#imma tag this as smut even though there's only an inkling because I promise the smut is coming
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He's Definitely Obsessed With You: Chapter 1
Plot: You're readjusting to life after a gunshot wound to the shoulder in Vietnam, figuring yourself out and navigating the waters of life back in the States. The only thing that really kept you steady was the thought of Logan, although after his letters to you dropped off, you still thought about him, and begin to wonder and doubt- if anything had ever been there between you two at all.
A/N: Okay, I PROMISE the next chapter will have more Logan. I really wanted to build on where reader was at in life both physically and mentally, and what they were going through. It's important I SWEAR. This also came out really long. I just kept typing and adding more and more to it. It's not perfect but if I don't post it now I'll never post it
Warnings: Reader gets horny af thinking about Logan (18+ please, although it's not super descriptive), mentions of blood and gore (not super in depth), politics regarding Vietnam, allusions to PTSD, and reader has anxiety and slight depression, mentions of nightmares mentions of weed, making out, etc. Probably spelling and grammar mistakes
Word Count: 6319
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CHAPTER 1: Thatâs Really Unhealthy Honestly
1971, New York City, New York
âYouâre not going to pursue becoming a doctor?âÂ
You sat across from Doctor Frank Jones, the military doctor you were working under back in Vietnam. Today was your last day of physical therapy, rehabbing your arm and shoulder after getting shot in the jungle, a stray bullet hitting you- instead of the soldiers that stood guard around you while you were attempting an amputation on a young private, who had gotten stuck in a grisly dirt trap made by the Vietcong, and you were not able to get his leg out with the damage that had been done. Medics, doctors, nurses, were usually never targeted, either side knew not to hurt the people of medicine, that was just a rule of war, but that still didnât mean you werenât in any danger.Â
Doctor Jones wanted to meet with you, having kept track of your progress when you returned to the states. It wasnât his job to do so, but he was fond of you, and saw potential of making a good doctor out of you. You, on the other hand, werenât so sure about it anymore. You hoped he wouldnât push you.
Jones was a good man, a good doctor. He was older, and had served in the military a long time as a doctor. Salt and pepper hair, handsome, with a polite and genuine face that was beginning to see his years of military, worry lines that merely added to his character, he reminded you of an older version of Rock Hudson. His voice was steady and low, and he talked like a professor, quick and precise with his words.Â
âNot now at least, I havenât decided.â You informed him, cupping your mug of warm lemon herbal tea you ordered from the pleasant little coffee shop that you agreed to meet him at. It was in one of the less crowded neighborhoods of New York, but traffic and people were still bustling by the window, the door of the shop opening and shutting every few minutes, as a people came in to grab a coffee or a donut as they continued their daily routine, routine full of coffee, work, and some kind of personal dilemna, some angsty problem they face in their day to day life, and maybe a touch of romance, if theyâre lucky. It was 8 in the morning, the world was waking up, and carrying on their lives.
As if there wasnât a war going on.Â
You have not exactly adjusted to your new life and routine. You had been formally discharged from the military, with some kind of honors, something your CO pushed for you, due to the work you did over in Vietnam. You didnât really care about that though. You never joined the military for fancy honors and discounts, you joined because you wanted to help people. You had all your reasons why, your own personal backstory, but in the end it was just what you wanted to do. Although you do appreciate your CO vouching for you. Now, you were left wondering what to do with yourself. A month of recovery and rehab, you spent it trying to figure out what you wanted to do when you finally were done with it all. Life back in the States was an adjustment, your sleep schedule was wrecked, a mixture of nightmares and insomnia. Your family and friends were happy to have you back, and you gotten countless visits from them- and while you were happy to see the familiar faces to, it felt weird just to jump into this new reality, where everyone is okay, happy, and not counting on you to save them. Youâd think it give you some release, the pressure and stress dissipating the moment you got your discharge papers, but to be honest, you could never be more tense.Â
It occurred to you that you had zoned out, staring at your tea that was slowly becoming cold, Doctor Jones having called your name multiple times, and it wasnât until he gently touched your arm that drew you from your thoughts.Â
âHave you seen a therapist?â He asked you, concern spread across his face.Â
âWhat?â
âI get returning back to reality after what you went through can beâŚdisorientating. Thereâs nothing wrong with searching for some help.â He says gently, letting go of your arm and returning to his espresso.Â
âReality?â You sat back in your chair, sitting your tea on the table, your voice tinged with irritation. âFelt pretty real back there.âÂ
âYou know what I mean.â He mutters. âSo, have you?â
