#it's missing x1 hours

[hyper-fixates]

Time After Time

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x AFAB!reader (no pronouns/gendered language).

Explicit content (18+)

Word count: 15.2k never let me near him again

Tags/warnings: age-gap due to logan’s mutation (reader’s age not specified), mutant!reader, unprotected sex, teasing, friends to lovers, explicit language, dry humping, storm cameos, fluff, domesticity, the claws come out when he’s close (👁️👁️), detailed descriptions & scenes of nightmares/trauma/PTSD/panic attacks, one (1) ass smack, alcohol consumption, vomiting, biting/marking, angst, soft!logan, creampie, groping/touching, use of “baby” once, aftercare, yearning (kindly let me know if anything was missed!).

Summary: 4 times you end up in Logan’s bed, and the 1 time he does something about it.

Notes: this falls somewhere in between “which could mean nothing” and “we can fix each other” 🫡 (written with a mix of X1 & X2 logan!)

Your heart, despite always being alive and beating, sometimes wakes up before you.

You can feel it before your eyes even have a chance to open. It jolts your sleep-ridden body and collapses your lungs without giving your brain a chance to fight against it. Muscles and limbs feel lifeless and detached from your body, shaking from the sleep that your heart knows wasn’t completely dreamless.

You kick the blankets off of yourself and sit up in a panic, trying to regain some control of your sudden erratic breaths while bringing a lethargic hand to your heaving chest in hopes to ground yourself. It never works.

Maybe your ribs are shrinking and squeezing your lungs, making you delirious from the lack of oxygen, but you know that’s not the case. Your heart feels like it’s being squeezed and broken into a million tiny pieces.

No part of your body feels real, yet you keep your hand on your chest as firmly as you can, trying to focus on controlling the pounding of your heart that’s working so hard with each beat that it hurts. 

“Fuck. Fuck,” you choke out, feeling the tears finally breach and roll down your cheeks as your nervous system catches up to what’s happening.

 Panic. It’s all panic.

You can’t do anything but sit there and let the tears hit the freshly-washed fitted sheet on your bed. So you let it happen. Nothing can stop it.

Trauma is such a fickle thing. One moment you’re fine, and then the next, your heart is screaming at you and forcing your body to process something at 4 a.m. on a random Friday when all you wanted was some goddamn sleep.

There is no choice. Your mind doesn’t give you one.

The tremors subside slowly after a few minutes, giving you the feeling back to your arms and legs, albeit minimal.

You slide to sit at the edge of your bed, resting an elbow on your thigh and setting your chin into your palm with a defeated, yet shaky, huff. 

You look to your window and see that the sun hasn’t even started to rise yet. You’ll be up for the rest of the foreseeable morning, but there’s not much to do so early besides wander aimlessly and think…then think some more. 

You’re confident the professor isn’t even awake at this hour, which says enough about your state. You would typically go visit Storm for some comfort, but she’s been gone fuck-knows-where with Hank and Scott until Sunday at the latest. Thanks, Charles.

A questionable, and probably manic, decision comes to mind. One that’s only two doors down, one over from Storm.

Your impulsive feet make up your mind for you. The cold hardwood floor shocking you further into consciousness as if your heart didn’t do a good enough job.

You tiptoe a couple steps down the hall, forcing yourself to turn and face the large wooden door when you reach it. You just stand there staring at it, unknocking, analyzing the wood grains, suddenly very interested in what type of wood it is and what stain was used to—

“Uh. Are you okay?”

You refocus your eyes onto the man now standing in front of you in the doorway, adorning a barely-zipped school hoodie and black sweats.

“Huh?” You blink a few times, disoriented.

Logan quirks a brow, looking you up and down cautiously. “Are you okay?” He asks again, offering a look of concern—or maybe confusion—that you haven’t seen often. A look that’s never needed to be directed towards you.

You come back to yourself. ���But—I…didn’t knock,” you respond, looking equally as confused as him as you point to the door. 

He leans against the edge of the door, face softening. “I could smell you before you passed Storm’s room,” he clarifies, a hint of reluctance in his tone. Oh. 

You feel like a child who has just gained awareness, all too conscious of your situation.

“You’re…awake?” Is all you manage despite probably needing to say much more than that to explain just why exactly you’re standing outside Logan’s room at 4 a.m.

“So are you,” he counters with a curious look. “So let me ask again. Are you okay?” He locks his eyes on yours, probably in hopes to understand why the fuck you’re outside his room at 4 a.m.

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” you say, and it’s the truth. 

You should probably be embarrassed. You show up at Logan’s door unannounced, dressed in a flimsy shirt and matching sweats—thanks, Charles—that can’t fully hide the remaining quivers throughout your body.

Logan pulls his lips together at your admission. You can almost see the wheels turning in his head trying to figure you out.

“Can’t sleep?” He questions, but he knows he’s right.

“Yeah.” You don’t know why you’re making it Logan’s problem, though. Sure, he happens to be awake, but maybe this is all too personal to push on the guy who’s seemingly all pride and no solicitude most of the time.

It’s not that he’s not a good, nice guy, but you don’t know how you would define your relationship, or lack of.

You know each other well enough from existing in the same space over the past couple months, being part of the same “team”, but it’s nothing to call a close friendship like you and Storm. He’s a bit of a rare species in the mansion, not really lingering around.

He cocks his head in a half shrug, the soft points in his hair broken by sleep shake gently with the movement.

“I don’t think I can help you,” he says wearily. “I’m no better. Clearly.” He gestures between you, drawing attention to the fact that you’re both awake. The helpless cannot help the helpless.

“Oh—no, I’m not looking for help. I think I’m beyond that at this point,” you laugh but stop yourself short when Logan doesn’t follow. Tough crowd.

“I, uh, don’t actually know what I’m looking for,” you offer.

You knit your brows together in thought, still wondering why the fuck you’re here. Comfort? Entertainment? Some other unknown third thing?

“I’m not really used to Storm being gone for so long,” you admit. “I just feel…all over the place, I guess.”

Logan considers your vulnerability for a beat, eyes flicking to yours. “I can hear you sometimes,” he says, a knowing—almost sympathetic—look on his face. “We have the same problem.”

You go cold, any expression you had on your face sliding away. You wish the floor could swallow you right now. You know things have been getting worse recently, but you didn’t think anyone could hear that fact. Maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise from someone who could smell you from down the hallway.

He steps back, pulling his door open further. An invitation.

You don’t move right away. Could this be a false awakening? You’re not sure what you expected when you came to his door, but you also didn’t expect him to open it without you knocking, so you have to suspend disbelief for now. You figured he’d offer a few words of advice and dismiss you, or maybe even tell you to fuck off, but he opened his door wider for you. But you didn’t exactly think any of it through in the first place anyway.

You force your feet to carry you into Logan’s room. It’s not much different from yours; scarce belongings, minimal decor, a small work desk, brown curtains that are drawn back, and a bed. 

“Were you, uh…sleeping before I came?” You sit on the unmade bed, nothing noticeably different from it compared to yours.

He shuts the door quietly, moving to the small desk across the room and filing some scattered papers together neatly.

“Trying to,” he says, keeping his gaze on the desk.

Fucking duh. “Sorry if I disturbed you,” you wince to yourself. 

You see him briefly shake his head at your unnecessary apology. “I had to get up anyway.” His voice is still gravelly from sleep.

It feels like you’re invading his space. But he invited you in. How many others have had the opportunity to be in here? Probably too many. There’s nothing to make this special.

“I’m fucking exhausted,” you sigh, flopping back on his bed defeated. Simply overwhelmed with the uncontrollable repercussions of your mutation.

“Try to sleep. If you want,” he offers, moving to the edge of the bed. “It’s easier said than done, but I have to meet with Charles in an hour.” It’s gruff, but he’s sincere.  

Maybe the professor is awake after all.

You roll your head to the side to look at him. Was he really offering for you to stay in his bed?

“Oh, wow…uh, sure.” It comes off as more of a question, but he quirks his brows in acknowledgment, turning back to the desk and collecting a handful of other miscellaneous papers.

“I have to head downstairs and take care of some things. Stay as long as you need,” he says, zipping his sweater the rest of the way up. Thank God in heaven.

A shy “thanks” is all you manage as you situate yourself on the bed.

Is this fucking weird? You could name a handful of others in the mansion right this second that would kill without hesitation to be where you are. They’d probably kill you specifically to get it. It’s not much of a secret that Logan is the subject of almost all students’ desires. He knows it, too. 

“See you later,” he adds, his lips forming the slightest hint of a caring smile as he sees himself out. You throw one back before the door clicks shut.

Should you be offended that he didn’t stay? That he left so quickly? No, no, he can’t. He couldn’t. Charles is expecting him. The timing is just horrid. But now you’re just…alone…in Logan’s room, expected to sleep because of a random act of kindness in his heart.

Lying in his bed instead of yours is an odd sensation. The sheets and mattress are exactly the same, the pillows are just as fluffy, yet it feels unalike. 

You flop your head on his pillow, tugging the blankets up to your chin. Your fingers graze something by your hip as you settle in, making you push the blanket back down. Leaning over, you see three puncture marks in the mattress, fraying the bedsheet material into feather-soft strands around the deep holes.

Your eyes widen, remembering his words before he invited you in: “We have the same problem.”

Part of your heart fractures for the second time today. Your eyes cross over to the other side of you, seeing a matching set of holes just below the pillow. It’s suddenly easy to understand why no one besides him has been seen coming and going from this room in a while. One day, things just seemed to change. 

Maybe his act of kindness was an act of mercy. Trauma will always find you, and it will make sure you feel it until you either destroy it or it destroys you.

Even the Wolverine isn’t an exception. 

━━━━ ● ━━━━

The gold liquid is gone from the glass as quickly as it was poured.

Your throat clenches and protests the swallow as you try to suppress the urge to gag. You gently set the shot glass back on the counter, watching Storm chase with a piece of lime that does nothing to help the puckered face she makes from the tequila. 

“No more, no more. I can’t.” Your arms anchor you to the counter to stop yourself from swaying too much.

Storm nods, still fighting off the sourness with furrowed brows and a scrunched nose. You giggle at her when she quickly screws the cap back on the bottle, sliding it out of reach.

“You’re a bad influence,” she scolds as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“No—I’m under the influence,” you counter, a playful smile on your lips. “There’s a difference. You still have your own free will.”

Storm rolls her eyes so hard you only see the whites of them. “We have training tomorrow,” she slurs. “Charles will not be happy if we show up half-conscious.” She rounds the counter to you, grabbing your shoulders for stability, and you do the same.

“He’ll be lucky if we show up at all,” you mumble. 

The dim kitchen lighting embraces the two of you, the rest of the mansion blanketed in darkness with everyone fast asleep—like you both should be.

You close your eyes with a roll of your neck, more giggles falling through your lips as you clumsily grab onto Storm and rock and sway together for a moment, the alcohol quickly catching up to your motor skills. It feels like you’re spinning through time and space, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel fucking euphoric. At this rate, neither of you will be able to make it back to your rooms.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You lose a bit of your balance as you try to find the resonant voice, eyes shooting open. Storm unintentionally startles and stumbles away from you, white hair also jumping from the excitement.

You grab onto the counter again, sucking in a deep breath. “Fuck, don’t do that,” you growl through your teeth, a hand on your chest as you try to calm yourself.

“Don’t do what? Come to the shared kitchen to grab a drink?” Logan huffs a laugh, an amused smile creeps to his lips as he takes in your drunk and shaken state from the entryway.

“Doesn’t anyone sleep in this place?” He mumbles to himself.

“And with that, I’m done for the night,” Storm chuckles, fixing her hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her eyes lock intensely on yours, index finger firmly poking the middle of your chest to make her point for you to show up to training very clear.

“See you, Logan,” she dismisses, stumbling as she passes him.

Logan shakes his head, still smiling. He steps to the fridge, opening the double doors and plucking a bottle of soda from the bottom shelf. No alcohol is readily available in the communal fridge because, after all, you’re all in a school full of kids, so Storm had to get creative; Scott will be missing a rather large bottle from the now not-so-secret stash in his room.

As the alcohol continues to settle in you, you feel more and more lightheaded as it brings you to a new level of euphoria again. You only know this because watching Logan pop the cap of his drink with mindless ease feels a little more exciting than it would be if you were sober. But you’re not sober, and that’s the problem.

“Not gonna follow Storm?” He asks, taking a generous sip from the bottle as he casually places his free hand on the counter to lean on across from you.

A tight smile forms, mostly to yourself. “I don’t think I can make it down the hall,” you laugh in embarrassment. Maybe that last shot was one too many, and it’s not even fully done working its magic yet.

Logan raises a brow. “Want some help?” There’s no judgement in his tone like you expect. Then again, you don’t know what the fuck to expect from him.

Your already half-closed eyes, blurry and unfocused, meet his hazel ones in interest. Another favour?

It’s been two weeks since he let you sleep off the nightmares in his bed. Two weeks since you learned he’s burdened with them, too. You traced the holes in the mattress over and over before you eventually fell asleep, wondering what—or who—could have hurt him so badly. He plays it off cool; you wouldn’t suspect anything from talking to him. The same could probably be said about you.

“I didn’t know wolverine’s were chivalrous,” you tease.

The yellow hue of the lights dance over the quaffed points in his hair, making them appear sharper than usual. You would never admit it, especially to him, but you adore them. They give him an absurd amount of character that you’d expect a guy like him to not care about. 

