#thank you for tagging me once again!!!!!!!!!!! yay

[danidrabbles]

Cardinal

Pairing: Logan Howlett ("Worst" Wolverine) x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (for themes and smut).

Word count: 16.6k

Summary: At the edge of the world, someone from another keeps you from stepping off.

Tags/Warnings (Please, read the warnings!!): Post-Deadpool & Wolverine, female reader (female anatomy etc + 2 mentions of hair long enough to fall into your eyes), strangers-to-lovers, depression, suicidal ideations, suicide attempt and mentions thereof, addiction, drinking alcohol, drugs (mentioned not used), panic attacks, sobriety meetings, anxiety, recovery, co-dependency vibes, sprinkles of soulmateism, explicit smut (oral and unprotected PIV), happy ending (yay!!). If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Notes: Deadpool and Wolverine re-triggered my X-Men obsession and what started as a means to write some smut actually became this idea about two broken people who shouldn't even have met in the first place finding each other. There's a lot of me in this story, more than there's ever been I think. I'm sorry for this glimpse into my head, and I'm sorry if this isn't as Reader-insert as it should be, but... I'm not that sorry, you know. Huge thanks to @javier-pena , for not only reading this over and fixing so many embarrassing mistakes, but also for saying she'd read this even if it was 20k words and always believing in my abilities as a writer, even when I sometimes didn't.

If you want to read the smut as a standalone, you can! Just CTRL + F (or search in page) for 'Logan reaches for' and read away.

THE LOOKOUT

With closed eyes, you inhale the cool, December air, before looking down at your feet. Here, at the edge of the lookout, the grass has been trampled. You imagine friends taking bets on who dares get closest to the edge, lovers making memories, families taking pictures. It’s strangely soothing that maybe you’re not the first to stand here to do this. 

Far below your feet, the water laps at the rocks. The force of it depends on the weather and tonight it’s violent, with big splashes and crashing sounds. The wind tugs at your coat, pulling you towards the water as if to help you along, making you look up again as you hold your balance. In front of you, the line of the horizon is dark but visible – it would have been impossible to make out if the moon hadn’t been as bright as it is.

It’s like you’re looking at the edge of the world.

During the weeks that fall had made way for winter, you scoped the place out a couple times. The first time you stood at this cliff’s edge, the place it took you to mentally scared you so much that you got back into your car and broke down in tears. The next couple times, things became more and more serious, as your life crumbled around you, and your feelings numbed, and nothing seemed to matter anymore.

Something had crept in while you weren’t looking, settling somewhere behind your eyes and spreading out to make a home behind your ribs, slowly but surely changing you. And once you realized it, it was already too late. It had grown large, became jilted and jealous, like it wanted all of you. It pushed away everyone and everything you held dear, until it was just you and that… something.

Especially during the quiet of the night, the lookout became soothing, a strange sense of familiarity enveloping you each time you were here. It was addictive and pretty soon, it became a daily routine to visit. But lately it’s been losing its shine, your feelings here dulling and darkening too. You’re exhausted, fed up, tired of giving it more of you.

Today you want it to be your last time here. 

You’ve had countless hours to contemplate what it would be like, imagined – all but romanticised – how the cold water would paralyse your limbs if the impact wouldn't do the trick. You read somewhere that it’s apparently like falling asleep when the water finally fills your lungs. You’ll be gone, but the thing will be too.

The thought makes your eyes fill with tears, but not from fear. All you feel is relief, like it’s right, how it’s supposed to be. It makes you smile despite everything, and–

“Hey, stop!”

A voice behind you thunders through the silence and makes you shriek into the night, dirt toppling over the edge of the lookout below the shuffle of your foot. A string of curses follows, heavy footfalls behind you indicating that the intruder is approaching you.

“Fuck off!” you throw over your shoulder, your voice a roar with how it’s amplified by the wind. 

After, your throat closes up, fighting the angry tears over the fact that you can’t even fucking kill yourself in peace. Never have you seen anyone here at night, never. What you hate even more is how it breaks your momentum. The haze that was surrounding you is pierced, and your body’s baser instincts kick in. Adrenaline suddenly pumps through your veins, making your legs tremble, your heart hammer, your body scream for you to step back from where you’re standing. Your anger, however, has you nailed to the floor. 

You almost miss the much softer, “Hey,” as a man steps into your peripheral vision. You pretend like you don’t hear him, or see him – you simply pretend he isn’t there, focussing on getting back into your previous mindset. 

But then he takes his hands out of his pockets.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you warn, hating how your voice comes out trembling – weak.

“Easy.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

You stand there together for what feels like hours. You will yourself to not let it affect you, setting your jaw to keep your teeth from clattering on account of the cold, allow the wind to blow your hair into your eyes without brushing it away. Even when it begins to rain, you don’t move, don’t blink even once more than you need to. From the corner of your eye you watch the man shove his hands back in the pockets of the brown leather jacket he’s wearing, and you quietly celebrate that your surroundings are fazing him more than they are you.

“You know–” he begins.

“I’m not really looking for a conversation.”

“Me neither,” he immediately counters, suddenly impatient, “so I’ll get right to it: You planning on jumping? Because if you think the water’s gonna be nice to you, you’ve got that wrong. You’ll end up in there feeling everything, that fall isn’t gonna do shit.”

Having expected a gentle approach, his bluntness and his tone knock the wind out of you. You cock your jaw, the shame creeping up your body the first bit of warmth you’ve felt in a while. Your cold fingers ball to fists as you will yourself not to care. Yes, his words and the way he's shatteríng your expectations with them sting, but you don’t even know this guy–

“And there’s nothing fuckin’ peaceful about it, it’s just panic. Right before you go too far…” He raises a fist and holds it against the center of his chest, “...there’s this burning right here that’s hell.”

“And what makes you such an expert?” you finally spit out.

“Died like that a couple times,” he says without waiting a beat.

The casual statement of something so bizarre beats your resolve before you know it, your head turning in his direction. “‘A couple times’?”

“I, uh…” You watch him hesitate, the moonlight illuminating the tick of his jaw, the bob of his throat as he swallows, the way his chest falls as he sighs, “Let’s just say I can’t die.”

Before you can stop yourself, you snort at that. “That must fucking suck.”

He barks out a laugh, “Got that right.” It startles you when his head suddenly turns to you, when he looks you in the eye for the first time. “But trust me, being down there isn’t much better.”

There’s something in the way he looks at you that makes you waver. You can’t really place it, or decipher why it makes you want to open up to him. Maybe it’s because you’re freezing and it’s your body betraying you, tricking you into moving so you can generate some warmth, moving your lips to keep them from going blue. Or maybe it’s simply because he’s a stranger and it’s so much easier to be honest when there are no consequences.

“Things just feel so…,” you begin, voice shaky. Every possible way to end the sentence crosses your mind, seemingly all wrong, before you settle on what’s closest to how you feel, “endless.”

To your relief, he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t tell you to give it time that it will get better, or any of the other bullshit you’ve heard from all the other people that had been in your life and left a long time ago. You do find something else in the shift in his eyes, something you haven’t encountered before.

Understanding.

It might be worse. If anything, it’s overwhelming, making your eyes dart away from his as you sniff. 

The wind still tugs at you, the waves still hit the rocks, but your moment seems to have passed. It’s a sobering conclusion, a twisted version of wrong place, wrong time. Or maybe it was him who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, the outcome is the same.

You take a step back, and another, but it takes considerable effort; you hadn’t taken your numb legs into consideration. You stumble, falling back on the dewy, cold grass, not quick enough to catch yourself on your hands. With a groan, you move to sit upright.

“Shit. Hey, you still with me?” The stranger kneels next to you, fingers lifting your chin to look into your eyes. “Jesus, you’re fucking freezing.”

“No s-sh-hit,” you retort.

He sighs, offering you a hand so he can pull you up. “C’mon, let's get you warmed up.”

– – – – –

Logan.

That’s his name. 

It’s how he introduced himself, anyway, after he suggested you follow him. To his credit, he did offer to drive you, but you didn’t want to leave your car in the parking lot of the lookout. Logan waited 15 minutes for you while you put the blowers on the highest, warmest setting and waited for the feeling to return to your limbs. After, his brown truck led the way here – here being some hole in the wall, 24 hour diner. You could have not followed, but the drive was kind of mesmerizing; the night seemed darker than usual, and Logan’s tail lights served as a lighthouse.

Outside, the diner is all Christmas lights and flashing signs, but the interior is like something straight out of Twin Peaks; booths to the left, red barstools to the right, a girl that looks too pretty and too young to be here standing behind the counter. There were two other patrons you spotted along the way as Logan led you to one of the back booths. Once seated, Logan studied the pamphlets–or pretended to, more like, because as soon as the waitress came up he ordered two whiskeys and nothing else.

Between then and now, as you nursed your drink sip by careful sip, you hadn’t learned much more about him other than that he could knock back a glass of whiskey like he got paid to do so. And in truth, you like it this way; preferring silent company, the droning of the machinery behind the counter and the quiet hum of a song on the jukebox next to the entrance. The white noise helps to distract from the white noise in your head. Settling back into the leather cushions of the booth, you let some warmth seep back into your body. Opposite you, Logan does the same. 

Some moments after you finish your drink, one of the waitresses walks up to your booth to ask you about a refill, like she’s asked Logan twice now. You’re handing her the glass when Logan says, “She’s had enough.”

Your head whips from her to him. “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t say anything, and from the corner of your eye, you see the girl leave. With your glass. Logan’s is on his lips, his eyes observing you over the rim, looking at you like he– Dammit. You sigh deeply, a sense of anger filling you. You don’t need this, least of all from him. When you stand from the booth, those eyes follow you, making you voice your observations,

“Quit pitying me, Logan.”

“I’m not,” he says before taking another sip. “You still have to drive.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “And you don’t?”

Logan shrugs. “It’s different for me.”

Anger is still prevalent in your voice when you ask, “Well, let me guess, it’s another case of ‘I died like that a couple times’?” 

He hums.

“And how does that work?”

“Regenerative ability,” he sighs. Another sip before he elaborates, “X-Gene.” 

The admission makes you plop back down in your seat. Well, that explains things – he’s a mutant. You’re not familiar with that world, but you know enough to know it meant that. It isn’t like you couldn’t have deduced it before, but truthfully, you kind of thought he was bullshiting you as part of some tactic. Now, his actions and words make more sense: He really knows what it’s like to... That’s why he had that look on his face. Suddenly, you see him in a different light–

“Now who’s pitying who, hmm?” Logan asks, giving you a thin-lipped smile that doesn't reach his eyes as he sets his glass down on the table.

“I’m not, I’m just… processing. So this...” you lift his glass, swirl the contents around, “...doesn’t even affect you?”

“It does. For a few seconds.” He plucks the glass back from your hand, and throws the whiskey back with one gulp. His pupils dilate, pushing the hazel of his irises out until his eyes are almost black for a second, two… before going back to normal. “But if I chugged the bottle, I’d pass out.”

“Well, so would I,” you say with a chuckle. “So maybe we’re not that different after all.”

Just as the corner of his mouth lifts, your smile falls, because… it isn’t true; you’re very different. You’re pretty sure you don’t have what it takes to do what he did tonight. To care enough to do it. To sit with a stranger and hear them bitch and moan about being denied a drink. A feeling creeps up on you, sticky and uncomfortable, like you’ve overstayed your welcome—burdened him.

“I should head home,” you say, standing again.

Lightning fast, Logan’s hand shoots out to close around your wrist. “That really where you’re going?”

“Yes,” you reply. When you pull your hand back, he doesn’t let up. You fish your car key out of your pocket with your free hand, voice tighter when you say, “Let me go.”

“Just promise me something,” he says, eyes as dark as they’d been earlier, yet his drink has gone untouched since. “Don’t go back there again.”

“Not making promises I can’t keep,” you say, giving him a wry smile. “To strangers, but least of all to myself.”

He sighs, and lets you pull yourself from his hold.

THE CRAVING

New Years comes and goes, and you quickly discover that it was foolish superstition to think that it might change how you feel.

You find yourself in some club, a drink in each hand. You hate to admit it, but Logan’s words scared you out of your original idea and the only time you can bear to think of how to move on from it is when alcohol soothes the embarrassing grief of your shattered, macabre fantasy. It’s not a good way to deal with things, but it works.