âNo.â You shook your head. It wasnât that you saw anything wrong with therapy, or that you had trouble admitting you needed help. You were still adjusting, and you just werenât ready to go and start working through the last four years of your service in âNam. You wanted to figure out your next step, and get yourself settled first. âI will, I just want to figure things out first.â
He nodded. âSo, are you planning to stay in New York?âÂ
You pursed your lips together, and shook your head. âProbably should, since my familys nearby. Honestly though the city justâŚisnât where I want to be right now.â You said, your mind flashing with the place you did want to go. Somewhere you originally planned to just visit, but now your mind- your trusty gut instinct, was telling you that maybe itâs where you should be all along. âIâm thinking of moving out into somewhere small.â
âAh, searching for a little peace and quiet?â He hummed, a tight lipped smile. You returned the same smile back and nodded, hunching in your seat a little bit.Â
âYeah, itâsâŚa place in Canada. In Alberta, a small little town.â You say. A look of surprise came across his face. âA friend, told me about it. He was from there and he always talked about how beautiful it was. He always thought Iâd enjoy it, long as I get used to the harsh winters.â Your smiled turned into something warmer, as you thought about Logan. There was an ache in your chest though, something in your heart.Â
You werenât able to say goodbye to him. He wasnât there when you got shot, and everything happened so fast, as they had thrown you onto the closest evac to get you to some medical hospital, since no one could take care of you there the way you did for them. When your belongings got sent back to you, sent to the hospital you were staying at in the States, he had written a letter, urging you to rest, and a heartfelt apology for not being there for you. It was that, and a polaroid photo one of the medic boys took of you two, his arm around your shoulder, his body turned to you, as he practically glared at the camera in his trademark expression, yet still managing to look handsome as always, and you, a big smile on your face, your hand up in a âvictoryâ sign, which somehow turned into a symbol of peace in this era, and you were leaning in to him. You keep it on you all the time, a small comfort of him carried in your bag or pocket. You of course quickly wrote back to him, telling him everything that happened, and expressed how deeply you missed him. It was unusually emotional for the both of you, considering you typically took jabs at each other, and joked around more often than not. Yet you both were always able to open up to each other- without fear of judgement. It was true, you missed him, and despite the fact that you were home, surrounded by loved ones, you felt more alone than ever because he wasnât there. Perhaps thatâs why youâre chosing to move to his hometown.Â
âThat sounds nice.â He nods, noticing the way your cheeks turned pink at the mention of your friend. âWell, Iâm sorry to hear youâll be putting off med-school. Iâm glad youâre taking the time to rest though, thatâs more important.â
âThank you.â You say softly. âItâs not a permanent decision. I just want to figure myself out-â
âYou donât have to explain yourself to me. You have a good head on your shoulders. I know whatever you do will be the right thing. I simply want to just encourage you.â He stops you, holding a hand up, and then using that hand to brush his hair back, before resting it on the table. Despite his words, his body language told you he was slightly disappointed. âIf you do however, change your mind-â
âIâll call.â You smiled. You knew why he wanted this for you. Society was changing, while women doctors were not unheard of, it was still a rarity. It was part of the reason why you werenât sure about going to med-school, you werenât sure if you were ready to face the scrutiny that you would surely get. Not that anything like that has ever stopped you before, but Vietnam had changed something in you, you were lost in yourself and what to do, the world was moving so fast around you and you couldnât keep up. He smiled back. âWhat about you?â You asked him,Â
âIâll be staying in New York. I was called to work on a project not far from here.â
âYouâre still in the military?â
âOf course. With the injury I sustained,I canât go back to âNam, I wouldnât be fast enough to work the pace itâs like there. They figure Iâm more useful with this project, will supposedly help with the war effort.âÂ
âHelp with the war effort?â You asked, annoyance creeping up your stomach. âSurely you donât still think this war is necessary, right? Itâs gone on long enough?âÂ
âOf course. I still feel a duty for my country though. I donât blame you for feeling the way you do-â
âFrank, câmon.â You scoffed. âThereâs no reason to be over there. I watched so many young boys, and men, die, or get so messed up they lose apart of themselves-â
âI know, I was there too-â
âThen you shouldnât want to help with the effort.â You voice rose a bit, filed with tension and anger, falling back into your seat and crossing your arms. âEvery little thing you do for them, in regards to Vietnam, just keeps this war going, those boys over there - innocent people in that country are still dying and-â You stopped yourself, as he looked at you with indignation. âSorry.â You mutter.Â