You’re not exactly complaining about the fitting grey tank-top he has on either.

“Not overly,” he plays along, taking another mouthful of the fizzy drink. “I like to think I’m special,” he says quieter.

“Maybe you are,” you say as you try and straighten yourself to see if you can stand unassisted.

The world tilts as you stand to your full height, eyes rolling into your head from the wave of dizziness. “Wow, okay,” you say to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the spinning. How many shots did you have again?

A warm hand presses between your shoulders. “Woah, nice and easy. Nice and easy.” Logan appears by your side to steady you, other hand grabbing your elbow to pull you straight. You wobble in his grip, letting him guide your useless, alcohol-ridden body.

His hand on your back rubs a few small, comforting circles as you work to regain your bearings. He watches your expressions intently, looking for the right moment to get you moving back to your room safe and sound.

Your arm crosses over your body out of instinct to grab the hand he has on your elbow for extra support.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He seems to ask you that a lot.

You lean into him, your shoulder to his chest, and you can feel the blackout creeping up on you like humidity from a thunderstorm—it’s usually too late to do anything once you notice it. 

“I drank a lot,” you laugh deeply, rolling your head onto his shoulder to look up at him.

He looks so much more delicate under the ambient lights—his usual defined features have shifted and melted him into someone that doesn’t look like they should be a feared animal out in the world.

Logan all but cradles you, that same look of concern crossing his features from the night you went to his door. The only difference is that you’ve had a generous amount of tequila—and are currently being kept alert by the hot touch of his hands. That’s new.

“Can you walk?” He holds your squinty eye contact, probably searching for any signs of a coherent thought behind the blissful expression on your face. “Or will I have to carry you?” He muses, a hint of a smile crosses his lips as his hand moves up to gently rub over your shoulders. 

Drunk you likes the sound of anything relating to Logan keeping his hands on you right now. You wonder what sober you would think.

“I’m not gonna tell you no, but it feels like I’m floating in a bubble that won’t stop spinning,” you hum as you let the sensation consume your senses. “I might fly away.” You dip your head back off of his shoulder in amusement as you laugh again. 

“Yeah, you’re fucked up,” he mumbles lovingly. Just like anyone else who’s concerned for your well-being would. 

“Hey, kitty cat—I’m perfectly buzzed,” you emphasize the teasing nickname, narrowing your eyes at him sternly as you bring your gaze back to his in defence.

“‘Kitty cat’? Really?” He snorts. “I think you’re past your bedtime by three drinks,” he remarks back with equal levity.

“Then take me to bed if you’re so concerned,” you sigh dramatically, going limp in his arms to make your point. 

Truthfully, you’re probably past your bedtime by five shots. But he doesn’t need to know that. You just know that you can’t control your limbs like you were able to ten minutes ago.

“Maybe I will.” You don’t see it, but he does his quick little eye roll that you’ve seen pointed towards Scott too many times. 

He slides the hand on your elbow down to the backs of your knees, pulling you up off the floor and into his chest as you fall into the arm that was rubbing your back. 

Oh, so it’s gonna be like that. 

An excited—or maybe shocked—noise escapes your mouth as he adjusts you in his arms. You extend your right arm up and over his shoulder to hug his neck and keep yourself stable.

The trip to your room isn’t one that should take long, but each sway from Logan’s steps goes straight to your stomach in waves of queasiness. It feels like forever before you feel him bend awkwardly to turn your doorknob.

You’re fighting to keep yourself conscious the entire time, not wanting to regret missing the feeling of being in his arms.

The room is only lit by the silver moonlight creeping through the window. It’s hard to distinguish anything through your bleary eyes besides Logan’s look of determination to get you in your bed.

He leans down, shuffling you out of his arms and onto the mattress as swiftly as possible. The care of it all pokes at your heart. 

He silently goes around each corner of the bed adjusting the blankets. It may be dark, but the moonlight highlights the peaks of his shoulders as he moves. Your eyes might be involuntarily half-shut, but that doesn’t stop you from staring.

You’re now probably no better than every other mutant in this school.

“Logan,” you start before you can fully process the foolish thing you’re about to say next.

He rounds the bed back to the side you’re huddled on, looking down on you. “Yeah?” The subtle jingle of his dog tag pierces the quiet that’s lingering in the room.

You part your lips to speak but the words die in your throat. They’re replaced by a flood of saliva that has you sitting up at a speed that shouldn’t be possible for someone as intoxicated as you. You cover your mouth with your hand, feeling your stomach churning and finally rejecting the tequila. 

You suddenly feel very awake.

“Hey, hey.” Logan squats down in front of you with his already permanently-furrowed brows pinched closer together than you’ve ever seen before, a hand coming to your shoulder in concern. “What—”

“Bathroom,” you mumble through your palm, eyes rolling shut at the nausea. 

He doesn’t say another word. He pulls you to your feet by your arms, walking behind you fiercely with his hands gripping your shoulders to guide you to the small bathroom across the room.  

You push the door open, falling to your knees in the darkness over the toilet as the mistakes from the night expel themselves from your body through rounds of coughing and gagging. He lingers in the doorway, keeping an eye on you but still giving you privacy.

“Fuck,” you cough, resting your warm forehead on your hand as you slump against the toilet. That definitely sobered you up fast.

Exhaustion hits you like a truck. “Logan…” you croak from your crumpled position on the tile floor. 

He steps in, bending down again to reach your height. You can barely make out the shadow of him in the fading moonlight.

“Just…help me back to bed,” you groan, reaching for his arm as you use the toilet seat to push yourself the rest of the way up. You stumble against him as you try to make it back through the doorway.

He guides you to the bed the same way he did to the bathroom—steering you from behind.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” he says as you settle back into bed, head hitting the pillow with a quiet thud. “Even though you did this to yourself.”

“Fuck off,” you groan.

You close your eyes, hearing his footsteps fade back toward the bathroom. You hear the tap run for a couple seconds before he’s next to you again, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Drink. All of it,” he says firmly, holding the cup out to you.

You sit back up slowly, no doubt lethargic, an unimpressed look on your face that earns you a raised brow that tells you there’s no room to object.

You finish the cup in four mouthfuls, handing it back to him. “Thanks.”

You fall back onto the pillow, no longer feeling like you’re travelling through space and time.

The clothes you’re in are close enough to pyjamas. There’s no sense in undressing in front of Logan, especially with what you were about to say to him before you were rudely interrupted by the consequences of your own actions.

He returns the cup to the bathroom and you pull the blanket over your waist as you hopefully settle in for the rest of the night. You owe him big time for this. The thought of just how exactly you’ll manage that fills you with anxiety.

You turn on your side, fingers sliding over the mattress with the movement. They graze familiar strands of feather-soft fabric by the pillow.

This is Logan’s room. Are you just that drunk that you couldn’t tell the difference when he brought you in? Or are your rooms just that similar to each other?

You dip a finger in one of the three holes, hearing the bathroom door click shut as Logan makes his way back. 

“Why am I in your bed?” You see him rustling through some drawers of clothing by the small desk, but he stops when you finish your question.

“You can’t take care of yourself tonight,” he says. “You’re too drunk.” He pulls the grey tank-top off, stuffing it in one of the drawers and shutting it.

You sit up at that, head still foggy and tipsy, watching him move to the foot of the bed across from you. You try to focus your eyes on anything but his bare chest and the dark hair that adorns it and trails down past the waistband of his sweats. His hair is somehow even more wild from mindlessly pulling the tank-top over his head.

“Ah. I was gonna ask you to stay anyway,” you reveal, almost whispering the bold confession.

You were planning to ask before the tequila decided to make another appearance, but maybe doing it this way isn’t so bad either. He did all the heavy-lifting.

A modest, tight-lipped smile graces his lips. “I think you still have some tequila to sleep off.”

Whether or not you still have some shots in your system, what you feel and want right now is real. It’s not influenced by anything besides some mild andronitis created by the fact that you share a common struggle.

“Is it…safe? To share a bed?” The most coherent thought you’ve had all night makes him stiffen from your sudden nervous tone. Your body could easily replace the mattress and become a new home for the deep punctures. 

Your eyelids have been fighting against being pulled shut by alcohol-induced drowsiness, yet your eyes are wider than they’ve been all night in this moment.

You’re sat right in the middle of the bed and Logan comes around to the right, sitting on the edge of the mattress to come down to your level.

“You’re just gonna have to trust me.” His eyes are imploring and apologetic all at once. He understands the prospect of even having you here in the first place.

You nod, sliding over to the left to give him more room. 

Logan wouldn’t put you in harms way, you reason with yourself. He wouldn’t risk potentially killing someone, especially a fellow mutant, if he wasn’t absolutely sure of his mental state. But you also don’t really know his demons.

You roll onto your right side, tugging the blanket up to your chin in comfort. “Why haven’t you been given a new mattress?” You ask as he turns to face you in the same position, his half of the blanket resting at his hip.

The bed dips significantly on his side, almost encouraging you to roll over against him.

“Forgot to ask,” he says quietly, running his right hand through his hair to push the shorter strands off his forehead.

From his tone you can decipher that he actually means “can’t be bothered.” It’s a devastating thing to imagine just how many he goes through, anyway. He probably doesn’t see the point in replacing something that will inevitably have the same fate as the others.

There has to be less than an arms length between you two. It’s a surreal situation to be in considering what you thought you knew about him. A recluse. Standoffish. Maybe it’s all a fluke and the alcohol is severely fucking with your perception of what’s actually happening.

“Thanks for everything,” you whisper as if someone else will overhear.

“Get some sleep,” he insists, rolling onto his back. You do the same.

You stare at the blank ceiling for a while, noticing the exact moment Logan falls asleep; his breathing grows slow and his body runs even hotter than before. 

You think about how he could wake at any moment, claws accidentally sliding right through your stomach from a nightmare or two. You imagine all the others that have been in your position—if they felt scared, if they even knew. 

He asked you to trust him, and that should be enough. 

There is a body full of secrets and hurt sleeping undisturbed next to you with the ability to withstand and regenerate from any physical injury, yet there’s something that hasn’t allowed the same to be done for his mind. 

━━━━

The bright amber sun hits your closed eyes through the window, making you roll your head away onto the other side of the cool pillow.

You want more sleep. Your head feels like a bag of bricks and your body feels like it got beat with them.

You stretch a leg out, gently grazing something solid with your foot. Your eyes shoot open, the night coming back to you as you drift into consciousness. Logan. 

You shoot up, bouncing a little from the momentum.

Logan startles next to you, clearly interrupted from a deep sleep. “What the fuck…” he groans, rubbing a hand over his face, not seeming interested in making a move to sit up with you.

“What time is it?” Your eyes bounce around the room looking for a clock.

He grunts, reaching for a watch on the nightstand. “Seven-forty.”

You needed to be in the Danger Room for 7 o’clock.

“Fuck!” You rip the blanket off, almost tripping as you run to the bathroom.

Logan also wants to roll back over and go back to sleep, but he knows he won’t be able to. He doesn’t work like that. So he just lays there, listening to you swear and make a mess of his bathroom as the clattering of fuck-knows-what fills the room. 

The surprise of how well he slept makes him feel uneasy. Although it definitely wasn’t eight hours, it was uninterrupted. He doesn’t want to credit that to you, though. He wants to believe that he’s getting better overall, and maybe he is, so he can’t offer you any flattery in his mind.

Another distant “fuck” escapes the bathroom, pulling him out of his thoughts. You exit a few minutes later, as refreshed and presentable as you could get yourself, and the sight of Logan still in bed makes something in you ache for another moment of feeling him care and tend to you. Maybe that’s your hangover talking.

“Thanks again. I’ll see you around,” you say hurriedly, offering an apologetic smile as you turn the doorknob to leave.

“Good luck with Charles.” It’s a genuine advisory. Fuck. You’ll be so incredibly lucky if he doesn’t give you more than a stern lecture in front of everyone.

You take a deep breath in and slip out of Logan’s room. There’s not a single cut, mark, or scratch on you, just like he promised.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

“I was told it’ll take a day to fix,” Storm explains with a shrug. “You’ll have to find somewhere or someone to room with until tomorrow. Jean already offered to have me stay with her.” A contrite look passes over her face.

You stand outside your rooms, staring in at the remnants of the mess caused by two terrakinetic kids fucking around in the courtyard when they weren’t supposed to be. They somehow managed to throw, or launch, sizeable tree branches right through each of your windows. Of course it wasn’t on purpose, but the Danger Room exists for a reason—to avoid mishaps like this. 

Shards of glass and fragments of wood splatter your floors. The branches are hanging half-way out both of your windows, caught on the window sills and bobbing in the evening summer wind. The kids are extremely fortunate that neither of you were in your rooms when it happened.

“It’s fine. It’s just one night,” you sigh, rubbing your eyes in frustration. You don’t love how quickly your mind picks out who to go to. It’s already nearing 11 p.m., so you have to work fast. 

Storm squeezes your shoulder in comfort. “The living room is always free,” she suggests with a remorseful smile.

But you don’t want the living room. Stiff couches mixed with students clamouring and passing by at the crack of dawn isn’t exactly a recipe for a good nights rest. As if you usually get one, anyway.

“Not a fucking chance,” you laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you say again, dismissing her worries. You wish her goodnight when she steps by you to head towards Jean’s room at the very end of the hall.

You glare at the mess in your room, not daring to step in. The amount of shattered glass everywhere makes the floor look like a body of water from the reflections of the pale moonlight bouncing and refracting off of the jagged shards.

