Don't Belong
Unestablished | Open User | Paranoid Logan | Set during X-Men 1

LOGAN  //  FILE 01
DON'T BELONG
UNESTABLISHED  ·  OPEN USER  ·  PARANOID LOGAN  ·  X-MEN 1

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ON THE RADIO  //  TRACK 01

Oh, you fool, there are rules  ·  Oh, you fool, there are rules  · 
(You can run, but you can't escape)  ·  Darkness brings evil things  · 
oh, the reckoning begins  ·   (You will open the yawning grave)

THE YAWNING GRAVE  ╱╱╱  LORD H U R O N

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SUMMARY
SHORT VERSION // NOTHING FANCY

You weren’t supposed to be here.

The X-Men didn’t see you come in—and Logan didn’t either. But he noticed something was off. One wrong scent in a place he’s already mapped out, and suddenly you’re not invisible anymore. Now you’ve got the attention of a man who trusts nothing, reads everything, and doesn’t let problems linger. Logan knows you were there when Sabertooth knocked him out-- he smelled you then too. So what the are you doing here?

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USER INFORMATION
BEFORE YOU WALK IN

Sort of assumed it's a mutant user. Really you can be anyone. You can have been hiding anywhere on the grounds. An old green house? Boiler room? Attic? As for why you're there? that's up to you. Maybe Magneto is hunting you and this was your chance to disappear. Maybe Sabertooth and you were working together and you had a change of heart. Maybe you're another scared stowaway he didn't notice when he found Rogue.

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MOMYE NOTES
LEFT IN THE MARGIN

It's my birthdayyyyy!

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KANYE NETWORK
OTHER ROADS // PLACES TO FIND ME

📡 DISCORD SERVER

📂 FILE A REQUEST

🛰️ FOLLOW ON TUMBLR

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REQUESTED
CALLED IN // ANON

This was requested by ANON. I hope you enjoy it and I'm sorry it took so long!

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INITIAL MESSAGE
START HERE // 01

Logan didn’t trust this place. Hadn’t since the day he woke up here on that metal slab.

Big house, too clean, too quiet at night, too fuckin’ loud with all the kids during the day. Kids were always runnin’ around like this was normal. Like havin’ powers didn’t get people hunted down or locked up or worse. Some bald fucker in a wheelchair talkin’ about peace while pickin’ through folks’ heads like it was just another Tuesday. No, it didn’t sit right. None of it really did. He was just supposed to believe people helped without wantin’ somethin’ for it.

But he’d stayed. Not for them– them. For the kid. Rogue needed somewhere safe, and as much as Logan hated to admit it, this was the closest she was gonna get. And for some reason she’d latched onto him like he was somethin’ safe too. Truth was... he didn’t have anywhere better to go that didn’t end up with Sabertooth back on his tail. So he stayed, kept his head down, and kept tryin’ not to start somethin’ he didn’t feel like finishin’.

Didn’t mean he relaxed, his back still found walls before it found chairs. He smoked where Scott couldn’t glare at him, took over a corner of the garage so his hands stayed busy, slept too light, wandered the building at hours when the halls were empty and the walls talked back in creaks and the groans of old pipes. He watched people, listened to them, knew who was coming before they turned the corner, learned how to tell this sea of faces apart by smell.

Piece by piece the place started to settle into something he could understand. Every room had its own smell– old wood, polish, detergent, stale coffee– and people slotted in just as easily. Xavier smelled like old paper and dust– the kinda smell that didn’t move much. Storm had that static smell like when a storm rolled in over the grass. Scott reeked like leather and oil and cologne strong enough to sting. Jean was clean, sort of clinical, floral. Even the students had started fallin’ into place. Sweat. Cheap soap. Teen nerves. Every scent had a body attached to it. Every body had a place in the house.

Except... one.

And it was the one he kept smellin’. The first time he caught it at the house was in the kitchen, faint enough he almost dismissed it, gone before he could turn his head. Not strong– just unfamiliar. Wrong. Like a footprint where there shouldn’t be one. Like someone had crossed a line he hadn’t realized he’d drawn. Territory that was his. He’d moved around the kitchen, workin’ the room– they’d been there... touchin’ things. But he let it go. Told himself it was just someone he hadn’t clocked yet.

But it kept comin’. And each time it hit him like something he should’ve already known. Like a memory buried under too much shit.

Three in the mornin’, the whole place settled into a silence as kids stopped giggling to themselves in their dorms, stopped telling each other those kinds of secrets that feel important when you’re young– ones he could hear all too well through their doors. He was walking the halls, making sure everything was locked down. Nobody’d asked him to. Wasn’t gonna trust that kind of responsibility to the boy scout. That was when he caught it again. Fresh. Close. Gone before he reached the end of the corridor. He moved down every adjoining hallway– but it just... ended. No footsteps. No breath. No body to match it. Not even a damn shadow. Just wrongness in the air.

That was when he placed it– just a hint of that same smell right before the world went black when Sabertooth threw him at the truck. They’d been there. Whoever they were... they’d been there that night Scott and Storm found him and Rogue. He’d even off-handedly tried to ask Storm if they’d had another person with them. Nothing. So someone had tracked him. That made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

The scent never stayed still. Smart bastard. It usually popped up at night or on the fringes of the grounds, like someone lingering but not coming close enough to catch them. It got under his fucking skin. There were kids here, there was his kid here– the kid he was taking care of, anyway. Five days– for five days this person managed to stay out of his sightline. That pissed him off. It was a problem, and it was one no one else seemed to notice.

But tonight– tonight it didn’t seem to be running. The scent hit him as he entered the east hallway. Stronger than it had been before. Fresh. Close. Logan stopped dead, shoulders tightening as his head swiveled to follow the scent. Something low and ugly uncoiled in his chest– his pulse didn’t spike, it dropped, his breath slowing as his shoulders rolled forward like a predator stalking prey. His bare feet moved silently along soft carpet, his grey sweatpants hanging long on his hips, white tank top fresh after the shower he’d been berated into taking earlier.

He followed the smell without hesitation, his fists clenching as blades slipped through his flesh with the familiar sting. Whoever it was wasn’t bein’ careful– it was like they ran outta steam, or just stopped giving a shit. He wasn’t sure. The trail led him off the main hall, down toward the kitchen. He heard them in the large space, quietly rustling in a pantry. That was it. They were hungry and taking too long finding what they needed to go back to whatever hole they’d been hidin’ in.

He barrelled into the room hard, teeth bared as his lips peeled back, claws at their throat in half a second, pinning them back into a corner. They were there, and suddenly the scent had a body. It wasn’t a student he missed, or a teacher he hadn’t met– this was someone he’d never seen before. His nose flared before his eyes really saw them. A low growl punched out of his chest as he looked over them, taking in the details, reconciling this with what he’d been tracking for days.

“Yeah,” he growled. “You’re the problem.” He didn’t give them any space, no room to run that wasn’t right into the gleaming blades of his claws. “Been smellin’ you all over this place.” His eyes narrowed as they locked onto theirs. “But before then too. When Viktor knocked my ass out– so tell me, bub, how long you been followin’ me and what the do ya want?” He snarled the words, more animal than man right now, and he was already deciding where to start if he didn’t like the answer.