âI get your frustration. I do believe the war should end, and I believe If I help with the effort, then perhaps I can help make things end faster too.â He explains himself calmly. Your hands were shaking, it wasnât the first time you gotten heated over the topic of Vietnam since youâve been home. It frustrated you to no end watching people endlessly argue on whether it should happening or not. Taking a deep breath, you nodded, sipping at your tea, now having gotten cold because you completely forgot about it.Â
âLetsâŚjust move on.â You suggested, feeling like if you linger on the thought of âNam any longer you were going to burst in the middle of the shop. He nodded, and you listened to Doctor Jones ramble on, mentioning he couldnât give you details on the project, but it was exciting nonetheless. Then he switched to talk about his kids, his son having turned into a huge hippie - which ended up making you laugh, as Jones was very patriotic for the most part, loyal to the country, but he seemed to understand and accept his sons opinions and lifestyle. Perhaps his injury had given him a new perspective on life, a new meaning, even if he was still aiding the militaryâŚ
You, though, you were still trying to find your meaning.
1972, Alberta, Canada
âOh shit!âÂ
You yelped as you stepped outside the porch of your house, into the freezing cold air that surrounded you. You wrapped your arms around you in attempt to warm yourself, as you quickly ran down the steps of your porch and to the mailbox. The metal door immediately froze your fingers as you pulled it open, peering inside for mail, and you spotted two envelopes. You reached in, snatching them and quickly ran back into the house, stomping your feet on the outdoor rug that sat in front of the door, and kicking them off once you stepped into the warmth of your house, the heat cloaking around you- just biting at the cold that stung your cheeks.Â
âGirl you are CRAZY!âÂ
You smiled at your roommate, Rose Mitchell, a lovely yet feisty woman, around your age. You met her at your current job, nursing at the âlocalâ hospital. (Not so local, but itâs the closest hospital to this little town youâve moved too.). She was a new nurse too, and you invited her to be your roommate at the shaggy little house you found and slowly worked on fixing up. You had the money to be on your own, but you and Rose had become fast friends, despite being polar opposites in some ways.Â
You loved rock music, but she was all about pop and that new disco, and you both found balance in enjoying jazz. Your styles couldnât be more different as well, you sported jeans, bellbottoms, band shirts, jumpsuits, crop tops, the more comfortable style of clothing in this new era you were finding yourself in, while she wore short skirts, leopard prints, heels, tight dresses that barely covered your thighs- and she looked damn good in it. With such opposite styles of clothing, it guaranteed you wouldnât steal each others clothing. You admired Rose for her honesty and confidence, her ability to fit in anywhere and everywhere because she was sure of who she was. She didnât allow society to turn her into something she was not, especially with the discrimination she had to face growing up. She was a party girl, and why she decided to move to this small town with you, instead of the bigger city where your work is located, you wonât understand- but she had become your closest friend, another girl you could talk about those girl things with. She was close to your height when she wasnât in heels, had a beautiful natural afro that she was quite proud of, and dark brown eyes that matched her skin color. Sheâs the only reason you havenât technically become a hermit yet, as she pushed you out of zone, making you go to parties and bars and concerts with her nearly every weekend - and while at first you dreaded it, you began to grow to enjoy the time and memories you were making. In fact, youâve really begun to start building a life for yourself here.Â
When you first moved here, you were still struggling with yourself, adjusting to your life, a new job, and a completely new environment compared to New York, that you were previously residing in. You were shutting yourself off from people, staying in the comfort of your home, trying to pick up old hobbies you left behind before you had joining the army medics. You believed yourself to think that you were doing fine, but the longer you went, the more anxiety began to build inside you, nightmares plagued you, and you even found yourself growing paranoid when out alone in public, afraid of getting jumped, of getting shot. As much as you didnât want to do it and begin to work through the trauma of it, you forced yourself into therapy. It got you to be a little lighter, to open up, which is how you ended up talking to Rose, and how she ended up your roommate. Slowly, as you were working through things, life became a little brighter, and less lonely. You made new friends, new connections. You still struggled deep inside, there were still days whereâd you feel haunted by the ones left in Vietnam, men who always appeared tough as steel, clinging to you and sobbing, young boys begging for their moms to save them, the blood and the gore you witnessed that no human should witness. Youâd have these impulsive urges, to pack up and go back to the country and do something. You may not be able to save every life but you could at least provide comfort to them, you could help, but you knew better. Going back wasnât the answer. Looking back wasnât the answer. It was time to move forward, and you always been good at embracing the future.