There’s a part of you that welcomes feeling anything at all, but that… something inside you is busy trying to squash it. 

It’s getting somewhere, because you have no idea how much you’ve already had to drink, but you’re buzzing pleasantly. Adding to it, you knock both drinks back, slamming the glasses on the bar before spinning around and facing the crowd of dancing bodies. The music sucks, the dance floor is cramped, you’re tired… The truth is that you’re too old for this, but it’s easy to escape here, surrounded by strangers. You clumsily drag the back of your hand over your wet mouth, push your sweaty hair from your eyes, and join them.

The past couple weeks, you found yourself craving something. Contact. And here is where you can get your fill; a hand on your waist, lips on your ear, the music too loud and yourself too drunk to even comprehend what’s being said, but never more. You want them to get close, but never too close.

After some time – could be an hour, could be 10 minutes – you make your way to the bathroom. It’s quieter here, the dulled thump of the music making the time you spend there feel slow and syrupy. 

When you exit the stall, you bump into someone.

It’s a man. The dark hood over his head obscures his eyes, but you can’t help but think he’s looking right at you when a bright, almost unnatural grin appears on his face. It draws you in like a magnet, more so when he says, “Need something to take the edge off?” 

Curiously, you watch as he opens his palm, long fingers unfurling slowly until they reveal a small plastic bag in his hand. 

“First time’s on the house.”

You have no idea what it is exactly, but your eyes widen. This is new territory for you, and all the possibilities it opens up are suddenly invading your mind. As if on auto-pilot, you reach for the place where you keep your money, the sound of the door opening completely lost on you.

A hand closes around your bicep, pulling you aside with a quick yank of an arm.

“She isn’t interested, pal.” 

It’s another man, who effortlessly tucks you half behind him. Before you can protest beyond an indignant huff, there’s a sound, like a sword being unsheathed, and you catch a flash of red, and of knives. Frowning, you try to get a better look, but your view is obscured by the man’s shoulder. The hooded man seems undeterred, regarding the weapons with the same sickening grin, before leaving the bathroom, muttering something that you don’t understand on the way out. The sword sound returns, the man twists around, and–

“Logan?” you slur in disbelief. 

Logan doesn’t reply, instead takes hold of your arm again, making you follow him out of the bathroom. There he stops the two of you to murmur something to a woman wearing the same clothes as him, before tugging you along again. You’re stumbling after him on account of his pace and the iron grip he has on you as he leads you to the back door. He pushes it open with enough force to make the hinges creak, a gust of wind blowing in your face. It’s a contrast to go from the crowded, sweaty club to the silent, cold back-alley where tall brick walls and employee cars cage you in. You shake your arm and Logan’s grip loosens – another and he lets you go.

“How did you even find–” You cut yourself off, eyes widening, “Oh, my god, are you following me?”

Logan scoffs, narrowing his eyes. “Oh, please, do you think I have time to follow you around all day?”

“You’re here, aren’t you? You and your fucking…,” you gesture wildly into the air at him, “savior complex.”

“I work here,” he growls. When you give him a look, he adds, “It’s temporary. ‘Sides, me and my savior complex are the reason that creep isn’t selling god knows what to you in that bathroom right now!” His voice is a roar, echoing off the walls around you.

“Maybe I wanted that creep to sell god knows what to me in that bathroom,” you say, doing a poor impression of his voice, before turning and walking away from him.

Logan sighs. “Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving.”

“And then what, huh?”

“I don’t fucking know, Logan,” you say, twisting around to face him again, arms spread out by your side. “Figure out a new way out of this.”

“Yeah? Third time’s the charm?”

“Why do you even care, huh? You don’t even know me,” you say. Almost immediately, you let out a bitter laugh as your own words hit your ears, a sad realization dawning on you. “But I guess that makes two of us.”

It’s not like you expected him to, but he doesn’t answer.

“You know I used to like myself? I used to smile, I used to have friends, I used to be more sober than drunk. But this feeling, it takes… everything.” You raise a fist, hold it to the center of your chest. “It takes everything I love, pushes away everyone I love, including myself. It eats me up, and wants more and more, until I’m something I’m not and until I’m so far away from that version of myself, my old self, that it feels easier to just fucking–” you pause with a wet gasp for air.

“Destroy yourself,” Logan finishes for you.

Your chest heaves, an unshed tear clings to your lash line. “Exactly.”

He takes a step closer to you. “Let me take you home,” he says, voice gentle. 

You should hate the implications of that gentleness, but you don’t. In your drunk state of mind, it’s easier to admit it’s nice that someone understands, that someone’s there to stop you from going too far… 

Tomorrow, when some of your pragmatism returns, you’ll deny this embarrassing thought ever occurred; if relying on other people worked, it would have worked a long time ago, and you wouldn’t be standing here with him. If you’re lucky, you might even forget this entirely, and wake up with a hangover that you’ll enjoy a little too much because it feels like a punishment–

“What about your job?” you ask with a sniff.

Logan’s palm finds the space between your shoulder blades with a gentle push, the warmth of it seeping in through your clothes, and he leads you to his truck. “They’ll manage without me.”

– – – – –

When you wake, your world is tilted sideways, a blanket is pulled up to your chin and there's a pillow under your head. They’re not your own; the blanket is itchy and the pillow’s too small. When you try to move your legs, they stick uncomfortably to the material below them, and you realize you’re on a leather couch. You squint at the light that comes in from a window across from you–

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

The voice startles you, eyes shifting to focus on the source: A man lying on his front on the floor, chin in his hands as he kicks his feet back and forth in the air. 

“Wish I could say it’s a pleasure, but it hasn’t been very pleasurable. You’ve been barfing up the place since the moment you stepped inside. Kept poor Al up all night. Her ears are sensitive,” he adds with a whisper. “But don’t worry, she left about an hour ago.”

“Who are you?” you slur, blinking against the light.

“Logan.” He sighs when you frown. “I know, not how you remember. This is what I look like during the day; blessed with incredible good looks at night and, well,” he gestures at his face that’s covered in scars, "this, during the day. Bit of a reverse Princess Fiona situation–”

“Cut it out, Wade,” comes the sharp protest from next to you. With considerable effort, you turn your head and see the actual Logan, slumped back in a recliner next to the couch, rubbing some sleep out of his eyes while motioning for the other man to go.

“I’ll let you two talk.” Wade winks.

Logan stands when Wade does, walking from your field of view. Your head is scrambling to catch up, trying to piece together what happened last night, but only coming up with bits and pieces.

“How are you feeling?” Logan asks as he makes his way back to you, handing you a glass of water.

You flinch when the front door closes behind Wade with a bang, before taking the glass from Logan and taking a few thankful sips. “Like shit.”

“Yeah,” is all he says as he sits back down.

“What–”

“You fell asleep in the car. Didn’t know where to take you, figured the couch was the safest place.”

“Oh…,” you say, voice small. 

You try not to think about being so wasted that you had to be carried out of Logan’s car, or about what Wade said earlier about the things that happened as soon as you stepped inside the apartment. During your silence, Logan’s fingers fiddle with the armrest, before his hand balls into a fist, and it unlocks something in your hazy memory.

“I have the weirdest memory of you having… a sword?”

You watch as Logan’s lips purse in amusement. His tongue rolls around in his mouth, seemingly contemplating something, before saying, “You probably saw these.” He holds up his fist, flexing his forearm before three blades shoot from between his knuckles like claws, accompanied by a shing!

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you startle, spilling some water on your blanket. Your head spins with your hangover and the bizarity of the situation. If it didn’t sound so much like how it did in your memory, you might think you were still drunk. 

There’s so many things you want to ask, your intrigue almost winning out over your hangover until the sharp start of a headache gives you pause. Instead, you take another sip of water before rubbing your temple.

“It’s a story for another time,” Logan says, like he can read your mind, and you want to ask him that, too. His claws retreat, the cuts they leave between his knuckles immediately smoothing over until they’re gone. “I gotta go check if I still have a job.”

The words make you feel warm all over, the memory of your back-alley conversation coming back in full force. The thought of the things you admitted to him and that you put him in the position that he had to risk his job for you make you feel even warmer, your gaze no doubt laced with embarrassment and worry when you look at him.

“‘S not your fault,” Logan assures, standing and fishing his car key from the pocket of his jeans. “You don’t have to rush but um, make sure you close the door behind you on the way out. Gets jammed sometimes.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, watching as he makes his way to the front door. 

He takes a final glance at you over his shoulder, then leaves, accompanied by a bang.

THE PUZZLE

It takes you a little over a week to muster up the courage to go back. Admittedly, your courage is aided by another, foreign feeling. You don’t have a name for it yet, or maybe you’re afraid to call it what it is, but somewhere along the week, you became consumed with the thought that feeling like you did wasn’t all there was. That there is something beyond this. 

Perhaps foreign wasn’t the right way to describe it, because it is something you’ve felt before – it’s just been long dormant. The last time, it lasted about a month before it all came crashing down, and you swore you wouldn’t fall for it again, but you can’t help it. The feeling’s too sweet, and the idea that there’s still some baser instinct willing you to keep fighting for yourself makes you feel like the sun is shining on you. 

So yeah, maybe you’re just having one of your good weeks, where the thing sleeps – quiet while its presence still simmers. But you figured now’s your chance to take advantage of its unguarded moment.

Sneaking into the building is surprisingly easy. It helps that it isn’t anything fancy. You wanted to forego the humiliation of ringing the bell and him not letting you in, but standing in front of the door now, panting after climbing three flights of stairs, you don’t know if this is much better. 

Just when you’re about to knock, the door swings open. In the opening, Logan has one arm in his jacket, head twisted to watch the other that’s caught halfway in the sleeve. It takes him almost bumping into you to realize your presence. “Shit, sorry.” He steadies himself with a hand on your arm, the touch leaving you as fast as it appeared.

“Hi,” you breathe, taking a step back to give him a little more space.

He nods in greeting. “Brings you here?”

It takes you a moment, caught off guard by him skipping over pleasantries and cutting right to the chase, despite your best intentions; it’s not that he’s ever been any different in his interactions with you.

“I came by because I, um, owe you an apology, for my behavior at your workplace and for, you know…,” you trail off, gesturing at the door.

“Barfing up the place!” comes a shout from inside the apartment. 

Logan’s eyes close with a sigh, before he steps into the hallway with you and closes the door with a bang. 

“That,” you finish sheepishly. “I’m really sorry.”

He nods in acknowledgement.

“I also wanted to ask, um, if you want to come with me to get a coffee. To make it up to you.”

Logan just looks at you, the leather of his jacket creaking as he crosses his thick arms in front of his chest. He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly. You hate how he somehow can see right through you, how he makes you elaborate, and honest.

“I want to quit drinking,” you say, fiddling with the sleeve of your coat. “It doesn’t make me better, and when I don’t do it I finally feel a little… normal. Maybe coffee’s technically just as bad, but it’s the only thing that’s currently acting like… like a reverse gateway drink? And I feel like you’re the only person I know that might get that feeling of–”

“I do,” Logan cuts in, voice softer than before – assuring. His arms drop from where they’re crossed and he starts making his way to the stairs. “Let’s go.”

– – – – –

You don’t know this coffee place, and from the way he looks around and shifts around in a chair that might be a bit too small for him, neither does Logan. Main reason you picked it is because the booths remind you a little too much of a bar – and you like the tall windows. The coffee’s pretty decent.

“Did they fire you?” you ask, picking at a loose corner of one of the laminated menus before setting it back in its holder.

“Boss commended me for helping a customer, but not so much for leaving before my shift ended,” Logan replies. “Got off with a warning.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Said that already, and I accepted,” he says. When he takes a sip of the coffee, he winces. “No need to worry about it anymore, okay? I would do it again.”

You nod, folding your hands around the warm cup in front of you.

“But, um, Wade hasn’t shut up about… the incident.” There’s a different tone to his voice, like he’s trying to lighten the mood. “His words.”

“You know, I kind of get the feeling that Wade doesn’t shut up about a lot of things.” It comes out a little meaner than you intend, but it makes Logan laugh and finally slump back in his chair a little. 

“You’re a quick study.”

