Logan positioned himself between her legs, his hands caressing her thighs with a reverence that made her heart swell. He leaned in, pressing a kiss just above her knee, then another, slowly working his way higher.

The anticipation built with each kiss, each touch, until finally, he reached his destination. His eyes met hers once more, a promise of pleasure in his gaze.

"You like this, don't you?" he teased, his breath hot against her skin. "My little slut."

Lilly's heart pounded, a flush spreading across her cheeks at his words. Logan smirked, clearly enjoying her reaction. "Yeah, you love it," he continued, his voice a low growl. "And I love making you feel this way."

As he began to pleasure Lilly, her body reacted immediately, a flood of wetness betraying her arousal.

She felt a surge of embarrassment, her cheeks burning, but Logan only chuckled, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"So wet for me already," he murmured against her skin. "Don't be embarrassed. It just shows how much you need this."

His touch was relentless, each movement calculated to drive her wild. Lilly couldn't help the noises escaping her lips-soft moans that grew louder with each passing moment. The embarrassment faded, replaced by a building wave of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her. Logan's hands and mouth worked together in perfect harmony, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

Her body quivered with each climax, her moans turning into desperate cries of pleasure. By the fifth climax, her leg began to shake uncontrollably, a visible sign of her body's surrender to the overwhelming sensations. Logan's mouth and hands didn't relent, continuing to drive her higher and higher.

Lilly's eyes rolled back into her head, her entire body tensing as she reached another peak. Tears streamed down her cheeks from the intensity of the pleasure, her cries echoing in the room.

By the time Logan was done, she was a crying mess, her leg still twitching, and her body limp from the intensity. He moved up to kiss away her tears, his expression softening with affection.

"You're amazing," he whispered, holding her close.

"You did so well."

Need Logan to bully my clit until I’m crying

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Austin Butler Chinese Martial Arts training with Roger Yuan for ‘Dune: Part Two’ 💥🔥💥🔥💥

Credit to https://m.weibo.cn/status/5014895407663038?jumpfrom=weibocom

Growing Pains

Summary: On a mission gone wrong, Rogue is transformed into a five-year-old girl. Logan, stepping into an unexpected role, must care for her until a cure can be found, forging a bond that will forever change their relationship.

The mission had been straightforward—or at least it was supposed to be. Infiltrate the lab, shut it down, and get out. But Logan knew better than to trust “straightforward” when it came to their line of work. He and Rogue had been paired up for this one, her powers making her a perfect counterbalance to his ferocity. They worked well together, two forces of nature who understood the danger and the stakes.

But nothing could have prepared Logan for what happened next.

They had been moving through the labyrinthine corridors of the underground lab, the faint hum of machinery all around them. Rogue was beside him, her gloved hands ready to absorb whatever threat came their way. The tension in the air was palpable, every shadow a potential enemy.

Then they found the heart of the lab—a large, sterile room filled with advanced technology that Logan couldn’t even begin to understand. At the center of it all was a scientist, his back turned to them, frantically working at a console.

Logan acted on instinct, charging forward with a growl. But the scientist was ready. He slammed his hand down on a button, and the room was suddenly flooded with an intense, blinding light. Logan’s senses went haywire, his claws still extended as he tried to reach Rogue.

“Rogue!” he shouted, but his voice was swallowed by the light.

Then, just as suddenly, it was over. The light faded, and Logan blinked away the spots in his vision. The lab was silent. Too silent.

He looked around frantically for Rogue, his heart pounding in his chest. Then he saw her—only it wasn’t her. Not exactly.

A little girl, no older than five, sat on the floor where Rogue had been. She had auburn hair that was wild and tangled, and her big, green eyes were filled with tears. Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he realized what had happened.

“Rogue?” he asked, his voice low and rough, hoping against hope that he was wrong.

The little girl looked up at him, sniffling. “L-Logan?” she whimpered, her voice small and scared.

Logan felt like the ground had dropped out from under him. Somehow, that bastard scientist had turned Rogue into a child. He didn’t know how, and right now, he didn’t care. All that mattered was getting her out of here and figuring out how to fix this.

“Don’t worry, kid,” Logan said, forcing his voice to stay steady. “I’m here. I’m gonna get you outta here.”

He scooped her up into his arms, and she immediately clung to him, her small hands gripping his jacket like a lifeline. She was so light, so vulnerable, and it made something deep inside Logan twist painfully. He had always been protective of Rogue, but this was different. This was like someone had taken his fierce, independent teammate and replaced her with something fragile and scared.

He made it out of the lab and back to the Blackbird in record time, his thoughts racing. He radioed ahead to the mansion, his voice urgent as he spoke to Beast.

“Hank, we got a situation. Rogue’s been hit by some kind of device—turned her into a kid. I’m bringing her back. Get the medbay ready.”

“Understood, Logan. We’ll be ready when you arrive,” Beast’s voice crackled through the communicator, calm and professional, but Logan could hear the concern beneath the surface.

The flight back to the mansion was silent, Rogue curled up against Logan’s chest. She had stopped crying, but her small body trembled with fear. Logan didn’t say anything, just held her close, his mind churning with thoughts he couldn’t begin to untangle.

When they finally landed, the team was waiting for them, anxiety etched into every face. Beast rushed forward, his blue-furred face serious as he reached out to take Rogue.

“We need to run some tests, Logan. This might be reversible, but we need to understand what we’re dealing with,” Beast said gently, trying to take Rogue from Logan’s arms.

But the moment Beast touched her, Rogue panicked. She let out a frightened cry and buried her face in Logan’s chest, clutching him even tighter. “No! Don’t leave me, Daddy!”