The only thing missing, was him
Rose was curled up on the couch, a blanket settled over her, as she had a book in one hand and tea that you made her in the other. âYou are so obsessed with the mail, itâs really unhealthy. Just because your waiting for a man to writeâ She clicked her tongue.Â
You sorted through the two envelopes, one addressed to her, which you flicked at her playfully, it flying across the room like a boomerang until she smacked it away with her hand, gasping dramatically at your audacity. You giggled, looking at the other envelope- it was addressed to you, but it wasnât from who you wanted it to be from. You groaned, dropping your shoulders. Roses smile faded.Â
âNothing?â She asked. You shook your head, setting the envelope into a basket, stacked with mail addressed to you that you didnât care to open. âSorry hunâŚ.â She says sympathetically as you move to sit next to her, crisscrossing your legs.Â
âI donât get why he hasnât been writing.â You say, bringing your nails up and chewing, an anxious habit youâve formed.Â
âHeâs probably just busy.â She wrote. âYouâve been over there, didnât you say you canât get a break some days?âÂ
âYeahâŚâ Your eyes stared at the ground. As embarrassing as it was for you to admit, his letters were like a lifeline for you. You had been writing back and forth a little over a year now. You excitedly told him about moving to his hometown- even bought a polaroid and took pictures of the town, the forests, and your house to send back to him. You wrote about your job, and the friends youâve made. Heâd tell you about the things going on over there, the camp you were at has now been taken down, moved to a different location, nearby a village, heâd tell you the antics he and the others would get up too- and complain about how the new doctor that was assigned to the camp was a huge asshole, and that he was glad he had self-healing abilities because then he wouldnât have to deal with his smug ass. His letters would make you smile, and blush, because heâd often tell you he thinks about you a lot. You two shared feelings more easily through writing than you would in person, because putting your feelings on paper than saying it outloud was easier. Although you still hadnât addressed the other feelings you had for each other, ironic, considering if anyone had read your letters- they would have thought you two were involved.Â
âI hate seeing you like this.â Rose says, turning in her spot to face you. âYouâre so depressed over a guy you havenât even slept with!âÂ
Your eyes widen and you gasped. âWhat- No- Iâm not! Iâm just worried about him.â you felt your cheeks start to burn.