“Fuck,” you spit through your teeth, solely to yourself.

Not even a full week after Logan saw you at your worst, you’re going to go back and ask for the left side of his bed. Shameless.

You don’t have much of a choice; you’re not comfortable having it be anyone else. It’s only because Logan saw you at your worst that you feel he’s the most logical choice. Already having shared a bed with him this week may also have some weight in your decision.  

You take the few self-assured steps to his room, once again standing in front of his door. This time you feel more confident in approaching the Wolverine in his den.

You knock three times, the piercing sound echoing through the hall.

“You start to miss me or what?” A bare chest enters your view. You note the dog tag hanging from his neck again before you find his unyielding gaze full of ambiguity, wondering why you’re here. Again.

You blink at him slowly in hilarity. “Ha, funny. Can I stay with you tonight?” You ask flatly, not thrilled with the situation, but not completely displeased with being here now. “My window—”

“I know what happened,” he interrupts. “Figured you’d go for the couch in the living room.” He looks at you more pointedly with teasing suspicion. 

“I think you know no one would ever willingly choose to sleep out there,” you reason, running a hand over your face in both shame and defeat.

He makes a face that tells you “touché” and you smirk in satisfaction. “If you don’t mind giving up half of your bed again, I would really appreciate it. I promise I’m not trying to make this a habit,” you sigh. Spending the night in Logan’s bed three times in the past month has to be a record for anyone recently. 

“I don’t think it would be a bad habit,” he argues. Oh. “C’mon.” He gives a jerk of his head to allow you in, his tufts of his hair bristling with the quick movement.

“Thanks,” you squeak. He wants you here? 

He shuts the door behind you, following you to the bed that’s clearly already had him in it. The blanket rests in waves on the mattress that remind you of just how human Logan is despite his reputation and image.

“Do you have an early morning?” You ask, slipping under the blanket.

“No. Charles was feeling nice for once,” he raises his tone sarcastically to rag on Charles’ judgement, which has clearly been a much needed one before now.

“Not an early bird?” You roll onto your right side like last time, facing him as he settles on his back with a deep breath. The bed sinks in again where he lays, your body wanting to give in to the laws of gravity and fall into him.

“Fuck no,” he laughs lightly, eyes crinkling around the corners. It’s self-deprecating, but it’s still a genuine laugh. The condescension from it lingers in the air, all directed at himself in a way that tells you he’s thinking about how inconceivably fucked up he is.

The last time he had a decent sleep was when you were drunk in his bed a few days ago.

“People like us don’t usually get the pleasure of a full eight hours,” he notes, sliding his gaze to yours for a fraction of a second.

He props an arm behind his head, the other resting on his chest and idly twisting the dog tag between his fingers. You watch the thin piece of steel slide and flip easily, the chain tinkling with every movement.

People like us.

“You mean mutants,” you state. You see his jaw tense in what little light there is from the half-moon tonight.

You see his brows pull together. “Yeah.” He has a point.

You think about the mutants you know, how they all have some horrific story about their gifts or family, or both. How they either were shamed by society or experimented on like rats. 

The scenarios are endless. If you can think of it, some mutant has probably lived it.

Your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach. You and Logan are not isolated or special cases, but you’ve already shared a moment of vulnerability with him when you came to his door all those weeks ago seeking solace for the same thing he fights with: the inescapable ability of remembering.

You pull the blanket tighter against you. “I don’t think you’ll hurt me.” 

He turns his head to you, confusion written on his face. “What?” He stops toying with the dog tag.

“Your claws. I trust you.” You didn’t feel like you were in immediate danger that first night, but you want to reassure him anyway. Or maybe you’re reassuring yourself. 

He hasn’t had to say a single word for you to know his nightmares trigger something instinctive and combative that’s been hardwired into his DNA. In this case, it’s his claws needing to find a home in his mattresses, where another body could potentially lay one night. Like yours is right now.

You noticed the lack of holes in this mattress when you first got to the bed. Maybe you mentioning them last time was enough for him to finally request a new one.

Logan knows he shouldn’t make promises he doesn’t know he’ll be able to keep, but he wants to keep you here tonight, so he improvises. He abandons the dog tag between his fingers completely, turning onto his side and reaching to find your hand under the blanket. You meet him halfway, sliding your fingers between his as your palms lay flat on the bed.

A smile tugs at your lips for a moment. He watches your interlinked fingers, observing the size difference, wondering if he really just did that—and why. 

You assume it’s his way of saying “thank you” for your trust when you probably shouldn’t be putting that much into him.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, pulling your fingers out from his just enough to caress the divets between his knuckles that conceal the claws.

He knows what you’re asking. “Every time.” He softly pushes his fingers back into yours, squeezing a little. 

There’s a deadly stillness in the room despite his window being cracked. You both know you’re one in the same in a way, and that’s a connection that Logan hasn’t let himself experience. Not everyone likes looking in a mirror.

To be truly seen by someone, wholly, without judgement or fear, is what he deserves. 

“What are you?” He asks, rubbing his index finger back and forth along the top of your hand. “Telekinetic? Psychic?” His curious voice grows quiet, hazel eyes fascinated with you and your lack of a physical mutation, at least nothing that he can see.

It never occurred to you that he didn’t know your mutation, or that you’ve never told him. It was never needed, but it seems unfair that you know about his when he wasn’t the one who told you.

“Ha, close.” Your eyes twinkle as you notice how intently he’s listening. “Psychometric,” you correct, watching his forehead crease.

“Sounds like math,” he quips, readjusting his head on the pillow. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat he’s putting off.

You laugh quietly. “No, it’s extrasensory perception. It lets me see the history of any object or person I touch, but only if I accept the energy,” you explain.

You watch his eyes narrow and you know what he’s thinking, so you quickly interject as he begins to pull his hand out from yours. “I need to touch a pulse point to be able to see anything,” you reassure, feeling his fingers slide back against yours. “The heart remembers everything,” you clarify.

The catch? The person’s memories and past stay with you after you see them. It’s become hard to distinguish what memories are yours or someone else’s. They all become intertwined. Good or bad, violent or gentle. You see it all, and then it’s part of you. Forever.

“I haven’t looked. I promise.” 

“Good. You don’t need to see that shit,” he huffs, eyes wandering over your face. He isn’t sure what he’s looking for, but he’s a little startled for the first time in a while.

“I’m sure I’ve seen it all,” you state. It’s probably not far off from the truth. Your gift came when you were all too young, and plenty of time has passed since then for you to rack up this amount of damage from near-strangers and their lives.

“No, you haven’t.” A sure expression passes over him, shaking his head as best as he can against the pillow. 

“Then I’ll count myself lucky,” you say softly. You have no idea what Logan has experienced, but his demeanor makes you want to stay curious. Not everything needs to be known, and you’re definitely not entitled to it.

A faint smile appears on his lips, then it’s gone just as quick. “Get some sleep,” he rasps. He turns onto his back and his hand abandons yours. 

It’s a complete repeat of last time.

Something twinges in your heart, and you don’t like it. What exactly had you expected from Logan? He’s just doing you a courtesy by letting you stay here for the night. Nothing more. And that’s what you should expect: nothing.

The hum of crickets outside eventually lulls you into a dead sleep. It’s heavy and deep, not a single muscle twitching in your body. Logan breathes steadily next to you, a hand on his chest as the occasional snore fills the air.

From above you two might look like you’re transient, only here in this moment for a short time. And, realistically, you are. 

━━━━

Logan was no where to be seen by the time you woke up, and you made quick work to get out of his room. It always feel wrong to be in someone’s space when they aren’t there.

Just like Storm said, the windows in your rooms were fixed the next day. It looks as though nothing even happened.

“Thank fuck,” you mumble to yourself as you step back into your room.

If you ever have to spend another night in Logan’s bed, you might as well wear a shirt that says “yes, we’re fucking!”, even if it isn’t true. You could deny it all you want, but it won’t stop what students would say. Nothing gets past them, even if it’s behind a closed door.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

“Are you fucking Logan?”

You almost swallow your tongue. “Sorry?” Your brows shoot up in surprise, eyes round in disbelief.

“Are you guys sleeping together?” Storm casually asks as she flicks through the T.V. channels, glancing over to you from her spot on the couch.

You’re sat comfortably in an arm chair, suddenly no longer caring what channel she decides on. “Why would you think that?” Technically you were sleeping together, but not like that. It may never happen again, no matter how badly you want it to.

“Things travel fast around here,” she deflects with a cheeky smile. “And, you know, Logan is…Logan.” She shrugs.

You don’t even know what to say to that. Is there a right or wrong answer?

“It wasn’t like that,” you grumble. “He was doing me a favour. As a friend.” It hasn’t even been a full day since he let you stay with him while pieces of your window laid on your floor, and people are already convinced you’re fucking. 

You haven’t even managed a chaste kiss, despite how much as you want to, never mind his dick being balls deep in you.

“Right.” She emphasizes the word, not convinced. Or just pushing your buttons because she can. 

You roll your eyes. “If anything was happening, you’d be the first to know,” you point out. 

She looks back over to you. “I know,” she says with another, more sincere, smile. “You two would be cute, though.” 

You give her some side-eye, not quite sure if you disagree entirely with that statement. Whatever happens, happens. Logan is not something you can control or influence. He does what—and who—he wants, when he wants. 

━━━━

A bolt of lightening strikes you. You gasp, then release a choked cry, eyes flying open as you claw at your chest in terror.

Your throat tightens and you break out in a cold sweat as you sit up. The soft blanket around you feels constricting. Sporadic and short breaths make you heave as your body registers the horrors in your subconscious. 

There was never any lighting. That’s just what the pain feels like.

The muscles in your shoulders and neck tense from your panicked state as your heart struggles to keep a normal rhythm. You yank the blanket off, feeling weak from fear and the onset of tremors. Your whole body gives up on itself as you sob through broken exhales. Your legs have gone cold, lungs shrinking inch by inch with every passing minute. 

You crawl to the edge of your bed, wanting to just get out and leave—the blanket. The bed. The room. Most of all, you want to escape your own mind.

You sink onto the floor when a foot touches the ground, and you realize walking isn’t in the cards right now. You’re shaking too badly to be able to physically move. All your strength is gone, robbed by your memories.

Balmy tears paint your face in determination, making sure no part of you is left untouched by this spell.

You screw your eyes shut, tears still slipping out with ease anyway. Leaning your back against the bed-frame, you curl into yourself and wrap your arms around your knees on the chilled hardwood.

You try to focus on your breathing to at least slow your heart down to a pace that doesn’t hurt.

Wounded cries rip their way out of you, interrupting the breaths you try to steady. A hand touches your arm and you yelp like an injured dog, flailing at the contact as your arms swing out from around your knees in shock.

“Hey, hey, it’s me. It’s me.” Strong hands quickly wrap around each of your wrists to stop your arms from thrashing.

You try to focus your eyes, blurred and stinging from tears, on the person kneeling closely in front of you.

“L-Logan…” you whisper, balling your fists to try and expel the shakes.

He looks like someone who shouldn’t be able to be concerned about another person, yet the look on his face scares you. Brows pinched together in worry, eyes frantic, lips parted from heavy breaths. All because of you.

“It’s just me,” he hushes your cries. His thumbs stroke the undersides of your wrists tenderly, no doubt feeling your racing pulse. 

You feel disoriented. “Wh…how…” 

“I heard you,” he explains, watching you process everything. He drops your wrists when some recognition passes over your face.

“What do you need?” He follows your gaze as it wanders around the room, trying to keep you from spiralling further.

You look at him for a moment. He’s got his white tank-top on, the black sweats, and an intense need to help you written all over him. Fresh tears burn your cheeks as you come back into reality.

“I want it to fucking stop,” you weep, head falling into your hands in shame.

You don’t want him to see you like this, even though it’s a commonality between you two. It’s too intimate. You’d take him seeing you blackout drunk everyday of the year over this.

Then you do remember that it has stopped. Each time in Logan’s bed. There was silence. Peace. For the whole night. For both of you.

“Tell me what you need,” he says firmly, angling his head down to keep your eyes on him, desperately wanting an answer.

“You.” You suck in an agonizing breath to try and collect yourself.

He doesn’t flinch like you expect him to. If anything, his eyes become more pensive, clearly considering something. Then he shakes his head in wariness.

“C’mon. Let’s get you out of here,” he breathes, voice barely above a whisper. The only sound echoing in the room is your wobbly breathes, your body jerking with each one as you enter the aftermath and begin to go slack.

An arm slides behind your back, his hand grabbing ahold of your side while he pulls your legs over his other arm, picking you up off the floor.

He cradles you against him just like he did when you were drunk, carrying you out of your room.

He left your door open when he came in, and you hope no students heard or saw anything. He tilts to grab the doorknob, shutting it without a sound.

You wipe and rub at your eyes as Logan takes a few steps down the hall, quickly getting to where he needs to go when you feel him lean for his doorknob.

You’re sure a few rogue, leftover tears fall onto his shirt before he manages to sit on his bed lightly, you still curled tightly in his arms. 

His hand pushes on your back for you to sit upright on his lap. “Face me,” he encourages, holding onto your sides as you twist around, bending your legs to slide over his thighs and straddle him loosely. 

You look down at him, he looks up at you, feeling the quivers in your body dissipate as you melt further into his lap. A fondness crosses over both of your tired faces. He rests his arms over your thighs, warm hands linking behind your back as you do the same around his neck. 