Offering him a short smile in return, you continue with the other real reason you came to see him, before you chicken out. “I also stopped by because I wanted to, uh… because I realized I never really… I never… I never thanked you, for um… And–”

With a shake of his head, Logan sits upright. “Y’don’t–”

To your horror, your eyes brim with tears, “Logan, I’m supposed to be dead–”

“So am I,” he counters. He lets the words hang between the two of you for a moment, until you look at him, before he continues, “I’ve been where you are. Past it, even.”

You don’t know what to say to that, if the lump in your throat will even permit you to speak, but it’s impossible to look away from him. Logan’s gaze is piercing, frown ever present, but it’s not from anger. Instead, it’s like he’s searching for something, the right thing, to say. The silence doesn’t bother you; if anything, it makes his words seem more genuine when he does speak,

“I had someone who was annoying enough to not give up on me when I could really use it. If getting a coffee with you that’s, frankly…,” he makes a face as he pauses, “a horrible excuse for a coffee, helps… I can do that. I want to do that.”

The corner of your mouth lifts as you blink away your tears. “Was it Wade?”

Logan lets out a chuckle, and it’s honest – fond. “Yeah.”

“Figured,” you say. “How did you meet him?”

Across from you, Logan stills. You swallow thickly, adjusting yourself in your chair. It’s an innocent question, but maybe it isn’t something he’d like to revisit right now. Logan’s mug squeaks when he grips it tighter, and he looks at you with something like defeat– 

It makes you deflate. This must be what you looked like the night you met…

There’s no way to have prepared for what he tells you next: That he came from another timeline about three months ago, that he and Wade saved this one from being destroyed and almost got killed in the process, that he has nothing to go back to after the death of his team, so he stayed here. 

There’s hesitation in it, like he isn’t telling you the whole story, though you don’t comment on it. He doesn’t owe you anything and you’re too busy putting all the pieces in the Logan-shaped puzzle in your mind together; his words and actions towards you are starting to make more and more sense.

“It’s a very brave thing the two of you did,” you say when he’s finished.

“Hmm, it was all Wade,” Logan muses. “He did it all for the people he cares about.”

“I’m sure you would have done the same if you were in his place.”

At that, he lets out a dry laugh with absolutely no joy behind it. “Do me a favor, don’t put me on a pedestal.”

You frown, but before you can comment, he stands. A knot forms in your stomach, worried you’ve offended him, but he clears up the uncertainty immediately.

“I gotta go but um, Wade’s friends–,” he stops himself, correcting, “our friends are coming over to watch a movie, next week, 7:30. I have no idea what crap they’re going to be watching but… it’s nice. It’ll be nice to be around good people.” Logan doesn’t wait for your answer, simply takes his wallet from his pocket and leaves enough money to cover the bill.

“Wait, no, I invited you,” you protest. “I should–”

“You can pay next time.” 

When you nod, he says his goodbyes with a jerk of his head and makes his way to the door.

– – – – –

You see Logan two more times for coffee that week. He never lets you pay.

THE PANTRY

“–but it’s the best one!” Wade protests, DVD in hand.

“They fly a car into space, Wade,” Laura sighs.

“Launched off a jet,” he corrects. Like it helps.

You cover your mouth with the back of your hand, hiding the smile that appears at everyone’s babbling. Unbeknownst to you, you had found yourself invited to a double feature night, with Wade as the self proclaimed DVDJ. The credits had barely started rolling on A Good Day To Die Hard, or Wade had another DVD at the ready. It was met with the same amount of enthusiasm as when he presented the first.

It hadn’t been easy to make yourself go to this tonight. On your way, you’d thought of turning around at almost every step. Of course, that was all before you knew it would be this fun, and that you’d be relieved you hadn’t canceled last minute. Even meeting everyone hadn’t been as bad as you feared. 

There’s Peter, Wade’s friend. Ellie, another one of Wade’s friends. Yukio, Ellie’s girlfriend. Laura, Logan’s daughter. Mary Puppins, Wade’s small, disgusting but adorable dog, who had greeted you with equal amounts saliva and enthusiasm, before falling asleep next to the TV, completely unbothered by the commotion. Unlike Althea, Logan and Wade’s blind roommate, who had taken one listen to the gaggle of voices and left. The elusive Vanessa, Wade’s ex-but-we-might-get-back-together you heard about a couple times, wasn’t there.

Logan had been right, it was nice to be surrounded by good people. Especially good people who were… unconventional. It made joining them less complicated, less performative, and as the evening progressed it made you a participant instead of a silent observer. Wade even called you, “good for the group dynamic,” and it made you beam with pride.

“Don’t they have like, rockets attached to the car?” Ellie questions, to which Yukio’s eyebrows knit together.

“Exactly!” Wade exclaims, mistaking her confusion for enthusiasm. “Citizen Kane wishes.”

There’s more grumbling from everyone when Wade pops the DVD into the player, and he grumbles something back about how Logan would back him up if he wasn’t in the bathroom because he, quote unquote, goes way back with some of these dudes.

You’re pretty sure he’s the only one who knows what he’s even talking about.

An empty bowl of popcorn rests in your lap, and as you put it on the table, you notice how sticky and greasy your fingers and palms are. When the opening credits begin to roll, you get up to wash your hands, assuring Wade he doesn’t need to pause the movie before you go.

The apartment’s small, so it isn’t far to the kitchen, but it’s nice to stretch your legs. You can still hear the sounds from movie night; tell-tale action movie music, comments of disbelief and Wade shutting them down. They’re more faint, though, more so when you turn the tap on and wash your hands.

Right as you’re finished, you hear a dull thud. You turn the water off, head tilted and at attention while you dry your hands. There’s another sound, like a muffled groan. It’s coming from the pantry, you realize, noting that the door is slightly ajar. There’s a shing! sound followed by a distressed grunt, and before you know it you’re walking over, wrapping your fingers around the door to pull it open–

You’re not sure what it was you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. Logan’s sitting on the floor, uncharacteristically small, curled up against one of the walls. His chest is heaving, shoulders all but going up to his ears with how he’s trying to draw in breaths. Next to him, his fist is balled against the hardwood, claws buried in the floor.

Fuck.

Dropping to your knees, you wedge yourself between his. “It’s okay, you’re having a panic attack,” you explain, your hands landing on his shoulders with a light shake. “You need to breathe. I’ll help you, just look at me.”

Logan’s head stays tipped down, a deep, rattling breath sailing from his mouth as he curls further in on himself.

“Hey!” you say sharply, cupping his jaw with two hands and tilting his face up, “Look at me.” 

Logan’s eyes are wet when they meet yours, moving frantically as they search your face, tears spilling over when he blinks. Something changes in his gaze, like he finally sees it’s you, and his bottom lip begins to tremble. His hand lifts from where it’s buried in the floor, clutching onto your wrist like a lifeline.

“Breathe,” you instruct, trying not to flinch at the sharp claws in front of you. He doesn’t catch on immediately, so you overdo the purse of your lips when you blow out a breath before exaggerating an inhale through your nose, showing him what to do. It starts off shaky, a fresh set of tears falling from Logan’s eyes as he does as you instruct, but after a couple of times you find a rhythm together. The silver between his knuckles slowly disappears. “There you go, good job. Keep going.”

You sit like that, until the wild shift of his eyes stops, his pulse steadies beneath your fingertips, and eventually his eyes close with a deep exhale. His grip on you loosens and you take it as your cue to let go of him, slumping back against the wall opposite him with a sigh of relief. The both of you catch your breath, sitting together in silence until Logan breaks it.

“Came outta nowhere… suddenly I was back there… letting them down.”

“It caught you off guard, it happens–”

“I let them get killed,” he says, voice raw. “They were like– They were my family, they trusted me to be there for them and I… I was too caught up in my own bullshit. I should have been with them, I should be dead with them.”

Logan’s tears still come, but the words almost sound reverent; as if saying them out loud just to punish himself with his own shortcomings is a balm. He’s talking about his team from there, you realize, and something clicks. All this time, you thought this was about him being unable to die due to his mutation, but it’s more than that. It’s shame, remorse, grief, survivor’s guilt, all wrapped into one.

It’s the final piece of your mind puzzle that makes his picture appear.

“How– How can I ever atone for that?” he asks. “How can I ever–”

“Logan, you can't change your past,” you interrupt carefully. “You made your choices and they made theirs, and you honored them by– by…stepping up to the task, by doing what you did with Wade.”

“What if it wasn’t enough?”

“What if it was?” you counter. Your hand finds his knee with a squeeze, before adding, “You did what they would have done. And now you… you need to allow yourself to honor their memory without feeling like you have to destroy yourself to do it. You deserve that.”

Logan blinks at you, eyes still glossy. He looks devastated yet calmer than before, like the emotion is still there, but displaced. For a good while, you sit with him like that while his sniffles lessen and his breathing returns to normal… until there’s a loud explosion coming from the living room. It’s followed by cheers and hollers, and you’re both suddenly reminded of where you are. 

“C’mon,” you say, patting Logan’s knee before using it as leverage to haul yourself up with a groan. You give him room by holding the door open for him. “Better get back before we miss the good stuff.”

Still on the floor, Logan exhales heavily. “Think this was the good stuff.”

– – – – –

Three weeks later, on your way to your third movie night, you catch Wade and Vanessa making out in the building hallway. 

It stops you dead in your tracks and makes for an awkward meeting with Wade’s mystery woman, who is beautiful but very direct when she asks you what the fuck you’re staring at. Wade certainly has a type when it comes to the company he keeps… He quickly shushes the situation, introducing the two of you, and it immediately makes Vanessa’s expression twist into recognition. 

“Nice to meet you,” she says, followed by an apologetic smile. 

You respond in kind. 

When Wade tugs at her jacket impatiently, they brush past you and make their way to the exit. “See you around!” she throws over her shoulder.

A grin forms on your lips, realizing what you just witnessed, and you race up the stairs. With Wade gone, you’re not sure if there will be a movie, but at least you have gossip to share with your friends.

THE MEETING

April flies by, rolls into May, and thing’s are… okay.

With some help, you find a therapist. It’s good, she’s good, but it’s difficult to be confronted with things that are painful, week after week, and to keep reminding yourself it’s all part of the process you’re going through.

Last week, after a particularly difficult session, you’d left her office being auto-piloted by dark feelings, like they knew exactly when to strike. You had turned corners and crossed streets, wandering as you stewed on everything you’d discussed –  like your mind was playing a constant loop of your most painful moments. It was a small miracle you had heard your phone, and that you had the presence of mind to thumb the green button.

You’d answered without saying a word.

“Got any plans?” Logan had asked on the other side of the line.

“No,” you’d replied, coming back to yourself a little bit at the sound of his voice.

“Al’s making her meatballs – she and Wade can’t agree on if they’re famous or infamous. Thought you might like to come. If it tastes like shit, we’ll order in.”

You’d hummed, managing to ask, “What time?”

It had stayed quiet on the other end, and that’s how you’d known he was onto you, could picture the pinch of his brows, his lips forming a thin line. For the first time, you welcomed it—wanted so badly to reach through the phone, shake his shoulders, ask for his help and accept it, like he had done with you weeks ago. 

“Sounds to me like now might be good.”

“Yeah,” you had agreed, the constricting tightness in your chest easing up. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon.” You’d released a shuddering breath, ear still pressed to the phone as you took in your surroundings before you auto-piloted yourself to a different destination. 

“Logan?”

“Still here.”

“Thank you for calling.”

“‘course. Get here soon, I’ll stay on the phone.”

The afternoon had ended with Logan and yourself allowing Althea to boss you around in the small apartment’s kitchen, rolling meatballs, sharing stories — Althea’s recollection of something that happened to her in her 20s that involved her stealing a police horse while wearing nothing but a thong, made you cry from laughing.

The meatballs were the best you ever had, though you couldn’t be sure if they actually were, or if it was just the taste of the moment that was better than anything had been that day. 

Sometime after dinner, Logan had nudged your shoulder to show you a little plastic chip. He flashed it at you long enough that you could read the words one month, before he pocketed it again. Then he suggested you come with him next week. 

“I thought it was bullshit too, but it helps,” he’d explained. “Figured I couldn’t continue to drink whatever that stuff is you call coffee to… avoid my problems.”

You contemplated his suggestion. Things were going well for you in that regard, but your therapist had also recommended you go to one of these things, even if it was just for the community aspect of it. It just made it so… official. Your problems, but most of all, your recovery. You weren’t good at keeping promises to yourself, and this felt like a big commitment. Not to mention the speeches and other people’s problems...