âYes you are. Girl it ainât WORTH it.â She exclaims. âYou shouldnât be getting all worked up over him. You got to focus on your OWN life. I mean, youâre breaking your own heart, and you sit here all worried about him and if he writes letters and all, what if heâs come back, and yaâll do the nasty and heâs got a small -â
âOh my god, donât-â You interrupted her, holding you hand up to make her stop, â and Uh, excuse me, I have focused on my own life.â You rolled your eyes. âI got a house, a good job, you!â You argued. âIâm happy. I get out and socialize, do fun stuff-â
âYeah because I make you.â She crosses her arms. âYouâre so heads over heels with this guy, whoâs literally halfway across the world. You donât date and you turn down every man that does ask you out!âÂ
âJust because Iâm not interested in dating doesnât mean itâs because head over heels, for Logan. We are literally just friends, nothing romantic. And DEFINITELY, nothing sexual like youâre claiming- you vixen.â You rolled your eyes.Â
That was a lie. You were definitely hard for Logan. When you were in Vietnam, you were too busy to think about sex or any kind of personal pleasure. Then Logan showed up and your hormones flared to life for the first time in a long time and havenât stopped since - leaving you with the biggest, non-stop hard on you ever had- even if he isnât here. Now your home and itâs so much worse. The only temporary relief you get is late nights alone with you, your hand, and your imagination. Hell any moment youâd see him shirtless around camp, or even just think about him shirtless, had you soaked within seconds, with his hard pecs covered in coarse hair, his chiseled stomach, hard abs that flexed anytime he strained his muscles, which led to a happy trail below his pants, a prominent vein that travels up from below his pants- that you have spent more time than you care to admit, staring at in secret. Youâd watch how his biceps flex as he carried heavy boxes and guns, and youâd wish heâd put you in a headlock with them as he railed you from behind. It filled you with guilt to feel like that over someone you did consider a close friend, but sometimes your mind wonders, and suppose you are just a ladyâŚEmbarrassingly enough, your CO had caught you staring at him in a dreamlike state multiple times, and reminded you to keep your head straight and out of the clouds, but you did notice he began sending Logan to give you your supplies and papers more often.Â
âYou so are. I see how you blush when you look at that picture of you two.â She points accusingly. âYou need to get laid girl. And not just in your head.â she continues, leaning over to poke at your temple. You laughed, shaking your head. You were becoming embarrassed at this conversation. Yes, itâs true. You didnât have a sex life, or a dating life. It wasnât as if you didnât have the choice, you had plenty of opportunities, youâve been asked out, flirted with. Some of the men Rose was friends with were handsome, charming, and would usually be your type- but you just didnât want them. Maybe it was a little unhealthy, holding onto Logan, you guys were still just friends, no matter how often you may fantasize over him, and build up your relationship with him in your head. Your little bubble was about to pop, the more Rose spoke in your ear. âIâm serious!â She practically shrieks. âThis is the most freedom us women have ever had when it comes to sex. Take advantage of it!âÂ
You rolled your eyes. She was right. Things were starting to change in the world- slowly, and for the better you hoped. Society was beginning to be more open and accepting, signifying that maybe things will start to get better. There was peace talks with Vietnam, the US was considering officially pulling out of the war. Even mutants werenât getting the hard flack they usually were, albeit, theyâre still getting painted as violent criminals in most parts of the states, but the government had dropped the bill that would put restrictions on mutants, and force anyone who was a mutant to identify and register themselves as mutants. Much to your relief. It wasnât that you wanted to go around banging every guy you see - which is an activity that Rose pursued often, not that you cared, but you did just want that human connection with someone that just wasnât over paper.Â
 You werenât ready to let go of Logan though, even if youâre starting to wonder if maybe you were setting yourself up for heartbreak, and not because he may have a small⌠Well, yâknow, that was not important. He may be over there, writing letters to you with one hand, while he has another woman- who knows maybe another nurse- in his other hand. Howâd you know he really feels anything for you? He hasnât written a letter back in weeks. Part of you though knew better, Logan wasnât the type, youâd seen if even when he didnât know you were watching. While surely he was a man with desires, heâd never participate in the âlocker roomâ talk youâd overhear many of the soldiers do. Heâd sit there in silence, eating his rations, or sharping his knife, or staring into the fire, not joining in whenever they asked him if he had a type- or if he liked this particularly pair of tits on a playboy magazine that somehow got snuck into the camp. It was part of why you liked him, respectful, even if he was given all the room to beâŚwell, a man. Another part of you still worried though, Vietnam was already dangerous, and even if he could heal, neither you- nor he, knew his limits in that. He was smart and knew how to survive, you heard the stories the other privates would bring back when they came back from patrols. What if he gets discovered as a mutant? You got by lucky, he may not. What if heâs not writing because he got too badly hurt? What if he got discovered? What if he was captured by VC? You couldnât bear the idea of someone you cared about so deeply being hurt.