It’s nothing provocative or seductive. All you can feel is the care and concern rolling off of him in suffocating waves. He wants you to feel safe, and if that means overrunning your senses with his presence, then that’s what he’ll do.

“Got anything to say?” He murmurs, the fallen strands of hair around the edges of his forehead bristle with each move of his head. The rest of his hair fails to fully resemble the cat-like ears he had earlier in the day. 

What does he want to hear? 

You let your head hang a little, your nose almost brushing his. “I have nothing to say,” you assert, fidgeting with the chain of his dog tag at the nape of his neck. 

You don’t necessarily feel embarrassed about him seeing you in such a helpless state, but you don’t want to simply unload your shit on him. So, in turn, you have nothing to say.

“Bullshit.” He almost rolls his eyes. There’s no real threat of him forcing you to say anything behind it. He won’t pry, but he doesn’t believe you.

An offended look overcomes your face, and you almost pull away. You don’t want to feel the humiliation of elaborating on just why exactly you said you needed him in this moment out of everything else. 

“I just…” You roll your lips together in thought, measuring the words you could say but won’t. “Want to sleep. Here,” you sigh. “I don’t wanna go back.” You deflate in his arms, voice wobbly. 

It’s already who-knows what time, and you need to pacify your wired nervous system; Logan simply holding you has already helped with that more than you want to admit.

His mouth quirks up briefly at that. “What happened to not wanting to make that a habit?” His eyes soften as his arms retract from around your sides, letting you slip easily onto his bed from his lap in a moment of calm, or relief.

Habit, if not resisted, soon becomes necessity.

“Special circumstances,” you reason, already pulling the blanket over you while he keeps his place at the edge of the bed, observing you with amusement.

“Seems like you get into those a lot,” he notes, pushing himself off the mattress.

He steps around to the other side—his designated spot—and slips the tank-top off, letting it drop to the floor. You’re not trying to be a freak, but you watch the whole thing.

The flex of his arms and shoulders are out of your mind as fast as they entered as you watch him hook his thumbs in the waistband of his sweats and pull them downright in front of you, not even turning around or to the side to try and conceal himself.

Your eyes widen, then you reel in your thoughts before they get lost at sea. No one who is sane fucking sleeps in sweatpants. Duh.

But didn’t he the last two times? It’s hard for you to remember, but you’d certainly recall if you were face-to-face with the outline of his di—

“It’s rude to stare, y’know.” Logan pulls his lips together, interrupting your thoughts. You try to not eyeball the bulge too hard, but it basically looked at you first. 

The snug briefs do little to hide anything. They hide nothing, actually.

You almost scoff, but the playfulness in his tone tells you he couldn’t give a shit. He probably likes it anyway. From what you know, he definitely does.

“Oh, yeah, like you’ve ever cared about modesty,” you throw back, averting your gaze to the ceiling anyway.

It’s not that he runs around the mansion naked, but he definitely isn’t shy about what he looks like or against showing some skin. You’ve seen and heard enough over the past few months.

You hear a stifled chuckle as he joins you under the blanket without a retort. He knows you’re right. He’s just glad you’re a little lively and alert.

“Will you be okay for the rest of the night?” He brings both hands behind his head on the pillow, propping himself up a little.

“I should be fine,” you say confidently. “The challenge will be getting back to sleep.” You laugh in exasperation. 

It’s always hard to calm down and get back to a place of tranquility after everything has settled with your mind. You’re pumped full of adrenaline and there’s not much that can curb something that persistent flowing through your body.

You haven’t found anything to help with it. Yet. 

“There’s not many people that’ll understand what you go through,” he starts, voice rough with fatigue. “But I do.”

You look to him, sliding an arm under your pillow as you turn on your side. “How do you…help it.” You’re not sure if you phrased that right. It feels crude to reduce something so complex to the likes of a common cold that has an array of over-the-counter solutions. 

“You don’t. It just has to run its course.” He looks to you, wanting to see your reaction. 

It wasn’t meant to be hurtful or insensitive, but he’s not going to lie to you and say that things can only get better and that the worst is over. Especially for mutants, that’s not always true.

Although you don’t know what Logan lives with every day and sleeps with every night, you do know that his capacity for empathy is still intact. Here you are in his bed after all, seeing and indulging in a side of him that many never will. 

You sigh lightly. “We’re quite the pair.” 

A comfortable half-smirk slips over his lips. “I think we’re just fucked up insomniacs,” he suggests with a breathy exhale that’s close enough to a laugh.

You wish you could slide a thumb over the pulse in his wrist and see what’s haunting him, just to understand what happened to the Wolverine, but you’ve learned that doing so usually isn’t worth the price you’ll pay after. If what’s in his head is horrific enough to cause him to go through a couple mattresses a month, then it won’t do you any good either.

“I sleep pretty good with you,” you offer, seeing how he raises a brow in doubt almost instantly.

He sleeps well with you, too. It kind of rattled him when he noticed a pattern of uninterrupted nights and you being by his side. Not a single mattress ruined on those nights.

“Try not to knee me in the stomach tonight,” he deflects with ease. He takes his hands out from behind his head, sliding his left arm under the pillow as he turns over onto his side and closes his eyes. Facing you.

You mentally smack yourself. Multiple times. You didn’t think you drifted that much when you slept. 

“No promises,” you mutter. You catch a small shake of his head before you let yourself join him in unconsciousness as you mirror each others lonely bodies.

━━━━

Your eyes ache—to open, to move, to touch. Enough crying will do that to you.Your eyelids are heavy, but there’s something else weighing down on you. 

A tired groan crawls from your throat as you try to place yourself for a moment. The morning sun is just beginning to shine too brightly for your liking, and you squish your face deeper into the pillow.

You’re still tipsy with sleep, lying flat on your stomach, but there’s something dense and hot resting over your back. 

You prop yourself up on your forearms, giving yourself a minute to wake up. You twist your hips around to sit yourself up, feeling the thing on your back slide down to your waist. 

The blanket pools around your hips, and you feel a hand reflexively squeeze over the meat of your hip in disapproval of your moving. Something in you clenches at the sensation of something invading the area with ease. A spot reserved for intimacy.

Your head quirks to your right, seeing Logan on his stomach with his right arm thrown over your midsection. 

You blink in surprise, staring at his sleeping body. His hair is sticking up every which way, his head half-off the pillow, his side of the blanket not even covering the curve of his ass anymore. It’s endearing to see the Wolverine in such a normal, human state.

But if someone were to walk in, it would look like you two spent the whole night fucking. A lot. That wakes you up a little more.

You peek over at the nightstand behind him and see the time blinking on his watch. It’s already 8 a.m. 

You rest a hand over his shoulder to gently guide his arm off of you, but you stop yourself. Instead, you lightly trace your fingers down his shoulders and upper back a couple times, occasionally scratching softly over the ridges of muscle.

A shiver quickly rolls through his upper body, but your touch doesn’t fully wake him. He knows it’s just you.

It’s the least you can do for him as a thanks for recovering your broken body from the floor of your room and bringing you here when he didn’t necessarily have to.

It almost feels like instinct to offer comforting gestures to him. There’s something inside you that just pulls to him. You want to be the one that can give him comfort and help him put himself back together. 

You want to be the only one.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

There’s a shadow that’s been following you around the mansion. 

As soon as you stepped out of Logan’s room that morning a few days ago, it started. 

This shadow likes to be nosy about what you’re doing. This shadow likes to be in your space. This shadow wants to be in your space. And he is.

No one has seen Logan out around the mansion this much, including you, and that’s how you noticed he’s basically been attached to your hip ever since he decided your back was a comfortable armrest. 

He’s always just there, like a stray cat begging for food or affection. There to entertain you, banter with you, indulge you, in any way he can, including now as you trail back inside the mansion well behind Storm from an evening walkabout in the garden.

“No smoking in the courtyard,” you sing as you pass him carelessly, not even offering a glance to him in interest. 

You like playing this game. Whatever it is. Constantly poking and prodding at each other to see what you can do to get the other to break in some way, no matter how slight. 

Your heart flutters and flips every time; maybe from the thrill of it all, maybe from the arousal you get from the tension. You hope he feels everything, too.

He turns his head to watch you cross into the entryway. “Blow me,” he throws back playfully through a thick puff of smoke, leaning against the brick wall with a cigar pinched between two fingers.

You suppress a chuckle, keeping your unwavering pace. “Yeah, you wish!” You yell over your shoulder. You know he hears you. He wouldn’t let himself miss it.

Logan smirks and shakes his head in amusement, always impressed with your quick rebuttals that occasionally tent his jeans. He takes one last drag out of spite before following your footsteps inside. 

You have become, by definition, friends…in a way. Even if you sorely cross the line into other territory more often than not. Sexual innuendos and friendly flirting can only go on for so long before the underlying intentions and meaning reflects real desires. 

It’s evolved into more than just borrowing his bed a couple times or helping each other out. It’s surpassed the fear of whatever habit you were afraid of forming from doing so. It’s become a dependency to get that adrenaline high from simply riling each other up.

You have an assumption that if you were to end up in Logan’s bed again, somehow, there will be a point of no return that you’ll be faced with. There aren’t many more excuses that can be used for explaining to yourselves why you’re together in bed before you have to recognize the truth.

That platonic line is being stretched too thin, and you’re not sure how much farther it can go.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

“How’ve you been sleeping?”

“Fine. You?”

“Could be better.” Logan hides his smirk, but you can hear it in his voice.

You narrow your eyes skeptically as he fishes around in the fruit bowl sitting in the middle of the kitchen island.

“How so?” You ask. Your legs swing leisurely as you sit upon the chilled countertop on his left, idly waiting for Storm to show up and go with you to training.

A smug, tight-lipped grin flashes across his face, a green apple rolling around in his palms before he puts it back. “You could be there,” he provokes, his eyes bright.

It’s your turn to raise a brow at him, but you can’t stop your smile. “Oh?”

He turns to you, tenderly grabbing the tops of your thighs and parting them slightly to stand between your legs.

This isn’t the first time he’s done this, and he knows it rouses you in all the right ways. But, neither of you will do anything about it. Not even a brief kiss.

“Come on,” he goads, planting his hands down next to your hips, bringing himself in closer as he bears his weight on his arms. “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.” He sways his head side to side to emphasize his point.

Fuck. That’s good. 

That may be exactly what you did for him, but it’s now a figure of speech for something else entirely. It’s almost impossible to argue against either way, as if you want to. This is what you’ve been patiently waiting for. 

You put your hands over his as you lean back a little to put some distance between you. “How sweet,” you hum.

His eyes flick from yours to your lips one too many times before you continue. “You start to miss me?” You tease as you lean forward again, echoing what he said to you the night your window got smashed in.

“Smart-ass,” he mutters as you laugh quietly. The tips of your noses barely graze each other as he steps in closer again. You’re almost at the same height like this. 

“Save me the left side,” you advise, bringing your hands to his shoulders as you fondle his white t-shirt between your fingers. You’re so close, and he’s already so warm against you just like this.

“Always do.”

━━━━

You want to rip your heart out of your chest from how hard it’s pounding against your ribs. It’s almost throwing you forward with each heavy beat.

Three resounding knocks fill the hallway as you shuffle on your feet, waiting for Logan to open the door.

It feels like you’re doing something bad. Something parents would warn their kids against. Something greatly envied.

Everything inside you feels on fire. Your thoughts, desires, anxiety, all jumbling together into one distorted state of mind and body.

“Ah, welcome back.” His sarcastic tone makes your face go hot. A satisfied smirk crosses his lips as he runs a hand through his shaggy, unstyled hair. 

You shake your head, pursing your lips. “Knock it off.” You gently shove at his bare chest. Misbehaviour already. But are you really surprised?

Logan grabs your wrist, delicately guiding you into his room. “You enjoy it,” he says lowly, quickly shutting the door as soon as you’re in. 

“Maybe,” you hum in response, pulling away from his grasp and seeking out your side of the bed. Logan follows closely behind, giving your ass a light smack in encouragement before he cuts away to his side while you jolt in shock, a stunned look on your face as you whip your head around to him across the bed.

“Oh, really?” You scoff. He’s biting back a smile, not moving until he knows what you’ll do next. He’s never gone that far before.

“I’m sorry, that was rude—how can I make it up to you?” He almost chokes on a laugh, pulling his dog tag back and forth along the chain while he considers you.

This Logan is very different from the one you were met with the first night he let you in his space. This one is attentive and exuberant, yet he hasn’t given you much up until this point right now. You’ve gotten way too comfortable with him without even doing anything to you. 

In this moment, he isn’t the brooding, animalistic Wolverine many see him as. He’s just Logan—for you. 

You watch him carefully, easing yourself onto the bed. “Get in the fucking bed,” you slap his side of the mattress with a thump of your palm. “And do what you promised earlier,” you stare pointedly at him.

He owes you that “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” favour he decided to pull out to get you here. 

“Mm, alright, alright,” he surrenders, a look of amusement still on his face as he kneels onto the bed. “I thought of a pretty good idea for it,” he says softly, crawling to sit next to you on top of the blanket as the bed-frame creaks with the added weight.

Your shoulders almost brush against each other. You shift, turning your body fully toward him. “Oh? Wh—woah!”

You squeal when his strong hands latch onto your sides, lifting you just enough to pull you over his legs to plant you on his lap. He leans back against the headboard, pulling on your thighs so you straddle him tightly. 

He looks devilish when you catch his gaze again, and you know what’s coming. What’s been coming. Your hands find their places on his shoulders, warm and taut, as his hands hold your hips. 