But as Logan told you more about it, the location, how it had been for him, you sensed something else between the lines: He wasn’t just asking for you, he was also asking for himself. Maybe… this was his way of telling you he needed some support. 

That’s how you find yourself inside a high school gymnasium a week later. It’s as gloomy as you expected. Slick floors, gray fold-out chairs set in neat rows, buzzing lights in a high ceiling, and a slightly raised podium with a whiteboard that reads a welcome message in capital letters. 

Unsure of what to do, you follow Logan as he weaves through the crowd to find a seat. As you do, it strikes you that there’s a pretty even distribution of people, with many genders, ages and lifestyles represented. Eventually you take a seat; not quite in the back, but definitely not in the front. 

The whole thing goes by in a blur, but where you expected to be overwhelmed, you feel… connected. Here you are, surrounded by people with different backgrounds, different lives, but all their stories have something you can relate to. Where you thought addiction was the common denominator, it’s actually the desire to turn your lives around that unites you the most.

“Before we end the night I want to circle back to last week, when we spoke about goals, or things we want to work towards,” says the woman leading the meeting – you’re ashamed to admit you already forgot her name. “Does anyone want to share something about that?”

It takes a lot to hide your surprise when Logan raises his hand. 

“Logan! Come on up!” She sounds as surprised as you feel, beckoning him to her.

The plastic chair he sits on creaks when he stands and his boots squeak against the shiny floor as he does as she asks. He looks so out of place on a podium; both larger than life behind the lectern and lost to the space of the stage. He clears his throat as he retrieves a paper from his pocket and unfolds it while his eyes scan the room until they land on yours. You give him a little nod of encouragement, and it kicks him into gear.

“Not good at this stuff, so I’m going to keep it brief,” he starts. 

It earns him a chuckle or two from the other attendees, and you can tell he doesn’t expect it when he looks up from his paper. Your hands clasp together with nerves as you watch him divide his weight from one leg to another, before focussing his gaze back down.

“My life has changed a lot over the past few months. For the first time in a long time, it’s not all bad. Coming here has been good. I’m starting to feel more like I did before–” 

He stops his monotonous droning with a frustrated sigh, stuffing the piece of paper in his pocket and sounding considerably more lively after. 

“I have people I care about again, and um, it scares me. ‘Cause I don’t want to let them down, and every day I feel like I will because of all of my… past shit.” He pauses and swallows hard before he continues, “They show me so much kindness and understanding, that… that even though it’s fucking hard, I want to be able to see myself the way they see me. And allow them to care about me without feeling like I… have to earn it all the time, without destroying myself to do it.” 

You exhale for what feels like the first time in an eternity.

“So, that’s what I’m currently working on.” Logan sighs. “That’s it. Thank you.”

A small applause follows, and you quickly unclasp your hands to join in.

Your palms hurt after.

– – – – –

“It was really nice, what you said in there,” you say, fingers caressing a little plastic chip of your own that you keep safe in your coat pocket. You haven’t felt proud of yourself in a while, but tonight you do.

The evening is nice, the setting sun bathing the city in hues of orange and pink. Your pace is slow and comfortable, your arm occasionally brushing Logan’s when you make room for all the other pedestrians. You didn’t plan on him walking you home, but he insisted and you enjoy the company – it makes you a little sad when you turn onto your street.

Logan scoffs in reply. 

“I’m being serious,” you say, knocking your elbow against his arm on purpose now. “It was nice for people to hear a guy like you say those things. I’m proud of you.”

You swear he blushes. “A guy like me, huh?” he asks, almost amused.

It’s your turn to scoff. “You know what I mean.” 

“A mutant?” He looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“No,” you say, because it’s not what you meant, but the hint of seriousness in his voice and the fact he’s not entirely wrong make you track back. “Well, maybe that, too, but I meant someone who looks like you, allowing themselves to be vulnerable. Sets a nice example.”

Logan doesn’t shoot your comments down like you expect. Instead, he seems to consider your words, maybe he even silently accepts the compliment. “Think you have some things to say that could set a nice example, too.”

“Maybe next time.”

During the comfortable silence that follows, you’re reminded of something you’ve been considering for weeks now. You hadn’t paid much attention to it since that night, but as you worked through the feelings that got you to that point, the question kept coming back.

“I’ve been wondering something,” you begin. “The night we met... What were you doing at the lookout?”

Logan glances at you, contemplating the question. “When I had just, um, gotten here, it wasn’t always easy to adjust, you know? So I went to all these places that I knew from back there, to ground myself, to see that things may be different, but that they’re not that different.”

“You went there on your side?”

He hums.

“By yourself?”

He hums again.

“Did you…” You hesitate to finish your sentence, both because you’re not sure if you have any right to ask and because you’ve reached your building. You stop walking, and Logan follows your lead. 

“No, no, no, I… I can’t explain it, it’s just one of those places I was always drawn to,” Logan says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans with a shrug. His brows furrow suddenly, his mind seemingly lost in something before his eyes flick back to yours. “Think it took me coming over here to find reason in it.”

It’s a thought that’s equal parts sad and lovely. 

The silence that follows hangs between you, thick with something you can’t place, but Logan doesn’t look away from you, eyes scanning your face before they land back on yours. You can’t help thinking that maybe this is how he does it, and the question comes out before you can help it,

“Is mind reading part of the X-Gene thing?”

His eyes widen – amusement or surprise, you can’t say. “It can be.” 

“Can you do it?”

“No,” he says. “And it’s for the best, fucking hurts when you can’t control it.” Then the start of a smile begins to form on his lips. “‘sides, I don’t know if I would have a lot of… consideration for people’s boundaries.”

It makes you chuckle. “Right. Not to mention some minds are probably a lot – imagine reading Wade’s mind.”

“Hurts to even imagine,” Logan says, gesturing for you to be quiet as he winces, but a smile breaks through anyway. When your shared laughter dies down, he jerks his chin at the building behind you, “This your place?”

“Wha–?” Going home long forgotten in the moment, you glance over your shoulder. “Oh! Yes.”

“All right,” he nods. “See you next week?”

“Definitely,” you reply.

“Oh,” Logan says right before you turn around. “Bring coffee? You owe me.”

You make a face at him. “You don’t have to– I’ll get you something else, I know you don’t like it.”

“I like it when I drink it with you.”

It’s incredibly hard to hide your grin. “Okay, I’ll bring coffee. See you next week, Logan.”

“See you.” 

He lingers, watching you climb the steps, waiting until the door opens after you turn your key in the lock. It’s not until you close the door, when you can only make out his silhouette through the patterned glass window in it, that he walks off.

THE SUMMER

Walking back from a very successful job interview, you find yourself on your way to your friends with a big, plastic bottle of coke under your arm. It’s a warm feeling to know that you’ll soon have a job that suits you and that you have people to celebrate with; you look forward to seeing them and sharing this with them.

You’re invited inside with open arms, tight hugs, exclaimed praise and congratulations, and it makes you giddy, a feeling so foreign that you wish you could bottle it up right this instant. With a grin, you shake the Coca Cola bottle, before twisting the cap off. You let out an excited shout as you watch the foam shoot out from the top, bubbles and dark liquid pulsing down the neck of the bottle as cheers surround you.

It’s not champagne, but Althea grumbles about the soda ruining her floors, Wade gets mismatched glasses from the cupboard, and Logan clinks his glass to yours and tells you he’s proud of you.

It’s way better than champagne.

– – – – –

You’re in serious, desperate need of a new place… 

The August heat is relentless, and the entire building’s AC isn’t working. It’s with considerable effort that you manage to make your way to your friends’ place, the promise of a constant, cold stream of wind the only thing that keeps you going. But when the front door opens, it isn’t with the welcoming, cool waft of air you were hoping for. Instead, there’s no temperature change, only Wade in his underwear.

“No.” It’s a little embarrassing how you literally pout, but these are desperate times. “Here, too?”

“If it wasn’t this fucking hot I’d be offended by that greeting.” He sighs. “Come in.”

Slightly defeated, you shuffle past the threshold, while Wade lingers. Mary Puppins trots by, an ice-pack wrapped in a towel secured on her back, and you catch a glimpse of Logan exiting the bedroom. He’s in black shorts and a ribbed, sleeveless shirt, and with a desperate groan, he lets himself fall back into the recliner in the living room. 

“Tried everything, there’s no fixing that fucking thing.”

Wade makes a face, “Listen, I know what you’re thinking: Wade’s in his underwear, Logan’s emerging from the bedroom… But we didn’t fuck, it’s not that kind of st–”

“Who are you talking to?” you ask from behind him, glancing over his shoulder into the empty hallway.

“No one–You!” The door closes with a bang.

Confused, you walk further into the apartment. “Well, telling me you didn’t is just going to make me think that you did.” Wade darts past you and takes a seat on the couch, but you hang back and lean against the kitchen table to avoid sitting on leather.

Wade suddenly turns to face you. “Did I ever tell you about our time in The Void?”

“Wade,” Logan warns.

Wade’s eyes are sparkling with mischief and you can’t deny how fun it is to indulge the way he pushes Logan’s buttons. It’s a good distraction from how you’re drenched in sweat. And you’re actually curious.

You play your part, letting out a faux-scandalised gasp. “Did you..?”

“Oh, yeah, baby. Wolverine goes both ways. All the ways, really.” He grins. “We’re so alike.”

“Shut up. Both of you.” Logan groans, lacking any real threat as he adjusts in his seat and wipes some sweat off his brow. “It’s too fucking hot to be annoyed.”

It isn’t lost on you he doesn’t deny a thing.

– – – – –

Apartments look weird with nothing in them.

It’s what crossed your mind after you finished packing up your place three days ago, and it crosses your mind now as you look into the open space of your new one from the doorway. It’s a pleasant, late summer day; perfect weather to move, which was on your schedule for today.

“Incoming!” comes from behind you, followed by quick, heavy steps.

You jump aside as Ellie sails through the door, carefully setting a big box marked “Kitchen” down in its designated area, followed by Logan who is balancing three boxes at once. After a beat, Yukio follows, holding a single table lamp in her hand. It takes some effort not to laugh, not just because of how funny it looks, but also because you relate; after all the exhausting late nights you pulled packing up, that’s also the kind of energy you’re bringing to this.

It’s nice of them to help, and instead of shoving that feeling away in fear, you allow yourself to bask in it. You don’t get long, however, because more help has just arrived.

Wade. With Vanessa. Hands interlocked.

It draws everyone’s eyes to the doorway. Wade looks almost bashful, and it baffles you how someone who can say the most insane things unprompted, all without batting an eye, could blush while holding hands with a girl he likes. To his credit, he shakes it off quickly.

“All right, all right,” he says. “Stop ogling me and my girlfriend and get back to work everyone!”

– – – – –

“So it was like an experiment?” you ask, stirring the pot on your stove before taking a careful bite of food off your wooden spoon.

Tonight’s your first night hosting at your new place – Family Dinner, Wade had dubbed it. With fall setting in, you had an idea of what to make, but it still made you nervous to have everyone in your space. Logan saw right through you, offering to come over early to help you prepare. 

Once he had arrived, it hadn’t taken long for him to admit he wasn’t much of a cook, so he mainly chopped vegetables as you chatted; you about your new place, Logan about his new job as a boxing instructor, Laura going off to college. You don’t remember exactly how the subject of his adamantium came up, but he was telling you freely about it.

“They needed someone who could regenerate fast enough to bond with it,” he explains. “I was in a dark place. Figured I didn’t have anything to lose if it didn’t work.”

You nod in understanding. “Do you… remember much about it?” You put your spoon down, then put the lid back on the pan. 

Logan’s knife stops hitting the cutting board. “Yeah, I… I remember every second of it.”

You look at him then. His eyes are still cast down at his task. Unsure of what to say, you think about what you’d want to hear, and you find it might be best to say nothing at all. Instead, your hand finds his shoulder. Logan’s head turns to you, and you feel like the look you share is more important than anything you could’ve told him. His hand covers yours with an appreciative squeeze. 

“But I’m trying to leave that there so I can focus on remembering what happens to me here.” As soon as he’s said it, his hand quickly slips off yours, adding, in a rush, “Here in this timeline, I mean.” 