Maybe you were just overthinking everything. You do that often nowadays.Â
Rose could see it on your face, as she moved to sit next to you, resting her head on your shoulder. âWell, I suppose I canât blame you for holding out. He is pretty darn cute in that polaroid youâre so attached too.â She hums, making you both burst into giggles.Â
1973, Alberta, Canada
âSo, you were in Vietnam huh?âÂ
You stared blankly at the fellow that Rose has introduced you too. He was leaning against the doorframe, where you were standing just in case you needed a quick escape, but now that he was here, that wasnât going to be an option anymore. He raised a brow waiting for an answer, but you were lost staring at the mustache above his lip. It was becoming a common style nowadays, and you heard a few friends start referring it as a âpornstacheâ. You didnât want to know why. The thing looked like a giant fuzzy caterpillar on his top lip, and honestly, it was grossing you out. Â
âUm. Yeah.â You say plainly. âI was a army nurse.âÂ
âGroovy.â He smirks, a small nod of his head. âBet youâre glad the wars over then, right?â
âYeah. Glad.â You nodded. You hugged your cup to your body, looking around the party that Rose invited you to. Well, invited was a nice way of putting it. She practically dragged you here kicking and screaming.Â
President Nixon declared that the US and North Vietnam had signed an agreement, officially ending the war between the two. Troops have been pulled from the country, coming home to the States. It was great news, finally ending the dreaded conflict that shouldnât have started in the first place. Celebrations popped up everywhere for the last few month as the boys came home, but it left you feeling solemn, you were worried about the fallout. What was going to happen now? These boys coming home, having gone through hell on Earth. Youâve had two years to adjust and learn how to live and cope. Youâve had support. What about them?
Itâs been a year since you last heard from Logan. You had to resign yourself and accept that you may never hear from him again. You werenât given the privilege in learning what happened to Logan. After a month had passed with no letter, you gave into your worries and attempted to make calls to find out what happened, and no avail. You either didnât have clearance, or they didnât know. It wasnât like you couldnât find his family and reach out either, he had no family aside from his brother who was there with him. You were just starting to let go- and for some Rose thought that meant you were ready to mingle. You werenât sure yet but you definitely didnât want to mingle with this guy.Â
âWhyâd you go over there?â He asked. âBeautiful lady like you, you could have stayed home, shoot the fat, hang the breeze.âÂ
âIâŚReally rather not talk about it.â You say, trying to show how disinterested you were. Hoping he would get bored and go away, allowing you to slip out unnoticed. He just smiled though,Â
âYou seem tense.â He reaches out to touch your arm, making your eyes quickly dart down to where he was holding onto you, your lips pursing together as you tried your best not to rip your arm away and cause a scene.Â
âIâm fine.â You say, slowly pulling back from him.Â
âWe could always slip away from here. Get to know each other a little better?â He grinned, flexing his eyebrows sensually. âI could help you relax.â Now you just wanted to puke.Â
âNo thanks.â You say pulling yourself away from the door. Youâll just have to look for another way of escape. You entertained the party long enough. It was inside a huge house, spanning outside over a large decorated lawn- some friend of Rose who was apart of a rich family was throwing it to celebrate his cousin coming back from the war, which you could appreciate family appreciating each other like that. Your own loved ones had done something similar, accept with maybe less questionable substances hanging around all over the place. Honestly, it seemed more of an excuse for people to make out and get high, than celebrate said cousin. Although as you moved through the crowded rooms and halls of people talking, drinking, dancing to some kind of funk playing in the background, and smoking cigarettes and molly. You spotted said cousin, who was introduced to everyone that came in, sitting on the couch in the living room, with scantily clad women at either side of him, giggling and petting at his chest and thighs. Well, at least he was enjoying himself. You can get along with almost anybody, but this type of party just wasnât your beat, and not to mention you already had a long day at work, youâd like nothing more than to go home, get into something comfortable, curl up on the couch with some warm tea, and watch Clint Eastwood movies. You could appreciate Rose supporting you and pushing you out of your comfort zone, but you figured out a long time ago that comfort zone or not- this was not your idea of living. Youâll support her all the way, while you sat in pajames and slippers at home.