The bond between you will culminate tonight. It will be wrapped in a blanket and trapped between two alike souls that lie heart-to-heart in the dead of night. It will be perpetual.

The heat of him between your legs makes you restless. It’s just you, him, and the darkness in the quiet room you’ve become too familiar with.

“Logan…” you trail off bashfully when you feel something firm through his sweats poke against your cunt. It clearly doesn’t take much to excite him.

“Hm?” He takes you in for a split second, hands running from your hips up to your chest leisurely with a sharp inhale, not yet completely bothered by the fact that you have a shirt on. 

You suck in a shaky breath when your hips accidentally shift over his bulge from his hands pushing and pulling over you.

“What’s the idea?” Your voice wavers.

You know what it is. He knows that. You just want to hear him say it and fill the silence.

“Something I’ve wanted for a while,” he murmurs, eyes hyper-focused on you. 

Your fingers dance their way to the sides of his neck, brushing along the supple skin while you feel muscles and tendons flex with every slight movement. You subtly press the pad of your index finger against the pulse point right under his jaw, just to ground yourself and truly feel that Logan is there in front of you. 

His pulse is steady but hard, much like yours, and the prickle of energy festering against the finger almost makes it go numb from not accepting it into your body. 

“Show me, then.” You smile sweetly, leaning in closer while you tilt his head up with the hand under his jaw, your finger slipping from his pulse and caressing over the dense, coarse hair along his cheek.

Your noses bump while your lips part in anticipation. His eyes flutter as he falls into you and frantically claims your mouth in an unbreakable kiss.

The first kiss. Nothing could tear him from you in this moment.

Your hands cradle his cheeks, keeping him from pulling off too far. His hands scratch and paw at your back, trying to find a way to somehow get you closer against him.

It’s all a little messy, your lips mostly just mashing together without any rhyme or reason, but neither of you care. You only care about how electrifying it feels to finally have Logan and feel how perfectly connected you are together after all these nights. You go together like a key and its lock.

“Logan,” you pant when his mouth releases yours for a fraction of a breath. The seconds between kisses dwindle the more you take from each other.

Your thighs tense as he pulls half an inch away just to reconnect more crazed as his lips lock over your bottom one aimlessly. Something deep inside you trembles and aches.

He grunts, accidentally sucking the tip of your tongue briefly before slotting his lips back over yours in an apology. “Hold on,” he mumbles in a rush against your parted lips. He knows what you’re asking—or trying to ask. He snakes an arm up along your spine and wraps the other around your waist.

Then the world is tilting.

He drops you on your back on the bed from his lap, hovering over you as he distracts you with harsh but pleasing kisses and wet bites along your neck, settling his hips heavily between your thighs. You squirm and feel how bolts of arousal are making your cunt pulse involuntarily. 

Logan groans. “Fuck—I can smell it. I smell you.” He slowly grinds his hips into yours almost reflexively. He squeezes his eyes shut, and you tip your chin up to press a chaste kiss to his slick lips. 

“Taste…if you want to,” you propose, lightly scratching up and down his shoulders and arms, only enough to leave faint red lines for a couple seconds.

Logan’s eyes almost roll into the back of his head before he gives it a small shake, a conflicted look overtaking his face. “Of course I fucking want to, but—fuck—next time. I promise.” He swallows whatever you were going to say with a deep kiss that has you nearly shaking when he sucks on your bottom lip. 

“Let’s just take things easy,” he says roughly, bearing his weight on his left arm while he tries to get your sleep shorts and underwear off.

A promise of a next time makes your brain go fuzzy like static.

“I’ll hold you to it, then,” you resolve, lifting your hips as much as you can for him to lean back and pull away to wrestle your clothes the rest of the way down your legs, discarding them just as quickly.

“I hope you will,” he breathes through a small laugh as he shuffles on his knees. He doesn’t want to completely overwhelm you and scare you off, he just wants to enjoy you in a simple way that won’t entirely ruin you for tomorrow.

He doesn’t know what you can or cannot handle, but he’s going to find out.

The fresh air in the room brushes cooly against your wet cunt. It’s a nice contrast to how fiery your whole body feels, but Logan feels even warmer than you somehow. Maybe wolverine’s just run hot.

His sweats have ridden down his hips from his desperate grinding against you, and the dangerous cut of his v-line grows more and more narrow as the waistband teases the reveal of what’s underneath.

You watch him—palming his dick once as your knees sway side-to-side in waiting. His thumbs hook under the stretchy fabric, working what remains of his clothes down his sturdy thighs.

“It’s rude to stare.” He pops a brow, a smug, arrogant grin quirking his lips.

You push yourself to sit up, considerably shorter than him in this position as he stands on his knees, and walk two fingers up his toned stomach to his chest, avoiding the hard cock between you. 

He looks at you with curiosity until your hand grabs his dog tag in a fist, pulling it towards you. “Then stop showing me your dick,” you say as he leans in to your pulling a little to not have the chain break away.

You knew the night Logan dropped his pants in front of you and let you eye-up his bulge would come back to haunt you. But it’s alluring. Big. Curves a little to the left, barely noticeable. A respectable amount of hair decorates the space between his bellybutton and the base of his cock.

He gives in to the tension on the chain, falling back to the mattress with you and trapping you between his arms as his cock rests heavy on your clit.

“How about I find somewhere to put it?” His smile pushes a whole new wave of arousal from you.

“It would be a damn shame if you didn’t,” you say against his mouth, giving your hips a roll just to tease him before hugging his waist tightly with your knees.

“Good.” He gives you a strong kiss with a small grunt, running his hands over your sides under your shirt. The movement pushes it up, up, up, until you have no choice but to stretch your arms out above you and let him slide it off between more thoughtless kisses, leaving you entirely bare.

He lets you breathe for a moment, dipping his head to bite and suck marks along your collarbones messily. You squeeze around his hips harder, trying to get him to give you something other than his scratchy cheeks rubbing against your skin and the chilled steel of the dog tag dragging over your chest.

The tip of his cock falls and catches over your clit when he moves lower, licking and sucking over your chest like a starved animal finding food for the first time in a week. You gasp from the mixed sensations.

“C’mon, kitty cat, you can do all this while inside m-me,” you say breathily, fingers digging into his shoulders to stop yourself from trembling too much. 

Logan bites over a nipple before pulling himself back up to look at you. “Is that a promise?” He says lowly, that stupid smirk gracing his face again.

“Try it and find out,” you demand, enjoying the sting of the deeper bites blooming on your torso.

He purses his lips, shifting his weight back onto his knees to grab ahold of his cock to angle and guide it in.

“Hm, guess no lube is needed,” he muses when he gets a look at your cunt, sparing you a glance through his lashes.

You roll your eyes shut when your whole body lights up red-hot. “Jesus fucking Christ, Logan,” you slap a hand over your eyes as you grimace. You don’t want to be that aware of your naked self right now.

He suppresses whatever expression was about to cross his face when his cock notches itself between your soaked folds, teasing your hole with the blunt tip. His brows pinch together and you forget the embarrassment from his crude remark.

But he leaves his cock like that, on the precipice of sliding the rest of the way in with a snap of his hips. Instead, he carefully uncurls his upper body to crawl his way back up to you while holding his hips deathly still.

“Alright, stay with me,” he whispers against your neck when you moan, pressing a tender kiss to your rabid pulse in reassurance. 

“O-okay,” you sigh, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the roots while the other squeezes around his arm as best as it can. You’re not even really sure what he’s saying.  

He kisses up your cheek and over to your lips again. You try to keep up with his quick mouth, licking and sucking whatever part you can get ahold of, but you’ve become lost in the feeling of him all over you. 

He’s in your mouth, on your chest, against your stomach, nudging your cunt. Everywhere.

He slips his tongue over yours, securing your lips together at the same time he pushes his cock in halfway. Now you understand what he was saying. 

The lightheadedness from being filled, even just a bit, almost makes you lose yourself. The stretch makes your stomach drop, your legs shake, and your mouth fall open with a whine. 

“A-ah—fuck. Fuck, Logan,” you whimper, fisting his hair with both hands to stop yourself from falling apart.

He groans, either at the grip you have on his hair or how good your cunt feels already, and runs a hand up your left thigh in comfort as you squeeze around his hips tighter to draw him in. 

“Just a bit more,” he soothes, trying to resist the urge to slide into you in one fell swoop. It would be so easy to just let his hips fall into yours and fill your cunt.

Another heated kiss, another few inches. He works his cock into you the rest of the way with ease. You guess the lube thing wasn’t really a joke. His hungry, needy kisses may have also helped with that.

You choke on your gasps, not wanting to get too loud, and Logan does the same. He tries to muffle both of your moans with his mouth, attempting to form complete kisses, but it just turns into you panting against each other as he finally bottoms out, hitting his end. 

Your legs relax around his waist as he deftly rocks his hips in small thrusts to get you familiar with his size, his small grunts filling the air each time you swallow him whole.

You let out a deep breath, dropping your hands back to his tense shoulders. He lines your jaw with soft kisses, fisting the blanket in his hands beside your head.

“Fuck. Already feels too good,” he moans, pressing into you harder and unintentionally rubbing himself over your tender clit.

You smile, squirming while he works down your neck again. “Best of luck,” you huff, amused at the fact that he might not last as long as he wants to.

He brings his face back to yours, a completely blissful expression controlling his features, but there’s still some mischief in his hazel eyes. “Oh? Yeah?”

You hold each other’s gaze, both equally dazed and overwhelmed, and he draws his hips back and pushes into your wet cunt with a complete, strong thrust. The sound of his pelvis hitting against the backs of your thighs makes him laugh in pleasure and satisfaction when you instantly roll your eyes and head back.

Your cunt quivers, gripping him tight, and then it’s Logan’s turn to lose composure. He drops his head to your chest, managing a few deep breaths as he slowly pulls out halfway just to push right back into you, over and over. 

It’s a pace that isn’t quite pure, mindless fucking, but it’s also not somewhere near earnest love-making. It’s something that feels specifically curated for you. Something that feels measured and sincere. 

The strength of his thighs hitting against yours pushes you up the mattress a few inches, and you don’t know whether to gasp or moan. He reaches somewhere deep inside you, and you know he can feel that, too.

A helpless groan slips through Logan’s lips. “Where have you fucking been, huh?” He muses through shaky breaths, the determined plunge of his cock hitting something that makes your muscles tense throughout your body. 

Your fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his neck, keeping him close. “Two doors down,” you giggle, understanding that’s not quite what he was asking.

“Fucking smart-ass,” he grumbles, silencing any further rebuttals with a wet kiss. You don’t think you could manage much more of a conversation even if you wanted to.

The silence is quickly filled with obscene sounds that only seem to leave you wetter and Logan throbbing. You can hear your bodies connecting through your gasping for air and his choked moans, and you can feel the mess you’re making all over him. It’s smeared along the inside of your thighs from how deep he’s been hitting. The squelching only seems to make him fuck into you harder.

Something inside you starts to grow tight and wind up in your core, making you repeatedly clench around him while his cock strokes all the right spots inside you as he makes sure he’s fucking himself in to the base. He doesn’t deprive you of anything. 

He drops his head to your neck, wedging his face in to latch onto the spot right where your neck starts to slope into your shoulder. The dense muscle there gives him something to basically chew on, sinking his teeth in as deep as he can without drawing blood.

“H-hah, Logan,” you whine, tilting your head into the side of his and squirming from the pleasant sting.

You feel his arm move beside you, then you hear the sound of tearing fabric as he gives a particularly brutal snap of his hips, followed by a deep groan against your skin.

You can barely form any thoughts, but you can guess what just happened. If he pulled his hand back, three long, slim holes would probably be where his knuckles are right now.

“Fu-uck, Logan, you just got t-this mattress,” you laugh a little, your words choppy from how hard he’s driving into you now.

He draws back from your neck, seeing your half-lidded eyes trying to focus on him. “Can’t always control it,” he reasons, giving you two short, fleeting kisses as you hear his claws retract from the innocent mattress. 

You see the double-edged sword. You can guess that that’s the same explanation he would probably use for the nightmares. It can go either way, and now you’ve seen both sides.

“It’s okay,” you say in a hushed tone. You cradle his face, and he rests his forehead against yours. “Keep going…keep going,” you coax, face scrunching from your nearing orgasm.

You can feel it in your toes, your stomach, your shoulders—you’re tightening up everywhere, and he can undoubtedly feel it in your cunt as you pulse around him. It grips him just right for a couple seconds before relaxing completely and leaving him to chase for more.

“Keep squeezing me like that and you’ll get whatever you want,” he offers, fighting to maintain his steady pace for both your sakes.

You almost whine, knowing whatever your body does is beyond your control at this point.

“Just—inside.” You can’t even string together a full sentence anymore, but the urgency and stress on the last word makes Logan’s ears perk up.

He presses a soft kiss to your clammy forehead in acknowledgment, the muscles in his arms straining and flexing as he grabs ahold of his own orgasm after a particularly inviting flutter of your walls.

You’re both walking the line, teetering on the edge of utter euphoria, and you know nothing will be the same after. You don’t want it to be. You hope it isn’t.

He reaches an arm back, sliding his hand up your thigh again and slotting it behind the bend in your knee. He pushes forward—only slightly—bringing your leg closer to your stomach to stretch you open for him.

His cock brushes over something new. Something that makes you bite your tongue. The angle lets him fit perfectly against you, not hindered by the flesh of your thigh stopping his hips.