You smile at him, but a strange feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. “That sounds like a great idea.”

– – – – –

“I need your help with something,” you say, balancing your phone between your ear and your shoulder while you turn a birthday card over in your hand. Deciding you don’t like it, you throw it back on the pile of cards and continue your grocery shopping.

“Just say the word,” comes Logan’s reply from the other end.

“I need you to steal something out of the apartment for me.” There’s a silence, and you purposely let the feeling of trepidation linger.

“Am gonna need you to say a little more than just that.”

You laugh, “Wade’s been talking about getting a little frame for his polaroid. You know, the polaroid that you held on to for him in The Void, after the two of you fu–”

“Yes, I know the one,” he interjects with a huff. He pauses, sighs, then says, “Consider it done.”

THE PARTY

“There you are!” Wade shouts after he opens the door. He pulls you into a hug that you return with a wide smile. Over his shoulder, you see that the apartment’s crowded, bustling with people who are there for his birthday party.

“I got you something,” you say, offering the small package to him after you step inside and hang up your coat.

“Wouldn’t have let you in if you hadn’t,” he admits as he closes the door behind you with a bang. Wade takes the package from your hand, shaking it next to his ear but hearing it make no sound in response. “Is it a cock ring?”

You can’t help but laugh at that. “Unfortunately, they were all sold out.”

“They always are,” he says, making a disappointed face. Bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you watch as he tears at the wrapping paper to reveal his gift. He makes another face when he sees it. “Well, now I feel like an asshole. This is really nice.”

“Logan helped me kidnap it,” you explain, pointing at the picture. “And the little red hearts on the frame, well, they’re your color, but they also reminded me of how much you care about people.”

When he looks at you after, it’s with genuine emotion… but Wade is Wade. “Never thought I’d say this, but I’m kind of happy you walked in here barfing up the place.”

A strange mix of embarrassment and gratitude claws its way up your neck. “Thank you.”

“We should take a new one,” he decides suddenly, pointing at the picture. “You both should be in it.” His head turns, watching as Logan approaches the two of you. “But let’s be realistic, his shoulders are so broad he wouldn’t even fit in the frame, much less his bul–”

“Stop talking about my dick, Wade,” Logan snaps.

“I was saying only good things! Jeez, so sensitive…” Wade turns, putting the picture on the kitchen table behind him where it joins all the other gifts.

“Did he like it?” Logan asks, voice low.

“Yeah,” you smile.

“Good,” he replies. “Was a nice idea.”

You eye all the other gifts, some clearer who they are from than others. “What did you get him?”

The corner of Logan’s mouth lifts as he points at a roll of silver duct tape with a small red bow on top, making you fix them both with a confused look.

“It’s an inside joke,” Logan shrugs.

Wade’s eyes sparkle, but in a rare turn of events, he doesn’t elaborate, only adds, “It’s classified. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.” 

“And I have top level clearance, lieutenant,” you reply. You exhale through your nose in an amused laugh when Wade makes a surprised face that indicates you’ve gotten the reference. “What, you thought a Tom Cruise impression could save you?”

“No,” he grins, and as if on cue, the doorbell rings, “but that can. Birthday Boy duty calls, but I want it on record that I could do Top Gun, easily, while Tom would never be able to pull off Deadpool.”

– – – – –

The party settles into something comfortable, soft music in the background of lively chatter. Yukio has just finished telling you about a Professor Layton cosplay she’s doing when you excuse yourself, both your glass and your social battery empty enough to look for a momentary out. Finding your way through the crowd, you make it to the kitchen, filling your glass with water and taking a few sips. 

While you do, the music suddenly gets louder, taking over for the steady chatter. You turn around, leaning back against the kitchen counter, and watch as Wade drags Vanessa to the middle of the apartment. People make room for them, exchanging looks while Wade wraps his arm around her waist, takes her hand in his and begins dancing with her. With a laugh, she slaps him on the chest, before settling into his embrace anyway. Some follow their lead, but your eyes stay glued to them. Wade spins Vanessa under his arm, the smile on her face bright enough to light up the entire room. In return, he looks at her with so much adoration he’s almost glowing himself. It fills you with warmth to see the both of them so happy.

It hits you how you haven’t thought about this in a while. You’d decided long ago that the future wasn’t something you had to worry about, but suddenly you’ve arrived, like you’re in some alternate reality where your future is now, and that it would be nice to share it with someone. The sting behind your eyes catches you a little off guard; mixed feelings of time that has been taken from you, but also of time you’re getting back with the life you now have.

For a while now, you’ve suspected the thing inside you is gone, that there isn’t much to feed off of anymore. If it is, it would make sense that there’s room for something else.

Wade and Vanessa make it look easy, even though you know it’s been far from easy for them. You suppose that’s what it’s like, especially as you get older. It’s less about big gestures, more about small ones; someone to make you laugh, to spin you under their arm, who knows how to apologize, seeks you out during your quiet moments–

“Do you dance?”

You startle, head turning towards the voice next to you– 

“Logan,” you breathe. 

It’s like you’re seeing him for the very first time. He’s standing so close, almost touching you but not quite, heat radiating off of him nonetheless. The plaid shirt he’s wearing isn’t even buttoned and still the fabric is pulled taunt over his shoulders and the thick of his biceps. He’s grinning, his nose pulled up in an adorable scrunch, the corner of his eyes crinkling - you never noticed before, but there’s a hint of green between the hazel.

It hits you so suddenly that you have to grab the counter to keep your balance. Everything that’s been happening, that you’ve been feeling, all the times something happened between the two of you that you couldn’t put your finger on… it falls into place with a well-timed, completely unrelated question and a glance at him.

You like him.

All you can do is blink at him, dazed, unable to speak, even more so when he leans in a little closer, mistaking your silence for misunderstanding. “I mean, not that I– You and Wade were doing a bit earlier, it’s a reference to–” Logan straightens suddenly, his expression slipping into concern as he watches you, “Are you okay?”

You feel warm, so aware of all his attention on you that you’re afraid he might be able to see your pulse blink rapidly below the angle of your jaw. “Yeah,” you reply, voice hoarse, looking away from him to blink the leftover wetness from earlier out of your eyes. 

Anxiety claws its way into your chest, your mind coming to terms with what it’s puzzled together at such a sickening pace that there’s an immediate knot in your stomach. The party has instantly lost its shine, and you look down at the glass in your hand, gulping down its contents. You need to be alone with your thoughts, you need to think about this before–

“I gotta go,” you say in such a rush that it almost sounds like one word while you set your glass on the kitchen counter.

Logan’s eyes follow you as you push past him, grab your coat and reach for the doorknob. “Wait–”

“Bye, Logan.”

THE TABLE

Once at home, you change into something more comfortable, your mind racing while you peel your party clothes off, toss your bra aside, change into an oversized shirt and plop down on the couch after.

Despite having already established that your mind was occupied with other things for a very long time, it’s laughable in hindsight that you never noticed your feelings before. It’s not like you don’t know what Logan’s like; he’s kind, funny, supportive…

…broad, handsome.

Shit.

Why did you have to come to your senses? Things were better before that moment. Logan’s your friend, whom you met in the most unconventional way possible. It’s ridiculous to want more than what you have when what you have is good. Or to think that he would want more.

But he might.

Because you may have been occupied with depression, anxiety, recovery, and everything in between, but you were there; you remember the time you spent with him, the way he looks at you, drinks the coffee you like, laughs at your jokes, seems to know exactly when to call you, seeks you out in a crowd.

But it would change everyth– 

Actually, not a whole lot would change, if you really think about it. You already see him all the time, you’ve seen the very worst of each other, overcome a great deal of hardship together, you make each other better, his friends are your… 

friends. 

You didn’t say goodbye to Wade.

The thought comes suddenly. It was his birthday party and you didn’t even say goodbye to him before you left. You’re a terrible friend. Dread sinks into your limbs, and you reach for your phone to type out a quick, apologetic message. Just as you hit send, there’s a series of loud knocks on the door, and it makes you freeze up where you’re seated.

“Are you in there?” a muffled voice calls out.

It’s Logan, you realize, and a plethora of fake excuses as to why you left the party early present themselves to your mind as you quickly make your way over to the door.

The first thing you notice when you open it is that he’s dripping wet from the rain, clothes soaked through and his hair flat. There’s a deep furrow in his brow, and it’s different from how he usually looks; he looks actually mad.

“Logan, is everything–” you begin, concerned, but he cuts you off by pushing past you and letting himself inside, boots stomping against the wooden floor. 

“Jesus, here you are. Why’d you leave like that, huh? Saying goodbye, your eyes all wet. I went after you and you were fucking gone, it scared the shit out of me. Didn’t see the car at the lookout, but I went to look for you anyway, and you weren’t in the water, thank fuck–”

“Wait, you went–” you pause, the mental image of Logan running out into the rain to the cliffside making your eyes widen. “Did you think..?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, shoulders slumping.

“Shit.” Your heart is racing when you step closer to him. “No, I wasn’t… I don’t want that anymore.”

“Then what the fuck was that all about?”

The desperation and misunderstanding in his eyes is unmistakable, and you hate that you made him feel like that. “I was just… I needed a moment, after seeing Wade and Vanessa like that,” you say, trying to provide yourself with more time to think, unsure if you already want to broach the subject of why you really left.

“You… like Wade?” Logan asks, his frown deepening.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you at the unexpected question. “No. I mean, I adore Wade, but not like that. He’s with Vanessa.”

The answer does nothing to change his expression. “And you want it to be different?”

His line of questioning confuses you. “I– No. Logan, this isn’t about Wade or Vanessa, but it’s about… what they have. Something that’s real, but imperfect, and that’s what actually makes it perfect, and I just… I was in a really bad place for such a long time, I didn’t give myself time to even think about… I haven’t felt myself wanting for so long,” your gaze flicks up to his. “Seeing them just made me realize there’s so much left that I still want.” 

Internally, you curse the way he always makes you say too much, because you can see the understanding wash over his features. His expression softens, the balled fists by his side loosen, and his eyes search you, as if to see if that thing you want is him. There’s no doubt he finds his answer; you’re ever the open book when it comes to him, and your pulse quickens while he silently observes you. 

Logan reaches for you so quickly that you can barely prepare for it, a hand on your waist to pull you in, another on your cheek to tip your face up and guide your mouth to his. A shaky breath sails out through your nose when your lips meet, your eyes fluttering shut and your palms sliding up his damp but warm chest to curl in the soaked fabric of his shirt. It’s eager, and the angle is off, but it’s quickly adjusted with a brief parting and a near in-sync tilt of your heads in the other direction. 

Logan pulls away, but stays close, and you almost feel his words before hearing them, “Been… thinking about doing that.”

“Really?” you say, breathless and amused. “When did you, um, start wanting to do that?”

“Few weeks ago–Fuck, no, more than that. Almost did, that day after your first meeting, after you told me you were proud of me,” he admits. “But I wanted to give you time, space. Wasn’t sure if you felt–”

“I do. Didn’t realize it before, but I fucking do,” you assure him, another tug on his collar trying to pull him back to you. His admissions, knowing he wants you too, only make you want him more, like you have to make up for all the time you wasted not doing this sooner.

Logan’s hand on your waist holds you off. “I just don’t know how to… how to be this,” he confesses softly.

“That’s okay,” you say, your nose brushing against his. “I don’t either.”

He inches forward like he intends to kiss you again, but seems to reconsider, swallowing hard before saying, “Wouldn’t be the first time we figure it out together, huh?”

The words make you surge forward to close the gap between you, your brows creasing, attempting to convey everything you feel with one press of your lips to his. Logan’s hand slides from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you to him in a way that seems to mirror your efforts. Something lights up inside you, something you lost long ago, and it makes you bold, opening your mouth under his to get a taste of him. 

His grip on you tightens with a groan, spurring him into action and walking you backwards into the dark kitchen, the only illumination the slivers of moonlight that come through the kitchen window. You jolt when the back of your thighs hit the table, before you’re scrambling to get on top of it, two hands at your waist helping to hoist you up. Your thighs widen to make room for Logan’s while you push the green flannel shirt off his shoulders, struggling to peel it off his arms to the point you have to break away with a laugh to really get it right. It lands on the floor with a wet sound, before he reaches for the back of his shirt, curling his fingers around the collar and pulling it over his head.