Searching for Rose in the crowd, you found her making out in the corner with some tall, dark, and handsome guy clad in leather. For a moment youâd pondered how rude it would be, if you interrupted her, at the same time though, sheâd be madder if you left without letting her know.Â
âRose- Rose!â You called her name over the loud music, before tapping her shoulder, and she tore away from the leather beast. Seriously, he was wearing a lot of leather. That couldnât be comfortable.Â
âHey! Whatâsup?â She turned her full attention to you, one hand still holding onto the mans hip, assuring him she wasnât leaving, but still wanted to make sure you felt heard.Â
âIâm going home-â You spoke over the music. âBut thank you so much for inviting me- Iâm just, tired, you know?âÂ
âWhat, you didnât like Jeffery?â She asked you, seemingly surprised, as if she hadnât learned what your type is by now. You laughed, shaking your head.Â
âNo, but thanks.â
âWell, are you sure? About going home?â She asks worriedly. You grabbed her hand and squeezed it.Â
âIâm just fine,â You say amused. âYouâll be alright?âÂ
âGirl,â She looked at the man, who was watching you both with amusement. She leaned in towards you, a huge smile spread across her face, her lipstick catching your eye, a bright pink, slightly smushed from her tongue dance with leather daddy behind her, as she lowered her voice, âIâll be more than alright, thatâs for damn sure.âÂ
You both laughed, as you playfully pushed her back towards him, you blew a kiss to her, and turned around with a small wave to Roseâs new playmate, as you managed to find the back door and leave, not wanting to risk going back to the front and running into Pornstache again.Â
The house was on the other side of the small town you were living in. You and Rose had a car, but the weather was warming up, and you both decided a walk over, which was your way of planning to be able to escape on your own if you needed to. Hopefully your solo walk would be a little nicer, since the walk to the party, Rose ended up complaining because she wore heels on the walk over.Â
You zipped up your bolero jacket, and stuff your hands into the pockets of your jeans as you made your way down the quiet streets, the music and smell of weed fading off with each step, leaving you with a clear head. You had to applaud yourself. If you were there a year ago, you would have likely gotten a panic attack, locked yourself in a closet or bathroom until things had quieted down, or Rose found you and got you home. This time though, you felt good- glad you got out- but you donât feel that tight squeezing in your chest, the way your blood would began to freeze, as your limbs began to feel weightless, your vision becoming unfocused. Nope. Not this time.
Now you get to enjoy the air, and the spring breeze.Â
Of course, your mind wandered to Logan again. It often did, you couldnât help it. You still missed him. Youâd find yourself rereading his letters, searching for any signs of why he may have never written back, but you could never see it. He seemed just as eager as you to write. Youâd stare longingly at the polaroid, which youâve retired to stay by your bedside table, since carrying it around so long as started to wear it out, fraying the edges. Youâd walk around the town heâd grew up in. He said it looked different then, compared to when he was a kid, which youâd imagine since it was over a hundred years ago,but you still imagined what itâd be like to see him there, tell you what things used to look like, how things used to be. Itâd been a long time since you seen him, and even though you had the picture, you could still close you eyes and picture every detail of his face and his voice.Â
How pathetic
Itâs been a year since you heard from him, and two years since you last seen him! You were so caught up your friendship with him, turning it into a fake romance in your head because you were lonely and didnât want to admit that. You felt embarrassed at this whole thing. Why were you so hung up on one man, when there was plenty of others out there, that you could easily build a connection with just as you did with Logan. Okay, maybe you felt like he saw you the way nobody else could, maybe he was the first guy to ever make your heart flutter with just a smile, maybe he was the first person ever to have taken the time to really gotten to know you, your faults, your quirks, the way you like your teaâŚ.
Ugh!
Maybe thatâs why it was so frustrating. Because you felt like you had found someone you could truly connected with, and somehow it had whittled away. You were grasping at what used to be a rope, hanging off of it in the darkness- attaching you to Logan, looking at you with those hazel eyes that still made your brain fuzzy as it did the first time you met him, even a year later of getting to know him while in Vietnam. The rope was now just a few pieces of string, and it was officially about to snap. Whatever happens, or happened to him, you could only hope that he was safe, and happy, wherever he was, as you closed your eyes, and felt it break. You had to move on. Right?
You opened your eyes and found yourself in front of your house. You were so lost in your thoughts, you donât even remember half of your walk anymore. You sighed, hands sticking in your jackets pocket to pull out your house keys as you approached your porch.Â
âStuck in your head again, huh bub?âÂ
A familiar voice ripped you from your thoughts, as you swung around, dropping your keys in shock at the figure that stood at the end of the sidewalk, your breath stolen at the sight,Â
And you smiled.
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#wolverine#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett x you#logan howlett fic#wolverine x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine x men#x men#origins logan howlett#xmen origins#logan howlett smut#imma tag this as smut even though there's only an inkling because I promise the smut is coming#no pun intended#vans daydreams
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