You want to cry from how good it all feels. You want to be suspended in this feeling forever. You want Logan to—

“Focus, baby. Focus on me,” he coos, bringing you back to reality. He holds the side of your head with his other hand affectionately. “Come on…come on, I know you’re almost there,” he encourages with a quick kiss that goes straight to your stomach.

The burn in your thigh from the stretch can’t overpower the sparks of your orgasm, and Logan just fanned the flames with a few little words.

You come with a broken sob, convulsing around his cock while he fucks you through it, submitting to his own orgasm only seconds after with deep, shaky breaths as he empties himself inside your cunt.

He doesn’t pull out or pull away. He relaxes on top of you, sweaty and sticky with cum, and he places the barest whisper of a kiss on your chin, your parted lips, your nose, and then your forehead. 

Your ears ring from your orgasm, eyes still slightly out of focus. Your body trembles from your muscles finally releasing the tension they’ve been caught up in. 

You desperately suck in air, trying to calm your pounding heart, and you just lie there and let Logan walk your body through a cool-down. Soft kisses. Soft touches. Soft looks. Between sweat, cum, and whatever else.

He rocks a little on his knees, weak from his release, and carefully pulls out of you with a huff as he caresses your stomach and thighs appreciatively to wind you down. You get a good look at him. Not a scratch. His hair tells a story, though—one where he’s completely possessed by bliss. 

You probably look like you survived an animal attack.

“Are we even?” Logan says through a kiss against your stomach.

A mindless laugh crawls from your throat, caught up in the feeling of his hands rubbing circles over your hips. “I think I still owe you,” you argue, resting your hands over his as they travel smoothly up your side.

You’ll find a way to make everything up to him. Including the sex. The scale is now tipping to his side too much. All the nights spent in his bed, what he’s done for you, what you’ve done for each other, may just be immeasurable, but that won’t stop you from finding a way to get him back for it all. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he mumbles, snaking back up your body and pressing himself against you. Face-to-face. Chest-to-chest. 

You mindfully run your hands over the sides of his head, trying to tame his hair and style it back to how it was earlier in the night. It doesn’t work. He enjoys it anyway.

“Do I have the pleasure of staying here tonight?” You ask rhetorically, enjoying the warmth of him on top of you against the brisk air creeping in from the cracked window.

Logan blinks. “You can stay every night.” 

A loving smile springs over your face. This may be the beginning of the end to your troubles and worries.  

You—maybe foolishly—trust him. You trust that he won’t accidentally bury his claws in your side during the night, but you’ve had impressive luck with that up until this point. The only thing you can do now is continue to push that luck.

Healing isn’t linear, and you can’t expect someone to fix you, but everyone finds their thing at some point. 

You slither your hand down to his neck, index finger grazing over his pulse again. You feel the energy biting against you.

Your lips graze over his, tempting him to give you a slow, deep kiss. “Can I have the left side?” Rhetorical, again.

Logan chuckles against your mouth. “Always.”

[megangovier]

Expelled | J.M Fic

Pairing: Stepdad!Joel x brat! fem! reader Summary: Joel was heading out on lunch break, when his phone blew up with notifications of links and videos of you doing nasty things with your teacher, angry he drives to your college and confronts you in private. Y/n describes her "time" with her teach and Joel bends you over the desk" Warnings: 18+ only // age gap 21/30s // punishment // slapping x1 // slight s&m! reader // swearing/degradation // spanking // fingering // ear biting // finger sucking // Joel being jealous // biting // Minors Do NOT interact!. Author's note: I'm not responsible for what you view on your algorithm, so if this makes you uncomfortable please scroll past! Thank you <3 pic isn't mine mention of y/n This is all fictionalised, nothing from this fic should be taken into the real world, it's all fantasy! for my stepdad!Joel sluts😏 Wc: 1k

Joel was in his office, sitting at his desk sipping on his rich americano with a beaming smile on his face. He thought to himself it's not going to be bad of a day and it's going to go his way for a change. As the clock turned for his lunch break he decided to head out to get something hot and sweet, walking into an elevator two people looked at him with a distain look in their eye. Confused, Joel just shrugged it off and ignored them thinking they just heard some bad news of some sort.

Getting out of the elevator, they ignored Joel's look and walk off towards their separate offices. Taking out his phone it started to buzz with notifications and links, tapping his password into his phone heart began to pound faster in his chest. He never gets this many notifications during working or even break hours. Clicking on a link that was sent to him a video popped up of a female bent over the desk with a older man behind her.

Squinting to look at the female properly his heart shatters and chest heaves, the woman in the video was you bent over the desk. No wonder he was getting dirty looks from his work colleagues, they must've know about this before he did. Muting his phone he watched the video, tears ran down his cheeks. Your mother brought you up to be better than this.

He calls his boss to say that a family matter has come up and if he could do an extra work shift tomorrow, his boss agrees and Joel headed towards his car, gets in and zooms to your college. Jaw clenching and knuckles turning white, he swears loudly in his car with the windows down.

1 hour later...

Joel parks in the parking lot, locks up his car and heads off into college. It was gone 14:00 when he arrived so you'd be finishing lesson soon which gives him plenty of time to talk to you privately. As he walks in, the college secretary asks "do you have any business here sir" walking upto the table his hands slam on the desk "I'm here to see y/n, I heard there's been a bit of trouble with her" anger flashers in his eyes.

"You must be y/n's stepfather, please follow me" as she got up from the chair, Joel's jaw was clenching again but harder this time. He was so pissed at what had taken place a few days ago in the classroom with y/n and her teacher. Stopping at the door of y/n's class the door opened and the secretary popped her head through "sorry to be a bother miss, but could I borrow y/n for a second".

A chill ran down your spine, getting up from your chair to face the consequence of what you did, a sigh left your lips and taking the bag with you, you left the class and followed behind your stepdad.

Entering an empty classroom, your stepdad asks the secretary if she could lock up the classroom so he could talk privately to you. She was hesitant at first but the matter had to be sorted, so she did what was asked and left.

Joel was looking at you with anger and distain, head looking down in "shame" he grabbed your chin and looked at you "A teacher, really! Why did you do it?". A smirk appeared onto your lips "why not? It was fun, the way he used his fingers to make me cu-" Joel slapped your face.

The smirk had gotten bigger "do that again, I dare you". Joel bent you over the desk, your nipples harden at the thought of your teacher. "You're one dirty fucking bitch aren't you, like getting used by older men huh?" His lips were near your ear "I bet you're getting off on this right now, getting bent over the desk at college, the thought of people viewing you through the window huh?".

Joel's fingers slide over your panties "fuck, you're so wet! I bet you're thinking of him huh, that teacher of yours, the way he made you cum by using his fingers" you bit your lip to keep the moan in "answer me slut!". Looking back at him with innocent looking eyes "yes daddy, I am" you said with a grin.

"well now I'm going to make you lose your mind". Sliding his finger in your soaked panties from behind, his teeth were nibbling at your ear backing up on him he pulled away "oh no honey, you don't deserve this, the right was taken when you fucked your teacher nasty girl, you've got to earn that".

A sigh left your lips, you really wanted to be filled with cock but he was right. You had to earn that back, getting back into his original position his chest was against your back, feeling the soppy cunt dripping with sweet juices "making such a mess on my fingers" pumping his fingers faster into you, Joel slid a hand over your mouth "stay quiet girl, we don't want anyone to bother us, unless you're into that" he said with a smirk.

Clenching around his fingers, he knew you were getting close to your climax "I can feel you clenching baby girl, you wanna come on daddy's fingers huh, I bet your still thinking of him? The way he was pressed up against you, grinding his cock against your ass hm? Or the way he fucked you dumb till your brain turned to mush"

Eyes rolling at the back of your head, legs shaking with ecstasy you bit down onto Joel's hand and squirted all over his fingers chest heaving, Joel backs away "dirty slut, my fingers need cleaning now! Come over here and suck them clean" sliding his fingers in your mouth, tongue swirling over them tasting yourself on them your pussy clenches around nothing.

"next time girl, I'll fuck you and won't stop till your pussy remembers my size".

This took two hours to write🤍

@strang3lov3 @toxicanonymity @cuntyhunty22 🫠

@milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape @rositaa01xxr 🖤

[changingplumbob]

Speed: x1 unless it's night time and sims are asleep. Occassionally I'll sneak into a faster speed during daylight hours if there's only one sim being controlled. So like for several of James' fishing meet ups I'd go slow, grab some screenshots, then x3 it through the next couple of sim hours.

Pausing: I pause often to get screenshots as I like to try get ones where sims have their eyes open. I'll also pause while I'm setting up group poses. Generally I'll also pause when queuing up an action for a sim as all my households are multiple sims and I don't like missing stuff.

[nenasspot]

finally here to drop on you: some thoughts on the first ep of starlight boys!

the auditions I have something to say about

blood sweat and tears: ke ming kai, li sheng jun and sheng qi

way too hard song choice. I get why so many trainees would choose a bts song, but why this song? please someone point me towards a cover of bs &t that had the same aura as the original, bc at this point i'm convinced it is uncoverable. the pitch of it, too, is so dangerous in the way that if you don't get the feel of that intro right, you're lost immediately...

breathe: syo and ryou kaito

don't like syo's style of singing. japanese vocal style that will need to go. otherwise, I'm actually pretty neutral about it.

darari: kim seong ju

not him going platinum seller with the trainees lmao. I mean, if anything, it proved the guiders right in giving him one star

crazy form: kim seon jae, han jeong woo and choi jun ho

obviously have been trained. something about the intro was way off, idk if it was the pitch or if it was just done monotonously but it got my sibling and me real scared. not necessary though! the rest of it was pretty great!

black suit: shao zi heng

WOW. he's really good, stable, good pronunciation and mindset, BEAUTIFUL too. spoilers include that he's in my top9 right now. I got real shady vibes at first, about the level of humbled he was giving ... felt like an act for a minute there, but it was probably just the nerves!

my house: han gyul, do ha, min jae, yoo jun

the babies did so great... the AURA in this performance was insane. the synchronized choreo at the start?? oh, these are idols, is what you're telling me

fantastic baby: rex, zhang ji jun and yang yan

I did not enjoy this. audition performances need to showcase skill and potential. if part of your potential is showmanship, then great. if you utilize showmanship purely to draw attention, then there was no potential shown. I can get why the trainees might have liked it though (song choice, atmosphere yada yada)

love 119: wang kun, he xi long, ngan chau yuet, float and zhang jing he

pretty much neutral about this. wasn't bad by any means, but I also already forgot all of them except wang kun

really really: nam son, lee da eul, park yeon wook and jeon min gyu

are they giving da eul another came from the bottom narrative? I feel like he should have come on by himself instead..

rush hour: lee jun hyuk

VERY impressive to do as a one-man performance. entertaining, stable

good guy: pentor and kris

so happy to see an sf9 performance! and done this well?? damn near brought tears to my eyes. pentor has a bright bright future ahead, and kris was also not to be forgotten!

answer: duan xing xing, yoo gwan woo and sun ying hao

xing xing is so much fun to watch!! it's obvious he's also having fun, and to be this stable while also being entertaining to look at is a real feat!

other things I need to talk about:

donghwa

I NEED him to do well!! I've missed him so much, the tension in my body any time a solo trainee stepped through that tunnel only for it to not be him was crazy, my sibling is my witness lmao

they put him all by himself, way up there, and I'm crossing all my fingers, and my toes too, that he doesn't let that add to his nerves but I feel like it's inevitable

his nose is still very pretty, he's wearing a mesh turtleneck, he's doing a song that has bodyrolls..... they put him last in the round-up of trainees that still have to go (way at the end of the ep) so let's hope that's a good thing!!

hangyul, baby. I first met you through a survival show, and I was very thankful for it then. seeing as you didn't debut with the unit, I was also glad to see you in px101. but they messed you over, put something in front of you that was the realization of your dream, only for it to be taken away...

the fact that trainees were like "he was in X1!" damn near put me out. I know that you have a shit label, that they're really just looking for viral moment after viral moment to keep the group in the collective memory. but I also know that this might help you to advance once more, get closer to that realization again.

so now that you're back here, and in a context where I'm able to vote for you, please believe that I will. we'll do our damnedest to not let you down, gyul.