Logan’s sturdy, warm to the touch and surprisingly pliant when you can’t help but let your fingers flit along the corded muscles and protruding veins while he toes off his shoes. His hand flies to the back of your head to fist the hair at the nape of your neck when your lips explore, find his jaw, and travel down his neck. A soft sound sails from his mouth, a barely audible moan that carries over into something deeper when your lips brush a spot just above his clavicle. Using the grip he has on you, he drags you back up to his mouth, doing some more of his own exploring when his warm tongue strokes against your own. 

“You’re so good to me,” he murmurs with a buck of his hips against yours. The thrill of having him pushed up against you, half-hard, warm, full of promise, makes you moan, teeth clacking against his when you do. “Always so fucking good to me.”

It makes you want to protest, from the very moment you met, he’s the one always being that to you, but it dies on your tongue when Logan’s flicks over the tips of his fingers. His impatient hand finds its way between you, disappearing under the waistband of your underwear and stretching the material to make room. His name comes out as a whimper when his spit-slick fingers easily glide through the soft skin between your legs. He curses, another buck of his hips pressing his hand closer against you, and your kiss turns messy and uncoordinated when he dips one finger to touch your clit. 

“This okay?” Logan asks when you gasp, drawing languid circles between your legs.

“Yeah, it’s just– Oh, god.” Two thick fingers find your entrance, swirling the wetness there around. “Been a while,” you manage to finish your sentence.

“I’ll make it good for you,” he promises. “You want that?”

All you can do is nod, and Logan presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he pulls his hand back. It’s paired with a wet sound that makes your cheeks heat, more so when you watch him get on his knees and yank you to the edge of the table, the quick turn of events and the casual display of his strength making you a little dizzy. Logan’s nose presses into the fabric between your legs with a sharp inhale, before quick, practiced moves work your underwear down your legs. One eager hand places a thigh on his shoulder as another holds you at the bend of your knee. You lie back, arching as you hurriedly pull your t-shirt over your head, leaning up on your elbows just in time to watch him bend down. 

The feeling of Logan’s hot breath sailing out over your sensitive skin alone is enough to make you gasp. He drags his lips and nose across your folds, easing you into it as much as his lack of patience will allow before tasting you with a swipe of his tongue. It isn’t tentative or testing, but firm and sure, and clearly for his enjoyment as much as yours when he repeats his action and groans into you. The vibrations of it and the gentle scratch of his facial hair only add to the liquid feeling in the pit of your stomach. Letting go of your knee, he curls a strong arm around your thigh, spreading you open then pulling you flush against him while he sucks your clit into his mouth.

“Oh, that feels really good,” you spur him on, your heel digging in between his shoulder blades. You watch him with hooded eyes, shifting your weight to one elbow so you can cup your breast with a whine. 

Logan’s eyes slip shut in focus, working his tongue up and down your clit and making you arch into his mouth. Reaching for you blindly, he slides a hand over yours on your chest, fingers fitting between your own and squeezing while his tongue slides lower to lick over where you’re dripping for him. He lets out an appreciative hum as he repeats the move until your thighs clench and shake around his ears. His tongue dips inside you, curling up against the slick walls of your cunt, and his name tumbles from your mouth, soft, pleading, making his eyes shoot open to meet yours.

The sight of him looking up at you like that from between your thighs, with dark eyes, the tip of his nose glistening with your wetness, will probably haunt you for the rest of your life. 

Logan shushes your begging, pulling away and watching as your pussy clenches at the sudden lack of attention. “Let me give you something to come on,” he murmurs, before fitting a finger at your entrance. It meets absolutely no resistance, a second finger sliding inside with just as much ease, and he sets a steady, deep rhythm before his mouth returns to your clit.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck–” Your head rolls back between your shoulder blades, mouth open on a silent gasp, but he draws your attention back to him with a curl of his fingers, finding a spot that makes you go rigid for a second. It all builds so fast, so suddenly. The hand on your chest shakes Logan’s off, finding the crown of his head and sliding your fingers into his hair. He’s too strong to really make purchase, but you try anyway, using your grip to roll your hips against him. The sound of his groans, every flick of his tongue and every squelching, delicious curl of his fingers all send you closer and closer, until his hand presses down on your belly, and…

“Logan,” you manage, voice sharp with a warning that comes too late when he makes you tumble over the edge. 

It’s so much after so long, the force of it making you fall back against the table, something between a gasp and a shout tearing from your throat. He holds you tighter, to keep you in place and guide the desperate roll of your hips against his face. Your orgasm quickly slips into something bordering on oversensitivity, and you let out a dry sob that makes you slap a hand over your mouth when Logan’s tongue travels a path from where his stilled fingers disappear inside you, up to your clit. He stays there, gentle, uncharacteristically patient as you slowly come to a twitching halt. 

He’s a blur when he comes back into your field of view after standing up, towering over you to watch as you come back down to earth. Becoming sharper with every heavy blink of your eyes, you notice the smile on his face is smug, that the hair surrounding it is a shade darker than the rest. You sigh softly when his fingers slip from you, the feeling of them sliding wetly over your clit making you tremble, but his touch doesn’t leave you completely when he moves to stroke the outside of your thigh.

“How’s that?” Logan dares to ask.

“Hmm, no speaking yet,” you protest.

Reaching for him, you slide both of your arms up over his broad shoulders, wrists crossed in the nape of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. It’s slow, and deep, the taste of yourself shared between the two of you as your tongue slides over his. The table protests with a creak when his hands land beside your head, more when his chest pushes down on yours and you wrap a leg around his waist to get him even closer. The hair scattered across his broad chest teases your nipples and the hard ridge of his cock strains against his jeans and presses up against your slick cunt. It makes your jaw go slack, stoking your desire and making you burn with the need to make him feel as good as he just made you feel. 

With a push against his shoulders, you take him along as you sit upright again, accompanied by another creak of the table. Mouth still on his, you slide a hand down to cup him over his jeans, the weight of him against your wide open palm making you pulse. Logan grunts when your hand squeezes, and your mouth slides off his, kissing his jaw, sliding back down his neck. He cups your head, keeping you in place while watching your hand.

“Feels nice,” he husks, voice so deep it makes you want to push him aside and get on your knees for him, but then he asks, “Are you gonna let me fuck you?”

“God, yeah,” you say with a nod, watching as the mark you just sucked into his neck disappears far too soon while you continue rubbing him over the denim. “Want you inside of me.”

“Jesus–Then get it out,” he instructs, guiding your hand to his belt. 

If you weren’t so turned on you might wince at how eager you are, at how quickly you tug the buckle open and pull the leather free. Logan groans when it relieves some of the pressure, letting his forehead rest against yours. Together, you watch your hands make quick work of his zipper, your fist closing around his cock while your other hand works his pants down until he can kick it off and under the table.

He fits nicely in your palm, heavy and ready, sticky at the tip. With a purse of your lips, you let your spit trickle down in a straight line, and he hisses when it hits him. Your free hand flattens against his stomach, sliding down along the hard planes of his body and following the vein just below his belly button down, until it meets your other hand that loosely strokes up to the root of his cock. Logan arches into you when you stroke back up with a tighter grip, all but getting on his toes to chase your touch. Using both of your hands to get all of him, you twist your fists in opposite directions once, twice, before circling his tip with one thumb. Your other hand curls around the underside of him, dragging some of your spit down to his balls with the tips of your fingers.

“F–fuck,” Logan stutters when you play with him there, cupping him in your hand as well as you can and squeezing his shaft when it twitches in response. His eyes slip shut as his palms land on the outside of your thighs with a smack, fingertips digging into your soft skin. 

It makes you jolt, then grin, giddy from the sharp sting and the power you have over his pleasure. “How’s that?” you echo with a teasing lilt.

He does have the words to answer, albeit a little slurred, “‘S good, sweetheart.”

The nickname tacked on at the end takes root in your chest, blooms bright and makes you ache. You translate your appreciation into tightening your strokes and spreading more of the precome that steadily leaks from his tip around.

“C’mere,” Logan says softly, taking over for you with one hand, giving himself a few strokes before pushing your thighs further apart and shuffling closer to line himself up with you.

You’re so wet that the head of his cock is practically already slipping inside of you, but your hand clasps around his bicep when he really starts to breach you. After giving you a shallow little thrust, his hips draw back, before pushing a little further, gauging your reaction.

“Just like that,” you sigh, watching the careful slide of him in and out of you. “Keep going just like that.”

He gets you opened up like that, giving you a little more with each wind of his hips. Logan’s hand finds the back of your neck, his palm splaying out and keeping you close enough that you’re practically sharing air with each sigh and moan. Eventually, your knees have to draw up to his flanks in order for him to keep going and you wind a leg around his hip to close the final distance with a press of your heel into one of the firm cheeks of his ass. A long breath sails out from between your lips when you pulse around him, slowly adjusting to having all of him filling you up. You can tell he has to put considerable effort into letting you, wood groaning below you when he clutches onto the table.

“Fuck, it’s a lot,” you say, and when he grins against your mouth you can’t help but kiss him again – just a peck. The hand at the back of your neck squeezes in reassurance as he continues to let you lead, and it’s a small gesture, but it makes you feel warm all over. You melt into it his touch, your body relaxing as the pleasure of the stretch of him takes over.  

“Can stay like this a little longer if you want,” he says, but the strain in his voice says something different.

“Hmm, no, you can move.” You’ve barely said it, or his hips are drawing back, and it would have made you laugh if it didn’t feel so fucking incredible. He almost slips from you completely, before sliding all the way back inside with a grunt. The table scrapes along the floor, and vaguely you register one of your chairs falling over in the process. When he repeats the action, the furniture squeaks again below you. “Just don’t break my table.”

The sound he makes in response is non-commital, and when he fucks back into you and nudges against something wonderful, you can’t say you disagree. Grabbing hold of his shoulder and using the leg you have wrapped around him, you roll your hips against his, and he begins to meet you halfway until you work up a rhythm together. The table protest further, a shrill sound filling the room after each slap of skin–

With a frustrated groan and accompanied by a startled squeal from yourself, Logan lifts you. The surprised laugh that threatens to bubble up your throat quickly morphs into something heavier that comes out with a rasp when he makes it all look unusually effortless. Attempting to brace yourself, you sling one arm over his shoulders, the other winding around his neck so you can rake your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. It’s a struggle to keep your balance, a helpless heel digging into the back of his thigh to keep yourself upright. Quick to aid, Logan slides an arm under you, fingers splayed across your ass as your knee hangs off the inside of his elbow. He turns a quarter, presses you up against the wall, and doesn’t miss a beat as he continues fucking you. 

“Jesus, Logan,” you say, voice almost a growl and barely recognizable as your own.

With your new position, you can see him better, the both of you lit from the side with the window to your left. The moonlight paints him in a tapestry of light and shadows when the wind blows through the tree branches, momentarily amplifying the glint in his eyes and the flex of his chest and arms like a strobe light.

The different angle he finds with his cock is a little too good, the feeling of the thick base of him stretching you open with each thrust making you dazed and talkative, “It’s so deep like this, can–oh, my god–can feel you everywhere.” 

Logan curses at your words, squeezing your waist and pushing you harder against the wall. There’s a deep-voiced appreciation of how good you feel in there too that doesn’t quite make it from your ears to your brain because somehow he’s still speeding up. His head ducks down to your chest, mouthing at the soft skin of your breast before closing his lips around a nipple. 

You whine, using the grip you have on him to roll your hips against the piston of his while you pant into his crown. Though the sound he makes against you when you do it makes you beam with pride, it’s not something you can keep up for very long, your hold on him slacking after a few thrust until you slip back against the wall. 

Logan pulls back when you do, tightening his hold on you while his eyes glide from the bounce of your tits that glisten with his spit to down between your bodies. 

“Touch yourself,” he instructs, grunting when you immediately do as he says by bringing a hand down between where you’re joined. Your fingers spread in a V-shape around where he fucks into you, collecting some of your mixed arousal before using it to rub your clit. “That’s it, sweetheart, fuck, make yourself come.”

