It Only Takes One Second: A Logan Howlett X Fem!Reader Story

(Part: 2) Nightmares

WARNINGS: Mentions of Traumatic experiences (Car crash), Mentions of Anxiety, Mentions of Nightmares, Fluff

Walking into the school left you with a peculiar feeling, almost a sense of calmness. The school was old and worn, but comfortable as you entered the entrance doors, the man you had just met following close behind. The large room was empty, with no students wandering the hallways. Just a room with a set of stairs that split in the middle leading up on either side.

The sound of a small motor echoed through the room, quickly catching your attention. As you crank your neck to the right, you are greeted with a large smile and crinkled eyes. A friendly-looking gentleman rolled towards you in an electric wheelchair, his clothes displayed a professional appearance, a simple suit, and tie. He is bald and slightly aged, maybe in his 50's or 60's.

He watches your eyes and without speaking you hear his voice. He was speaking directly to you in your mind, a private conversation, leaving out the first man who welcomed you in. "Hello, (Y/N). Welcome to the school for the gifted. I've been waiting for your arrival, and I'm delighted to see that you made it here safely." Your eyebrows furrow together as you give the man a strange look mixed with intrigue and fear. 'How in the hell is he in my mind' you think to yourself, jumping when he inevitably replies. "I am a telepath, my dear. I can hear your thoughts just the same as I allow you to hear mine. You see, every person here has a unique gift. Mine just happens to be telepathy. My friend over here, Logan, can grow a set of claws from his knuckles and has an astonishing ability to regenerate." He nods toward the man you now know as Logan.

Logan shakes his head and scoffs, realizing the internal conversation has mentioned him. "You know, professor, you could introduce people with real words. Just regular talking is an option that most prefer." He smirks at you, waiting for a response that he can hear. The professor looks between the both of you, giving a gentle smile. "Well then, (Y/N), this is Logan, Logan, (Y/N). And since you are so interested in the conversation, my boy, I am tasking you with assisting our dear (Y/N) in finding a room." Once again Logan scoffs at the older gentleman. His gruff exterior seems to match his personality just the same. "I've got things to do. I was just in the middle of something very important, world-saving even." The professor watches Logan intently, inserting himself into his mind. "Whatever it is can wait. Help her now, please." You watch both of them have their silent exchange before Logan sighs and turns to you.

The professor rolls his chair towards you, gently taking your hands into his. "Take your time settling in, my dear. Logan will give you a tour of the school. When you're ready, please join me in my study and we will discuss everything that's on your mind." You softly smile down at him, feeling safe from his endearing approach. You whisper a quiet, "Thank you." before he rolls down the hallway. You turn to face Logan and that feeling of safety quickly dissipates under his stern eyes. He takes a few large strides toward you, making your heart race, but he only brushes passed you. He turns around, watching you stand completely still. "You coming, bub?" You gather your bearings and give him a subtle nod before following suit.

The day goes by with little words shared between Logan and you. He guided you through the halls, showing you where you would be staying, then the kitchen, the gardens, and finally the training center. At the end of the long hallway was a large circular metal door with an X across its front. He told you the room was called Cerebro and that it was strictly off-limits to anyone but the professor. You didn't question him and silently followed along. He left you by your bedroom door when he had finished the tour. His eyes slyly glanced back while he rounded the corner, completely unnoticed by you as you entered your bedroom, throwing yourself on the twin-sized bed.

You breathed in deeply while you lay face down on the mattress. Dust and the smell of oak filled your nose while a hint of something else you couldn't put your finger on mingled with the scents. Your eyes began to feel heavy, after all, you had endured a long tiring, journey to make it here. And for the first time in weeks, you felt nothing. Nothing at all. You welcomed the feeling as it began to lull you into a gentle sleep, deep rhythmic breaths turned into soft snores as you finally rest.

As you slept, fleeting images formed in your mind. Your car falls further and further, water flooding your mouth and nose as you gasp for air. You could feel your body being thrashed around as rigid rocks tore through your flesh while the merciless waters pulled you under. You scream, only for them to be muffled by water filling your lungs, leaving you close to death as you suffocate.

And then you wake up.

You shoot up from the bed, still screaming as you panic from the nightmare. A sheen layer of sweat coats your skin, making your hair stick to your forehead, while your breathing is labored as you try to ground yourself in the real world. The world where the traumatic experience had become something of the past, and you came out alive and well. As you continue to try to comfort yourself, you don't notice the whirlwind of air blowing through your hair and on your skin. Tears begin to break from your eyes as you cradle your knees into your chest, resting your head on them. The wind begins to harshen as you sob, it shakes your bedframe and the dresser on the other side of the room, making them scrape across the old floorboards.

Your door flings open. Its Logan. He covers his face in the crook of his arm, while the winds lash at him relentlessly. He takes heavy steps forward, combating the force that tries to push him back. When he finally approaches you, he places his large hands on your shoulders, pulling you towards him. "(Y/N)!" he practically yells your name, trying to pull you from your current state, but it's muffled by the aggressive whooshing of air. He shakes you, finally able to make contact. As your eyes meet him, you can't see his face through the thick tears that pool in them. "(Y/N), you're okay! Hey, Hey I'm here, you're okay."

The winds begin to slow as you hear his voice. You look down at your hands, seeing them turn white as they ball into tight fists. You let out one last strangled sob and then everything goes quiet. The room is calm, as the furniture halts in its place. Logan continues, to hold your shoulders, watching your face intently. Your body feels exhausted and you're lightheaded by the end of everything, causing you to collapse into his arms. He catches you, gently pushing you up so that he can meet your eyes. "(Y/N), what happened?" he asks, searching your face. Once again, tears begin to break from your eyes, staining your cheeks as they drip onto his forearm.

"I'm sorry." you choke, looking down and resisting his heavy eye contact. "I'm so sorry. I had a nightmare." Logan frowns, and deep creases begin to form on his forehead as he debates his next moves. He was definitely no stranger to nightmares, in fact, he was well accustomed to them. You feel a lump form in your throat, preparing yourself for his imminent scolding, but it never comes. He hangs onto you as he racks his brain for what he wants to say. He finally settles on comforting you through this time of need. "Y'know, I have nightmares too."