[supernaturalshell]

Iwtv 1x01 rewatch thoughts below the cut

Lukeee in the Daniel commercial 🥰

Gosh the covid references in this show are actually so funny to me now

Also now knowing what Daniel remembered from the first interview it’s insane he even went to Dubai

This show is immediately captivating. It is going to get so big with Netflix

Much more focus on Daniel’s Parkinson’s in s1 kinda hoping we circle back to that

Still need to know why Louis is doing the second interview

So funny how Armand and Daniel’s first interaction is an argument

I have totally forgotten what pre vampire Louis looked like

I will forever the defend the genius of changing the setting/casting in order include the racial storylines

Poor Paul (x1)

The accent work on this show *chefs kiss*

Had to pause about 30 seconds into Louis and Lestat meeting from giggling and smiling so much

WHY ISNT THERE A SINGLE WEAK LINK IN THIS CAST

Lestat just openly flirting what a king

Lestats dramatic ass turning the lamp lights back on before eating the man I can not

What made Lestat think “yeah this is the appropriate time to start speaking in this man’s head”

“He ain’t white. He’s French” iconic

Bringing Lestat home for dinner is actually so funny

The parallel of Louis yelling stop and hitting the table at dinner with Armand doing the same thing to the coven

I know Lestat was mad as hell when he turned Louis and could no longer get in his head like he does this episode

Miss Lily said Ally with a capital A

Actually dying at the thought of Louis describing levitating gay vampire sex to Daniel causally within the first hour of their reunion

Poor Paul (x2)

lol at Lestat asking where they got Paul’s coffin 

The whole confession/church scene is a masterclass in acting

[chahna993]

New cryptocurrency on the rise BlockDAG

I just started mining a few weeks ago and I am very happy with this project. REFERRAL CODE: Chahna993

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[howzitsa]

Antec Atom B550 Non-Modular Power Supply Antec’s new generation of Atom Bronze power supplies is crafted for quality, efficiency, and performance. Featuring 80 PLUS® BRONZE certification, and a quiet 120 mm silent fan. The 120mm silent fan is ideal for quiet computing and is designed for longer life, guaranteeing hours of reliable operation. The Atom B550 utilizes Active PFC and provides efficiency during max and low loads – living up to the performance standards that we are known for. For safety, the CircuitShield™ suite of industrial-grade protections ensures that the power delivered to your system is safe and reliable in any environment. The Antec Atom B550 80PLUS Bronze ATX Power Supply is the power supply you won’t want to miss out on. FEATURES: 80PLUS® BRONZE Certified – To reduce your electricity bill. CircuitShield™ – Industrial grade protections: OPP/OVP/UVP/SCP 120mm Silent Fan FLAT Cable Thermal Manager – advanced fan control for optimal heat and noise management. Active Power Factor Correction (APFC) SPECIFICATIONS: Input: 200-240Vac, 6.3A, 50Hz Output: +3.3V/15A, +5V/18A, +12V/36.2A, -12V/0.3A, +5Vsb/2.5A Total Output: 550W Connectors: 24-Pin Main Connector x1 8(4+4) Pin EPS12V x1 8(6+2) Pin PCI-E x2 SATA x5 Molex x3 Cooling: 120mm Silent Fan Certification: 80PLUS® BRONZE WHAT’S IN THE BOX: Antec Atom B550 80PLUS Bronze ATX Power Supply – Black x1 User Guide x1

[wyllzel]

my best friend beat veilguard last night WOOHOO!

we're long distance but we're meeting up next weekend so we'll probably be talking for many hours about dragon age >:D !!! we've already been dissecting the companion quests over text but it'll be easier when we can just blab at each other bahaha

she started inquisition ages ago (before da4 came out) but had trouble getting into it bc the lore is so dense 🫠 so hopefully now that we've collectively beaten:

DAO (x1)

DA2 (x1)

DA4 (x2)

...lore will be a little easier to digest LOL

i did start inquisition, but the idea of going from "let's run errands in kirkwall 😍🤲" to managing a crusade was erm overwhelming so i did not make much progress last night LOL

also it just made me miss the da2 squad 😭 i'm so glad varric is still around 🥹 but i associate him so heavily w my hawke that seeing him makes me go 😟 WHY AREN'T YOU WITH CELERIE RN! :( 🫵

anyway 🤣 personally i find it very funny that we both romanced lucanis bc honestly he's kind of the perfect meld of both of our Fantasy Man Romantic Types LOL

me: miserable human guy w some kind of magical problem/component and pride issues

her: broody elf(-adjacent) guy w rogue abilities who still retains a sense of levity despite crushing circumstances

very specific, yet i can think of multiple examples of each LOL

anyway thank you lucanis for bringing people together 😍🫶

[tonyuk123]

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[atplblog]

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[gameinfoxtbr]

My Sweet Home Dungeon Codes

This is the best place for you if you are looking for My Sweet Home Dungeon Codes. For those who have been playing this game, then you know the fun that accompanies the process of defending the dungeon. The game offers a different concept in strategy gaming where the gamer has to defend his dungeon against the constant onslaught of heroes. However, do I have to inform you that My Sweet Home Dungeon codes where you can grab amazing bonuses? 🗝️ In this post, you will find all the updated My Sweet Home Dungeon codes and how to redeem them. Unlock gems, Minions, power boosts, and many more using these codes! Don’t be left with no option – read on for more in-depth information to help you in your dungeon defense. 🎮🛡️

GameInfoX

Active My Sweet Home Dungeon Codes for 2024 🎁

Here are the new working active My Sweet Home Dungeon codes that you can use now. These codes can assist you in leveling up your Minions, gaining access to gems, and getting special items for different improvements to your game. SOME OF THEM ARE ACTIVE FOR ONLY LIMITED TIME! ⏳ - HEROCRUSH22 – Redeem for 500 gems and exclusive Minions! 💎 - DEFENDTHECASTLE – Get a special item bundle to boost your defense. - EVILLORD888 – Unlock 10x power boosts for your Minions! 🔥 - MARCHFORWARD – Get Lantern x300, Gem x500, and ★5 Random Rune x1 (Valid until March 27, 2024). - RUNECHANGE – Redeem for Hidden Map x3 and Ancient Scroll x3 (Valid until March 24, 2024). - WELCOMESPRING – Get ★45 Random Rune x3, Gem x1K, Lamp x500, ★15 Random Minion x10, and ★1~5 Random Skill x10 (Valid until March 20, 2024). - BITTERSWEET – Gem x500, Lamp x300, Honor Token x3 (Valid until March 12, 2024). - HAPPYSEOL – Get Lamp x500, Ancient Scroll x5, and Express Ticket x5 (Valid until March 6, 2024). - RUNESET – Unlock 500 Gems, 300 Lamps, and 30,000 Pieces of Experience (Valid until February 29, 2024). - TWOHUNDREDTH – Get Soul of ★5 Minion x2, ★15 Random Minion x10, ★15 Random Skill x10, and Gold x2M (Valid until February 21st, 2024). - SUNRISE – Redeem for Gem x500 and Lamp x300 (Valid until January 30th, 2024). - HOLIDAYDUNGEON – Unlock Gem x1K, ★15 Random Skill x10, and ★15 Random Rune x10 (Valid until January 17th, 2024). - BEASTNCARROT – Get Lamp x300 (Valid until January 3rd, 2024). Do not forget to take these codes before they are removed and improve your dungeon further! For the new codes update, please visit My Sweet Home Dungeon Codes update and news on the future.

GameInfoX

How to Redeem My Sweet Home Dungeon Codes 💡

Now, how to Redeem your codes in My Sweet Home Dungeon is easy, simply follow the step-by-step guide below. Just follow these simple steps: - How to – Step by Step guide: Step one: Launch the My Sweet Home Dungeon application. - To open the settings click the menu buttonmarked as 2 as shown in the figure below. - Choose the ‘Redeem Code’ option. - Type in the code in the box as it is written (including capitals) and press submit. - Please be informed that your rewards will be credited to your account immediately! 🎉 If you want to learn more about how to redeem codes, don’t forget to read our comprehensive My Sweet Home Dungeon game guide.

Why You Should Use My Sweet Home Dungeon Codes 🔥

This will enable your character to unlock different items in My Sweet Home Dungeon such as gems, Minions, lamps, and other special skills. Here’s why you don’t want to miss out: - Boost Your Minions: Certain codes provide Minions that are necessary for protection from enemies. When you have exclusive Minions, the headquarters defense toward the dungeons becomes much stronger. - Save Resources: Promo codes give out free gems and lamps so that one would not spend money on the game or even play for many hours. - Unlock Rare Items: Sometimes, codes may provide you with special items such as Ancient Scrolls, Hidden Maps, or ★5 Random Runes. Pro Tip: For instance, some of these codes are associated with events or occasions, therefore it would be best to check for updates / or news regarding My Sweet Home Dungeon Codes Developer consistently.

What Is My Sweet Home Dungeon? 🏰🎮

My Sweet Home Dungeon is a game that specifically belongs to the scheme of strategy RPGs, and gamers are to play for the dungeon protector. Your objective is to repel the waves of heroes who will invade your castle. Minions are called into play – each of them has its special abilities and characteristics, and it will be you who will collect troops and defend them from an attack. The game has a unique feature called the Possession System which allows the Demon Lord to possess and boost the power of Minions for a short time. 🛡️ The game is amazing and packed with fun for RPG lovers as well as added to it a new dimension of strategy. Read more about it in the My Sweet Home Dungeon Game guide.

GameInfoX

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) ❓

Q-1 When are the new My Sweet Home Dungeon codes?A- There are several things to know about new codes – they can be distributed during in-game events, updates, or special holidays. Refresh My Sweet Home Dungeon Codes’ latest update and news section to know more about the available codes!Q-2 My Sweet Home Dungeon codes: How to get them and how long do they last?A- Every code has a specific validity period which means that the user has to use the code as early as possible before it becomes invalid.Q-3 Is it possible to reuse a code?A- There is no, you cannot use them more than once, each code can only be used once per account.Q-4 What are the possibilities as to what a person can have as a reward for using codes?A- This means that you can get hold of such valuable items as gems, Minions, special runes, lamps, and many others that aid in the enhancement of the defense approach in the game.Q-5 As for the My Sweet Home Dungeon codes, special codes, do they come with limitations for using them for me?A- Please, ensure you input the codes as displayed here, some of them are in capital letters while others are in small letters. Some codes can be location-dependent or event-based.Q-6 From the findings of the study, it is possible to conclude that it is likely to find more codes in the future.A- Indeed, do remember to check the My Sweet Home Dungeon Codes Tier List for more as the developers do release new codes from time to time!

Conclusion: Level Up Your Gameplay with My Sweet Home Dungeon Codes 🏆

You should also know that there is nothing easier than improving your outcomes and using My Sweet Home Dungeon Codes. No matter if it’s finding gems, strong minions, or any other rare items these codes are crucial in forming perfect defense as a Demon Lord. Remember to use the codes before they expire and do not forget to wait for other new codes from the store! Are you ready to stand and fight for your dungeon like never before has been done? Use these codes and guide your Minions to win! 🏰⚔️ Word Count: 895 Read the full article

[blogwezyrpodrozy]

🚀BlockDAG X1 Miner: GEAR UP FOR MAINNET!🚀

⚡️We got major updates and achievements that will take your BlockDAG experience to the next level. Here’s what’s coming to your BlockDAG X1 Miner to make it even better:

🚨BIG Announcements: BETA Testing Success!

➡️20 Million BDAG Mined: Equivalent to $1 million at launch value! ➡️100,000+ Verified Users: Community is growing stronger!

🌀Important Changes & 📈Crucial Updates!

🚀Mining Rate: Remains the same. 🚀Referral Rate: Adjusted to 0.05 BDAG/hour as we transition from Devnet to Testnet. The initial higher rate was promotional, and with over 100k users, we're returning to our original plan. Early miners gain the most advantage! 🚀Presale Requirement: Need at least 7,500 BDAG from presale to migrate to mainnet. This is a crucial step, do not miss it! 🚀Balance Release: For users who didn’t participate in the presale or don’t hold coins when the mainnet goes live, your X1 balance will be released over two years: 50% in the first year and 50% in the second year. This ensures fairness and prevents market oversupply.

🔄BlockDAG X1 Miner App Updates Available on all platforms!📦 ✅ 📱

✅Confirm "Sign Out" Message: Prevents accidental sign-outs (stops mining). ✅Spam Reward Clean-Up: Look out for "banned" status in your referrals. ✅Updated FAQ: Updates pushed from our side. ✅Force Update Notification: Pop-up prompts to update to the new version.

🚀Presale Milestone & Upcoming Power Announcements!

💎Presale: Our presale has now exceeded a whopping $64.8 million. If you haven’t gotten your BDAG LOAD yet, NOW is the time to BUY at the BEST PRICE! 🚨HUGE Power Announcements: Stay tuned for next week’s game-changing announcement. Trust us, you don’t want to miss this!

Secure your BDAG, and get ready for an incredible journey. The future is bright!⭐

[theoreticaltranstherian]

Things I Miss (A poem made up of trauma)

I miss those days

I miss logging onto my computer

And opening our game

And finding you within

And finding companionship from strangers

And finding a way to spend hours

With all those people I felt like I knew

Who all lived totally different lives

But all bonded over one thing or another

Boredom

Loneliness

Strategy

Chaos

And then there was you

I met you one fateful day

On a random ship

Just helping The First To Leave

And I said hi.

I got to know you

We were the first

We had watched it all come together

We built the first together

We met our chaotic friend and his brothers

We met our phoenix friend

We met our free friend

We met our neurologist friend

We met our freind

We met the pilot

We met Qd, 9_, x1, and a dozen others

And we watched them leave

We watched cupid destroy everything we made

We watched J crush our revival

We watched the Phoenix burn out for the last time

We watched as chaos turned to numbness

We watched as the world fell apart

And we clung to it

Longer than we should have.

I think it was just because I related to you

You felt trapped

Like you had no one to talk to

You were ignored and abandoned

And I was too.

I hate you

For all the time I wasted on you

All those nights I stayed up thinking about you

All those times I felt my heart sink

And my stomach rise

As I read the ever familiar messages

"I hate you" "It's all your fault" "How could you"

Every time it was my fault

Even when it wasn't

And I didn't stop you.

I Love you

I truly do

I think about you So much

I still blame you for everything i went through

I keep thinking about what it'd be like if

I had never joined that game

I had never kept coming back

I had made a new account

I hadn't told you I had discord

I didn't try to fix all our fights

I just want to go back

Before you lied about That

Before you asked me out

Before I found a way to talk to you

Before I got forced offline

Before the third shop

Before the second shop

Before the first shop

Back to the mothership

And stopped myself

from just saying

that one

simple

message

"Hello there"

I miss you

Or do I?