You nod, rapidly feeling everything zeroing in on the fingers that draw tight circles over your clit and that spot deep inside you that Logan’s finding with every thrust. “Yeah, fuck, I’m–Don’t stop, don’t stop, please–”

He’s coming before you are, tucking his head below your chin to let out a deep, drawn out moan against your neck that ends with his teeth grazing your skin. It’s so much, the pressure of him grinding himself into you with twitching, barely there thrusts, the heat of his release as it fills you where you’re gripping him like a vice, and as your fingers still twirl between your legs you come, and come, and come. 

The leg you have wrapped around his hip slips off, but before your toes can even scrape the floor, he catches your thigh, cupping your ass with both hands now to keep you up, and close. With a soft, satisfied sound, you let your forehead fall against Logan’s shoulder, tasting the salt of his sweat with every light press of your lips there.

It takes you a moment to notice your back has come off the wall, that Logan is walking the both of you into your living room and to the couch. He bends his knees, dropping you between your pillows, where you land with as much grace as you can muster considering you feel like you’re made of lead. The soft couch is pleasant against your body, your sore limbs sinking into the cushions. 

Logan fits himself between your legs again, widening them around his broad shoulders before his lips find your overstretched thighs, leaving marks and kisses up up up, until his tongue slips back into your pussy. Your back arches off the couch, hands shooting down to fist his hair with a whine while Logan’s hand fists his cock. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can tell he’s already getting hard again, and his tongue is making something swirl low in your belly that’s making you pant, and...

It’ll be a long night.

THE PEARL

It had taken a lot of convincing and downright groveling, but Wade had allowed you to bring a movie for movie night. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust your taste in movies, his main gripe with your choice was that it wasn’t a Christmas movie – mandatory for December. Wade’s right, but after you explained that it’s the movie you always watch at the end of the year (and after Logan and yourself conceded that yes, his birthday was technically also your anniversary) he’d agreed. 

Now that you’re actually watching it, you suspect he’s genuinely invested, because after a handful of comments about The Hulk, he’s been quiet for longer than you’ve ever heard him be quiet.

In the scene on the screen, Mark Ruffalo’s character Dan and Keira Knightley’s character Gretta are taking an evening walk around New York City, dancing, singing and sharing music with each other as they do. Eventually, they stop and sit next to each other on some steps, watching as the city continues to move without them.

“...the most banal scenes are suddenly invested with so much meaning, ya know? All these banalities, they're suddenly turned into these… these beautiful, effervescent pearls,” Dan says, wistfully looking on as New York bustles around him. “I gotta say, as I've gotten older these pearls are just… becoming increasingly more and more rare to me.”

The arm Logan has slung around your shoulder tightens, and the couch creaks softly as you lean further into his side, your cheek squishing against his warm chest.

“More string than pearls?” Gretta inquires with a frown.

“Yeah. You got to travel over a lot more string to get to the pearls.” There’s a pause as he turns to look at her, “This moment is a pearl, Gretta.”

She gives him a hint of a smile. “It sort of is, isn't it?”

“All this has been a pearl,” he admits, sharing a look with her.

A finger curls under your chin, tipping your head up until your eyes meet Logan’s. He gives you the same look you just saw on the screen, his eyes soft as they take you in, the hint of green between the hazel illuminated by the light of the television. A thumb swipes over your bottom lip fondly, before he leans down to kiss you.

It takes a lot of string indeed.

Sometimes even interdimensional string.

– – – – –

(THE END)

If you made it all the way here, thanks for reading. Seriously. Please come say hi and/or share your thoughts via ask/messages/reblogs/whatever you feel comfortable with. I hope to share more writing soon - emphasis on hope, I'm not making promises, just an educated wish.

And lastly, if you're struggling with mental health problems, please don't wait for a handsome stranger to sweep you off your feet. I know from experience that it can be incredibly difficult to reach that hand out, but I also know from experience that things can get better. There are ways to get help and you deserve to get help 🫂

[caddyceus]

waw thank you @driveroftheday for the tag!☺

last song i listened to: beauty school by deftones

last movie i watched: currently watching a pirates of the caribbean behind the scenes documentary

sweet/savory/spicy: today...sweet

relationship status: single ♡ married to thousands

current obsession: i will be real, i'm in between places rn and it's been hard with no obsession😔 let's say grocerystore maxxing, that takes up most of my mind now

tagging: the line will die with me here sorrys...

[howtodisappearcompletelyand]

20/10 stars little guy

[grimvisionary]

you want to look at my stupid gay little tests into getting back into drawing.

[citruscloudsandmoon]

Tag people you would like to get to know better

Thank you so much for tagging me @litterateur97 😁❤️ This was fun 😁🤩

Three Ships?

Lxmisa from death note. Have been shipping them since 2016 😍. All it took was this below scene 🤭. So even if they don't make sense, I will make them make sense to you 😘

Kaihil from Beyblade. I shipped them when I didn't know the meaning of shipping 😅 Beyblade V-force was streaming on toonami those days. Back then, I liked seeing Hiromi with both Kai and Tyson 😂. Then years passed. In my gap year, I re-watched both Digimon and Beyblade. And my love for kaihil reignited all over again. It only grew stronger when I was browsing ffn and deviant art all night 😍

Ulquihime from bleach. Funny story about them; I wouldn't have shipped them if it weren't for coming across gorgeous art of them by rboz. Wanting to know more about them, I started watching and reading bleach. So imagine my shock and misery when I came to know what happens in the end 😭🥲 but oh well, such is life and Kubo 😒. Still got the wonderful fandom where I can muse about them 😍❤️

2. First ship?

Kaihil was going to be here but I wouldn't count that because the grip they still have on me is insane 😭😍 So I am going to chose Kaede and Dylan from Mirmo anime

I would watch the show after coming back from school 🥹 the Hindi dub made it all more funnier. I was so happy when Kaede and Dylan got together 😭😍

3. Last song?

Dil Kay Isharay (DKI) by Taha G. It's an Urdu song and Taha G is so talented 💛🌻

4. Last movie?

White Chicks 🌚 this movie never gets old 😂

5. Currently reading?

Atomic habits by James Clear 🥲. I am right now trying to fix my routine and failing quite miserably in it. So while the boat is sinking, I am reading the said self help book to see if it would make any difference. So far it has kept me engaged 👀.

6. Currently watching?

Emily in Paris (S2). You have every right to judge me 🥲 but I just wanted to see what the hype was all about. And even though the show is patsy and Emily is starting to infuriate me (like girl you like Gabriel!!! Why the hell are you insistent in getting him back with his ex?! 😭), I can see why people like it. It's overall light-hearted and funny at some scenes.

Other than that, I am binge watching on friends sitcom along with my sister. Also I am watching the local urdu TV drama as well ' Mujhay pyaar hua tha'.

7. Currently consuming?

Roasted cashews 🤤

8. Currently craving?

Chicken Alfredo pasta 😭

9. Tagging now; @jkrobertson @kaflowypiec @neomoreheroes @green-mint @ishkajules @shewhodancedinthemoonlight, @professorchameleon @squicky-fannish-discourse @smoochme @wolborgie and anyone else who wants to do it 😁

Have fun 🌻

[ruporas]

hi!! it's the anon with massive brainrot that spammed 3 fat asks at once <3

i'm so so so happy that u responded to all my ramblings so earnestly. and in DEPTH. that last rant u had about the nature of vashwood and how they view each other and their insecurities and all that... it took me forever to read cuz i kept stopping to just Sit and Think About It

but u also asked about that spotlight metaphor i mentioned and. it's bad lmfao

i was actually thinking about in 98 trigun where wolfwood takes a very permanent vacation. i'd remembered a kind of spotlight effect on him during that scene, and looking it up just now i realize it was cuz one of the church windows cast this warm square of light over him

so my memory was slightly off- i'd thought it was more of an actual spotlight- but i lost my mind when i thought you might've been referencing it for some reason. i didn't wanna bring it up tho cuz i figured i was wrong, and evidently i was lol

anywho, YAY LOST PAGE RECOVERY! kind of honored that i accidentally dug it up

bound to want still reads surprisingly smooth despite the fact it was missing a whole page tho. i never would've known if you didnt say anything. ETERNALLY happy i have it now, of course- it's beautiful and i adore the composition <3 it speaks so strongly to the atmosphere and what's going on

side note: would it be ok if i messaged u to talk about vashwood more? cuz i can Seriously ramble nonstop but i feel like im annoying your other followers lol (it's like i have everyone cuffed to desks as i aggressively slap a whiteboard with bound to want pasted on it)

i just. want to praise your work so Bad. i notice so many little things and it gets swept under the rug so much cuz an anon ask can only get so obnoxious haha.

but yeah! thanks sm for bein so amazing. i hope school goes well for you so u can thrive with vashwood this summer <3

(also i SAW that tag about bonus content. i Saw it. i'm Thinking about it)

OHHHHHH I understand what you mean by that though! It makes sense to me to presume that considering the confetti notes haha, but yeah, just one reference to his permanent vacation and it's in the confetti!!

BUT WAH, thank you so much again for your kind kind words!!! Yes, feel free to message me whenever, I always welcome it. It'll definitely take me some time to respond because life and I also like to sit down with a response and have the proper coherency to respond with my full attention and stuff. It's an honor to hear about detail analysis about my work so!!! I welcome it, thank you so so much!!!

[unitedhamilton]

Five and One

Summary: five times you were Lewis' comments and the one time he was in yours.

A/N: this is my first time doing a smau! I had so much fun making this. Enjoy lovelies 💜

Liked by ynusername, trentarnold66, and 808,211 others

lewishamilton Next stop, Imola 🚀

View all 4,595 comments

user1 nice pic 🔥

user2 nice 😍😍😍

user3 champion

user4 8 time user5 SAY IT LOUDER

ynusername put me in the trunk and drive away with me PLEASE 🙏🤤

ynbestfriend this is your public account girlfriend ynusername and? I hope Lewis sees my comment user6 he doesn't want you ynusername he always wants me

masonmount shoe game goes hard

user9 give me a pair of your boots 🤲🏻

Liked by pierregasly, ynusername, and 815,441 others

lewishamilton Our time here on this planet is so short.

View all 6,133 comments

ynusername our time is so short so spend it with me please

user10 you beautiful man! 💜

ynusername SHOW THE FULL PIC

ynusername 💦💦🌊🌊

ynbestfriend what are these supposed to represent? ynusername water...obviously

user15 Ur literal job is burning fuel and rubber. Hy. po. crite

user16 shut up

roscoelovescoco go dads! you rocks!

Like by ynusername, marcusrashford, and 922,836 others

lewishamilton Thankful for this time I've had off but now it's go time!

View all 6,367 comments

user1 this this this 🙌

ynusername i could climb you

ynbestfriend GIRL GET OUT OF HIS COMMENTS. TALK TO HIM user17 what do you mean by this? 🤨🎤

ynusername let me sit in your lap 🧎‍♀️

ynusername begging to be that soda can 🙏

user18 aren't we all 🙄 user19 get in line

user3 Ginger Ale...? ....RIGHT 😎

wroetoshaw common Lewis W

user39 bro came out of retirement to comment on a Lewis post

Liked by mercedesamgf1, ynusername, and 1,278,754 others

lewishamilton It's a dream.

View all 12,569 comments

ynusername DON'T BUTTON THE SHIRT

ynusername UNBUTTON IT user5 did you just reply to yourself? ynusername maybe? don't judge me

user7 I totally dig your style!! Hawt! ❤️‍🔥

ynbestfriend i don't think @ ynusername is alive. it was nice knowing you

ynusername i've died but come back but i'm dying again user25 literally me

user17 are you grey?

fencer my bestie

Liked by ynusername, pierregasly, and 466,308 others

lewishamilton New week, new possibilities ���🏾

View all 3,280 comments

ynusername i'm literally speechless

user16 wow

user8 nice 👌👌👌

ynusername i have no words

ynbestfriend for once?!?!?!? he's killed you

ynusername I'M TRYING TO FIND SOMETHING TO SAY AND I CAN'T 😭

user4 daddy

ynusername simple, but effective

user15 i need that shirt

Liked by lewishamilton, serenawilliams, and 2,387,102 others

ynusername i may be in his comments but he's forever in my heart 💜

tagged lewishamilton

View all 102,409 comments

lewishamilton my love ❤️

ynbestfriend YAY BESTIE THIS HAS BEEN SUCH A HARD SECRET TO KEEP ❤️

serenawilliams congrats 🎉

user29 THIS WHOLE TIME??

user13 we need the timeline asap 🤲🏻 user2 her besties comment had me 🤨 one day

kingjames my brother! congrats!

marcusrashford champ on and off the track @ lewishamilton

user4 why can't it have been me 🫠

user1 grow up user4 IT WAS A JOKE

mercedesamgf1 much love to Roscoe's new mom! 🐶💜

ynbestfriend so... when is project hamilton happening with a baby?

ynusername RELAX lewishamilton soon ynusername BRO????