The words stopped everyone in their tracks. Logan felt his heart skip a beat, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. Daddy. The word echoed in his mind, a strange mix of emotions flooding through him. He wasn’t her father, and she knew that. But right now, she wasn’t thinking straight. She was scared and confused, and he was the only thing that felt safe to her.

“It’s okay, kid,” Logan said softly, rubbing her back with one large, calloused hand. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Beast hesitated, then nodded, stepping back. “We’ll give you some time to get her settled, Logan. When she’s ready, we’ll start the tests.”

Logan nodded in return, grateful for Beast’s understanding. He carried Rogue inside, the rest of the team watching with a mix of sympathy and concern. He didn’t stop until he reached his own room, pushing the door open with his shoulder and stepping inside.

“Let’s get you settled, okay?” Logan murmured as he gently set her down on the bed. But as soon as he tried to pull away, Rogue grabbed his hand, her eyes wide with fear.

“Please don’t leave me, Daddy,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Logan swallowed hard, feeling a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain. He wasn’t cut out for this—caring for a kid, especially not one who had been a grown woman just hours ago. But he couldn’t deny the look in her eyes, the way she seemed so small and helpless.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, sitting down beside her on the bed. He pulled off his boots and jacket, then lay down next to her, keeping a safe distance but close enough that she could still hold onto him.

Rogue immediately curled up against his side, her small body fitting perfectly into the curve of his arm. Logan hesitated, then wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. She let out a small sigh and closed her eyes, exhaustion finally catching up with her.

Logan lay there, staring up at the ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. This was temporary. It had to be. But until they found a way to fix this, he was all she had. And right now, she needed him.

The days turned into weeks, and Logan quickly fell into a routine he never thought he’d experience. Taking care of Rogue—no, taking care of a five-year-old Rogue—was a challenge like no other. She was still Rogue, still had that spark in her eyes and that stubborn streak a mile wide, but she was also a scared little girl who clung to him like a lifeline.

She called him “Daddy” every day now, and every time she did, Logan felt a strange mix of warmth and confusion. It was weird, but he couldn’t bring himself to correct her. If it helped her feel safe, he could deal with it.

Mornings started with breakfast, where Logan quickly learned that Rogue had a sweet tooth. Pancakes became a regular staple, and he found himself learning how to make them from scratch just to see her smile. Then came the playtime, where she’d drag him into games of hide and seek or ask him to read her stories. Logan had never read so many children’s books in his life, but the way her eyes lit up made it worth it.

Nights were the hardest. Rogue had nightmares almost every night, waking up in a cold sweat and crying for him. Logan would hold her close, whispering that she was safe, that he was there, until she calmed down and fell back asleep. He didn’t sleep much himself, always on edge, always worrying about her.

The X-Men did what they could to help, but it was clear that Rogue only wanted Logan. Even Jean and Ororo, who had always been close to her, couldn’t get through the wall of fear and confusion that kept her glued to Logan’s side.

Weeks turned into months, and still, there was no sign of a cure. Beast worked tirelessly, but the process was slow, and each day felt like a year. Logan found himself growing more attached to the little girl Rogue had become, even as he longed for the day she’d be back to her old self.

One night, after another nightmare, Rogue clung to Logan, her small hands gripping his shirt as she buried her face in his chest. “Daddy, will I ever be big again?” she asked, her voice muffled against him.

Logan felt his heart clench. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to promise her something he wasn’t sure of. But he couldn’t let her down. Not now.

“Yeah, kid. We’ll figure it out. I promise,” he said softly, stroking her hair.

She sniffled, looking up at him with those big green eyes. “But…you’ll still be my daddy, right? Even when I’m big again?”

Logan hesitated, the weight of her words pressing down on him. She was scared of losing this connection, scared of losing him. And he realized, with a pang of surprise, that he didn’t want to lose it either.

He can quench any thirst I have🫢

Yup

Logan Howlett HeadCanons

(Logan really needs a Hug.)

Logan was sprawled on the couch in their cozy living room, feeling more worn out than usual. The recent battle with Omega Red had taken a toll on him, and though the antidote was working, his body still felt heavy and sore. Dixie, his girlfriend, had been an incredible support, caring for him with tender attention.

She had just returned from fetching his favorite foods, and as she entered the room, she saw Logan’s weary eyes and slumped posture. Her heart ached for him, knowing how hard it was for him to let his guard down.

“Hey, Dixie,” Logan started, his voice low and hesitant. He shifted on the couch, glancing at her. “Could you… come over here for a minute? I could really use some company.”

Dixie’s heart melted at his vulnerable request. She walked over to him, her movements gentle. Without a word, she settled beside him, her presence a comforting balm. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace.

Logan stiffened at first but soon relaxed into her hold, letting the tension seep out of his muscles. He buried his face in her shoulder, the exhaustion of the past few days mingling with a profound sense of relief. Dixie held him close, her fingers tracing soothing patterns on his back.

The room was silent except for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional sigh from Logan. Dixie whispered soothingly, her voice a tender murmur in his ear. “I’m here, Logan. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

Logan grunted softly, his grip tightening around her as he let himself fully embrace the comfort she offered. “Thanks, Dixie,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I needed this.”

She smiled against his hair, feeling a deep satisfaction in being able to offer him the solace he needed. As they sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in their own quiet sanctuary.

For Logan, it was a rare moment of peace, one that reminded him how much he valued having Dixie by his side. And for Dixie, it was a quiet affirmation of the strength of their bond, something that could heal even the most worn-out soul.