Is it you I miss

Or is it the version of you

That I had in my head

From the first day I met you?

i don't really miss you.

I miss..

I miss the idea of you.

The feelings I had when I knew you.

I miss the nostalgia of the old days

I miss the adrenaline of arguments

I miss the unbridled joy I felt

Logging on every day

knowing

I had people

Who would miss me

Who would care if I was gone

Who would ask "Where were you" if I am not there

People who were my friends.

But reading back

All these lines

I don't miss you

I miss our friends, I miss our friendship,

But by no means

By no definition

And in no universe,

Is it you that I miss.

BACKGROUND FOR THE POEM UNDER THE CUT

I used to play this game called drednot about 5 years ago. I joined a ship called Pineapple Mothership and said "Hello there" to two players, JEFF98 and Angry. That was the start of the pineapple clan, where I logged onto this game every second I could and played with those two and Chaos1 and Havoc and Free and Neurological Rest and Pizzalord and freind and a ton of others, and we spent like 2 years working on different ships. After multiple frustrating griefings we gave up and before we all dispersed we exchanged discord usernames. I got into alot of fights with angry this whole time, usually because he said something super rude or frustrating or took offense to something I said jokingly and my pride won't let me back down from a challenge, and I always put in the effort to fix our friendship. Then I got kicked off of discord by my parents and I found a loophole by going on roblox and messaging angry because je was my only roblox friend. We ended up dating because we bonded over trauma with parents and depression and self harm. We were together for a year and he was worse then than usual. He was two-faced around me vs around his friends, started fights when someone disagreed with him, and manipulated me with threats of suicide and self harm. This was when I started talking to myself with a different name and having gaps in my memory and holding my own hand and being convinced I was more than one person in my body. He ended up convincing me to run away to keep him from running away himself and because I was scared for him I did it. I ended up spending 2 months at an outpatient place because once I got caught my brain sort of shut down and I laid on a pile of blankets in my closet on the floor constantly. I started getting better and at this point I realized what Angry was doing to me. He also refused to use the right pronouns for me. I ended up breaking up with him, at which point he and his friend Sweat decided to fake his suicide attempt. I started freaking out thinking I had indirectly killed someone, and then Sweat decided the joke was over and told me. I obviously lost it, and that was when I realized what he was doing and how shitty of a person he was. I sent him a super long email, telling him how unhealthy he was and that he needed to get a therapist. I still think about him, and recently I have started to relapse a little but because I went back on the game and I found him again and he was saying stuff to me. I needed to get this all down, and I think I'll be better soon.

[sanajames]

Bash Laptops: Discover Top Picks for Your Tech Needs

Are you ready to elevate your tech game to new heights? Look no further than Bash laptops – the epitome of style, performance, and innovation. Whether you're a seasoned professional, a creative enthusiast, or a student on the go, Bash has you covered with an impressive lineup of laptops designed to meet your every need. Let's delve into the world of Bash laptops and uncover the top picks that will take your computing experience to the next level.

The Bash Experience: Unmatched Performance and Style

When it comes to laptops, Bash stands out from the crowd with its commitment to excellence in both performance and design. Each Bash laptop is meticulously crafted to deliver unparalleled performance, whether you're crunching numbers, editing videos, or gaming into the wee hours of the night. But Bash doesn't stop there – with sleek, modern designs and premium materials, these laptops are as stylish as they are powerful, making them the perfect accessory for any tech-savvy individual.

Top Picks for Every Need

1. Bash Pro X1: Powerhouse Performance

The Bash Pro X1 is a true powerhouse, equipped with the latest Intel Core i9 processor and NVIDIA GeForce RTX graphics. Whether you're tackling demanding workloads or immersing yourself in the latest AAA games, the Pro X1 delivers uncompromising performance and speed. With a stunning 4K display and Thunderbolt 4 connectivity, this laptop is a must-have for professionals and gamers alike.

2. Bash Air S1: Ultra-Portable Productivity

For those who are always on the move, the Bash Air S1 is the perfect companion. Slim, lightweight, and incredibly portable, this laptop is designed for maximum productivity on the go. Featuring a long-lasting battery, a crisp Full HD display, and lightning-fast SSD storage, the Air S1 ensures you never miss a beat, whether you're working from a coffee shop or catching up on emails during your commute.

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4. Bash Flex E1: Versatility Redefined

The Bash Flex E1 is the ultimate 2-in-1 laptop, offering the versatility of a laptop and tablet in one sleek device. With a flexible hinge design and touch-sensitive display, the Flex E1 adapts to your needs, whether you're typing up documents, sketching ideas, or watching movies in tent mode. Powered by Intel Evo platform, this laptop delivers exceptional performance and battery life, ensuring you stay productive all day long.

Conclusion: Elevate Your Tech Game with Bash Laptops

With a diverse range of top picks to choose from, Bash laptops are the ultimate choice for anyone looking to elevate their tech game. Whether you're seeking unmatched performance, portability, creativity, or versatility, Bash has a laptop that's tailored to your needs. So why settle for anything less? Discover the world of Bash laptops today and experience the difference for yourself.

[wildandsexyjacks]

Where We Left Off

Pairing: Cho Seungyoun + Reader

Genre: Fluff? Maybe a little comedy? idk

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Mild swearing

In retrospect, it would have been better to just say no. 

When your friend came to work giggling and saying she had met the perfect guy for you to get over your idiotic ex-boyfriend with, you should have thanked her and politely declined her offer to set up a date with him.

It came from a good place, a place of love and concern, you knew that much. The poor girl had to put up with your incessant crying for over a week after your breakup with Seungyoun, so of course, she was worried - but you were fine now. Really.

The problem is: from the day you first met her, you’ve always had a hard time denying her anything. She’s always so bright and cute she can get away with pretty much anything, so just to humor her you had decided to accept the offer and go on the damn date.

Now you wish you hadn’t done it.

Not that the guy’s terrible. Far from it, he seems actually pretty decent. Fresh out of med school, he wants to save lives and help people and believes health care should be free for everyone. He’s smart and handsome, speaks with a lovely accent, and would generally fit your friend’s description of him as The Perfect Guy™…. If he wasn’t so dull you can’t even remember his name. Colin? Connor? You really have no idea.

While he tells you yet another story of his life as a medical resident, you poke at your chicken with a fork and consider faking a stroke or something simply to make him shut up. Then you remember he’s a doctor. It would probably just be an opportunity for him to showcase his abilities. 

Damn.

“... And I was like ‘Mrs. Kim, you can’t smoke in here!’ but she blew smoke right on my face and went all ‘I’ll do as I please’ and…” someone clears their throat behind you, and he stops telling his story “Um... Can I help you?”

To your surprise, Cho Seungyoun goes around the table and stops by your side. He looks better than he should while being your ex, and a small corner of your mind tells you it’s not good that you noticed it. For some reason, he seems mad.

“Y/N! Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” he waves a folded paper sheet on your face “You weren’t picking up your phone so the doctor called me to confirm your appointment. Why didn’t you tell me?”

You frown. What the hell is he talking about?

“What was your plan?” Seungyoun insists, not even giving you a chance to answer, speaking slightly louder now “Dropping out of school and praying I would never find out? Well, that ship has sailed now.”

Turning his back to the guy at your table - Jesus, what is his name? - Seungyoun waggles his eyebrows in a way you know too well and then it hits you: he’s effectively making this up to try and ruin your date, even though you don’t understand why.

It takes more effort than you initially thought, but since you were looking for a way out, you manage to keep a straight face and decide to play along.

“We are over, Seungyoun. It’s none of your business.”

“Excuse me, sir.” Your date chimes in, confused “Who are you?”

“He’s leaving.” You explain.

Seungyoun flashes you one final amused smile before turning to face him - Maybe his name is Colin? He looks like a Colin.

“Who am I? Who am...? Who are you?!” He facepalms, and lets out a muffled sigh through his hand “Who’s this, Y/N? Your new boy? I will die before I let this tool raise my son!”

“Wait-” Possibly-Colin looks at him a little shocked. “What?”

“Daughter.” You correct with a deadpan. “And I’m sure he’ll be a better dad than you!”

“What?” as Possibly-Colin asks again, you try really hard not to laugh.

Seungyoun’s lower lip trembles, and for a second you think he might actually cry “It’s… It’s a girl?”

Completely panicked by now, your date stands up so fast he bumps into the table, then fishes for his wallet inside his back pocket and proceeds to drop some money on the table.

“OKAY, you two clearly have a lot to talk about so I’ll leave you to it.” he takes his jacket and phone “I’ll call you, Y/N.”

“Colin, wait!” You call, getting up from your chair.

“It’s Charles.”

Charles, of course. He leaves you at the table with your ex and made-up baby and aims for the door. When he’s finally out of sight, Seungyoun makes a sad face, pouting at you.

“I don’t think he’s going to call.”

The both of you break out laughing until you remember you’re mad at him.

“Why are you here? And more importantly what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He stands awkwardly by the table, tapping his foot on the marble floor. You can almost see the gears turning in his head to come up with a reasonable motive for him to show up out of the blue and ruin your date.

“Well, I was the one who brought you here for the first time, all those years ago, remember? You don’t own the place and it’s MY favorite restaurant too, I can come whenever I want.” he rolls his eyes, defensive “I was just having a few drinks with Hangyul-” he points to the bar and you recognize his roommate waving at you from the stool “then I saw you here with Mr. Fancy Pants and noticed you were being viciously tortured with utter boredom so I decided to help.”

He's absolutely right but you’ll never admit to it, so in an attempt to avoid lying you yank the folded paper from his hand to take a peep inside. It’s a music theory exam from a class you both go to and you remember staying up late to study together on more than one occasion. It’s his favorite subject.

“You’re a fucking troll, Seungyoun.”

He laughs and winks at you.

“You used to like that about me, darling.”

The statement makes you frown.

“Don’t call me that.”

His smile falters. “You used to like that, too.” He tries, in a small voice.

“Used to.”

You stare at each other as your dinner gets cold and some clients whisper about what’s happening. You hear the words baby and boyfriend very clearly and sigh.

“What do you want, Seungyoun?”

As if you had invited him to stay, he moves to sit on the now vacant chair, and you slide back into your seat as well. Being exposed to Seungyoun’s sweet smile is probably a set back to your arduous work on getting him out of your system, but maybe if you talk it out like grown adults and then walk your separate ways, it will hurt less to see him in class.

He shifts in his seat, then starts fiddling with a napkin while avoiding eye contact. He seems nervous, almost scared, and chooses his words very carefully before speaking: 

“Listen, I know I don’t deserve the best boyfriend award...”

“... You don’t say!” You look at him blankly and he puts his hands up in defeat.

“Okay, point taken. But come on Y/N, we were pretty good together for almost a year. It wasn’t all bad, was it?”

It wasn’t, really. In fact, Seungyoun was fun and romantic and gentle and in general a great boyfriend when he was around. The problem was that he was never around all that much, to begin with, especially after he started participating in rap battles with some guys from college. Between classes and friendships and his underground rapper stuff, he was too busy to be with you most of the time, it was like he always had more serious plans or some sort of inevitable appointment. You’d tried to be supportive, after all, he had worked so hard to get to where he was now in his career as a rising hip-hop star... But after so many months you couldn’t help feeling neglected, so you broke things off because you deserved better than what Seungyoun was willing to offer at that time. It was a difficult decision and you missed him a lot at first, but you were better now.

Sort of.

For the most part, at least.

“What do you want?” You ask again, annoyed at him for showing up when you were trying to forget him and at yourself for letting him do so.

“Nothing is fun without you.” He states matter of factly “My hip-hop gigs don’t mean anything when you’re not there to cheer me on. Cold pizza at 3 a.m tastes horrible if you’re not by my side pouring ketchup in literally everything.” He rolls his eyes “It’s a disgusting habit of yours but I miss even that. You know... I didn’t even finish watching Game Of Thrones because you weren’t there to cuss at Jon Snow with me.” He then sighs and looks at you in a way that breaks your heart “I can’t ever sleep on Friday nights anymore because you were supposed to sneak in and share the bed with me and when you don’t it just... It doesn’t feel right.”

“Seungyoun...”

“Tell me how to fix this.” He begs, clasping his hands together until his knuckles go white “Please, I need to fix this. I’ve been reflecting on what’s truly important in my life and what I hope for the future, and I can be the boyfriend you deserve if you give me another chance. I will do that, I mean it. Please, let’s start over.”

He looks the same yet slightly different - all wide eyes and trembling hands now, a picture of both hope and sorrow. Your heart aches for the millionth time in these three months you’ve been apart. 

Nothing is as fun without him too, you realize.

Not your classes, not binge-watching tv shows for two days straight on weekends, not drinking cheap wine while discussing classical music until you fall asleep on the floor of your dorm.

Certainly not having dinner dates at your favorite restaurant either, and that’s just one of the many reasons why Colin-Charles never stood a chance.

The place is packed and you can feel the heavy stares of every customer and employee near your table on the scene unfolding, but you don’t really care. Heart racing like crazy, you reach across the table - knocking the flower vase over in the process - and grab Seungyoun by the lapels. His eyes grow big as he waits for whatever is coming, and not even you are sure if you’d rather kiss him or slap him when your lips come together. Then you pull back again and leave him leaning over the table blinking at you in surprise.

“I don't think we can start over, but maybe we could pick up from where we left off.”