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

An extra stubborn reader who wants Bucky to actually get solid sleep in an actual bed so they refuse to sleep anywhere but the floor unless he’s in bed. Not the sofa, not a recliner, nothing. They’ll be in bed with him if he asks, but it’s the cold floor or nothing. No blanket. No pillow. Either he gets his butt in bed or they sleep alone, cold, and on the floor.

Let’s just say that James Buchanan Barnes sleeps well in bed that night.

🩵🩵

The Bed Or Nothing » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: You try to convince Bucky to sleep in the bed so he can get a good nights sleep.

Warnings: Fluff, implied Smut (18+), language, stubborn!reader, kissing, Bucky’s dog tags, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

“Can you not do this tonight, doll. I’m tired and I have to work tomorrow.” Bucky pleads tiredly.

You’re trying to convince Bucky to sleep in the bed with you so he can get a good nights sleep tonight.

“Do what?” You asked. “All I’m trying to do is get you to sleep in the bed with me tonight.” You say, trying to reason with your boyfriend.

“I’m perfectly fine with sleeping on the floor, doll.” He says.

“You’re not perfectly fine the next morning when you’re complaining about your back hurting.” You say.

“That was one time.” He says.

You just rolled your eyes at him.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.” He says, almost growling.

“I won’t have to roll my eyes if you just sleep in the bed.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’m sleeping on the floor.” He says.

“The floor isn’t an option anymore.” You say.

“Then I’ll sleep on the couch.” He says.

“The couch isn’t an option either.” You say.

Bucky sighs and rubs his hands over his face, too tired to deal with your stubbornness tonight.

“You’re doing it again, babydoll.” Bucky says.

“Doing what again?” You asked.

“Being stubborn.” He says.

“I am not.” You say.

“Yes you are.” He says.

“I am not!” You say, stomping your foot like a child who doesn’t get their way.

“Now you’re being extra stubborn.” He says.

“I’m not being stubborn!” You said once more. “I’m simply trying to get you to sleep in the bed with me so you can get a good nights sleep tonight.” You say.

Bucky leans against the wall and sighs at your stubbornness.

“That’s all you have to do, baby.” You say.

“You know how I feel about sleeping in beds, babydoll.” Bucky says.

“I know, but I’ll be in bed with you.” You say, wrapping your arms around his bare waist.

You stood up on your tippy toes to kiss his lips.

“Please sleep in the bed with me tonight.” You pleaded softly against his lips.

Bucky put his forehead against yours, his tired eyes looking in yours. He already knows you won’t stop being stubborn till he agrees to sleep in the bed with you.

“Ok, fine.” He sighs, giving in. “I’ll sleep in the bed tonight.” He says.

“Yay!” You kissed him again. “Oh and one more thing… no blankets and no pillows on the bed tonight.” You say.

“Then you’re going to be cold tonight.” He says.

“I won’t be if you get your ass in bed tonight.” You bit your bottom lip. “I have another heat source in mind.” You say seductively.

“Oh yea?” He says.

“Mhmm.” You hummed.

You unwrapped your arms from his waist and walked over to the bed. You took the pillows and blankets off of the bed, putting them in a pile next to the dresser. A squeak left your lips when Bucky picked you up and dropped you on the bed. He hovered over you, his Army dog tags dangling above your face.

“Looks like I have to fuck the stubbornness out of you tonight.” Bucky says huskily.

Let’s just say, Bucky slept very well in bed tonight.

🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

-Bucky’s Doll

[randomdragonfires]

If The Sun Ever Rises | Series Masterlist

Listen to the song that inspired this series HERE

PAIRING | Aemond Targaryen x Strong-Niece Reader

SUMMARY | After narrowly escaping the Battle Above God’s Eye, Prince Aemond is now a hidden fugitive within the very kingdom he once ruled. Driven by vengeance, he plans to usurp Aegon III and avenge his family. His rage-blinded path to the throne begins with getting rid of Cregan Stark and the men who support his nephew’s rule. Having nothing to lose, he recklessly kidnaps the Northerner’s betrothed - his own niece - hoping to lure him and his men out to fight.

Soon, Aemond finds that memories of a first love are strong, and that he cannot steel his heart against the woman he has loved all his life.

WARNINGS | 18+; Smut; Canon Divergence - Aemond lives (but barely); Violence; Stockholm Syndrome; Mental and Physical Trauma; Angst; Canon Incest; Manipulation; No Happy Endings In This House YAY

A/N: Major thanks to @humanpurposes for being the loml, and for helping me figure out critical plot points and being with me when I needed it. I love you. :)

NO TAG LIST. PLEASE FOLLOW AND TURN ON POST NOTIFS FOR @randomdragonfics for fic updates!

Chapter 1 | To See You Again

Chapter 2 | Make Me Feel Alive

Chapter 3 | Live To See Another Day

Chapter 4 | Right Where You Left Me

Chapter 5 | Symptom of Your Touch

Chapter 6 | TBA

Chapter 7 | TBA

Chapter 8 | TBA

Chapter 9 | TBA

Chapter 10 | TBA

Text Divider by @saradika

[chrisevansonly]

𝐦𝐨𝐦 & 𝐝𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐭3 | 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐨

✯social media au

✯daniel ricciardo x female reader

✯mom and dad are back at it again…oh yeah and we can’t forget lando too

✯just a little pt3 for mom & dad!! i’ve really loved this little series i think it’s kinda cute🥹🫶🏻

part 1 part 2

ynricciardo

liked by danielricciardo, lilyhme, landonorris and 765,000 others

Mila is with her favourite person in the world today which means mom and dad get to go on a date to celebrate 7 years together, i love you danny thank you for filling Mila and I’s life with so much love, laughter and sunshine, here’s to forever❤️

tagged danielricciardo

see 89,000 comments

username happy anniversary to my parents!!!

username our favourites!!!

username danny + y/n forever!

redbullracing congrats to our favorite couple!❤️

landonorris enjoy your anniversary!!

>ynricciardo pls send more Mila photos shes so cute🥹

>landonorris on it!! we’re having lots of fun♥️

username lando and mila hanging out pls

danielricciardo happy anniversary my love, i love you and mila so much

>ynricciardo🥹♥️

landonorris added to their story

*comments disabled*

danielricciardo

liked by scottyjames31, redbullracing, ynricciardo and 1M others

happy anniversary to my world, thank you for bringing Mila into our lives and for loving me, even when i miss the laundry hamper 50% of the time, here’s to many more♥️

tagged ynricciardo

see 105,000 comments

username HAHAHAHA 50% of the time😭

username my parents 4 LIFE

ynricciardo more like 100% of the time babe nice try🙃

ynricciardo i love you so much though❤️❤️

liked by danielricciardo

username y/n came to correct her man as she should

maxverstappen1 happy anniversary!! 💙

liked by danielricciardo and ynricciardo

landonorris

liked by quadrant, ynricciardo, mclaren and 2M others

just doing my duties with my favourite ricciardo❤️

tagged ynricciardo and danielricciardo

see 145,000 comments

username godfather lando in action

username omg these are so sweet🥹

username LANDO AND MILA SUPREMACY

ynricciardo lando these are so cute, she really loves you, thank you for taking such amazing care of her and making her so happy🩷

>landonorris always mom🫶🏻

>carlossainz55 hand me some tissues pls

username lando still calling y/n mom😭

danielricciardo mila makes these photos cute fyi

>landonorris well obviously 🙄

mclaren our favourite little future mclaren racer!!

>ynricciardo no racing.

>mclaren yes ma’am 😅

ynricciardo

liked by landonorris, wagsoff1, danielricciardo and 1M others

baby ricciardo #2 is on the way!! i couldn’t wait any longer to share the news, i blame danny’s smile for this. of course we caught lando’s reaction once again to the news, safe to say he was shocked, we’re just one big happy family 🩷

yes lando is in this family daniel 😁

tagged danielricciardo

see 300,000 comments

username IM SO HAPPY OMG I CANT

username another baby😭😭😭

charles_leclerc congratulations! can i join this family too?

>danielricciardo no

>ynricciardo yes!! ignore daniel!

landonorris i’m kinda scared for this

landonorris jk very excited for you two 🫶🏻

landonorris also take that ricciardo😁

>danielricciardo i’ll change the locks.

>ynricciardo oh you will?

>danielricciardo…..

username yay congrats you two!!!

landonorris added to their story

ynricciardo

liked by francisca.cgomes, danielricciardo, redbullracing and 1M others

same tree one year apart, feeling so lucky to be here growing another little tiny human, mila, your dad and I cannot wait to meet you🤍

see 99,000 others

username y/n you look stunning

redbullracing congratulations to mom & dad of the track!❤️

username mama of two!!!

>username you mean 3 including lando…

>username HAHAHHA

landonorris i can’t wait either!! two terrors let’s go!

>danielricciardo just wait till we send both of them to your house

>landonorris mate, im ready 🫡

username im sorry but lando’s relationship with them is too precious ☹️

francisca.cgomes yay!! can’t wait to meet baby ricc #2!!

liked by ynricciardo

[countcvnt]

Experiment

Chapter Four: Stamina

[Poly!TF 141 x Fem!Reader]

[Ch. Three] [Ch. Five]

Summary: After a couple days of rest, you realize just how much stamina you have. You train with boys to get some energy out. Warnings: Descriptions of broken bones, mentions of blood, slight suggestive language Word Count: 3.3k A/N: This chapter isn't as sad. Next chapter will have light smut! I got the idea of the chapter link thing from @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries so thanks Ikea!! Hope it's alright tag you just for that lmao. Also I just learned how to do the side by side gifs yay!!

It’s been a couple days since your nap… Since your realization. Simon has only been more distant. You’re sitting in the training area, alone, when Soap and Gaz walk in.

"We got ye this!” Soap extends his hand. “It’s a radio!” You look up at him with confusion. “I ken it isnae a phone…”

“Hey,” You grab it, “it’s better than nothing. Now I can bother all of you all the time!”

“Actin’ more and more like yerself!” Soap hits you on the back. It catches you off guard how hard he hit you. You are fine, you aren’t going to bruise, but you can’t help but wonder if he’d always nudged or hit you so hard. “How come yer here by yerself?”

You shrug. “Simon was supposed to meet me here. Do some training. Guess he skipped out on me.”

Soap lights up. “I can help ye!” He seems excited.

“We both can, actually.” Gaz interjects.

You nod, lighting up. “Okay! I’d like that. I’ll be sure to go easy on the both of you.” You smile at them as you stand up. You already stretched earlier, ten minutes before Simon was supposed to come in. So, instead of doing that, you walk to the middle of the room and stand there, eagerly awaiting Soap and Gaz.

“Now,” Soap puts a hand up, “don’ think ye have to go easy on us.”

Gaz makes a face, “You haven’t seen her strength yet, have you?”

You laugh. “I’ll hold back a little bit…” You reassure him. “But, I don’t want either of you to hold back. I promise, I can take it. Trust me.”

You take a fighting stance, ready for them to come at you. Gaz and Soap look at each other. Gaz gives a gentle nod to Soap, one you assume you were not supposed to catch, and Soap takes off towards you. You plant your feet and prepare yourself for Soap hitting you. His rough hands grab you, and the both of you grapple for a moment. Your arms get free and instinctively wrap around Soap’s ribcage, and get behind him at a speed he was unsure was possible.

You easily bring him up and over you, suplexing him into the mat below you. You stand up straight and look down at Soap. He groans, the air has been knocked out of him. You smile at him and he motions for Gaz to move.

“Yer suppose’ to ger ‘er now.”

Gaz looks at you funny. “I don’t think I want to be thrown like that.”

“It’s kinda hot, actually,” Soap smiles at you once he seems to be breathing properly again. Your face heats up. You look at Soap with wide eyes. He sits up and rubs the back of his neck. “What did they give ye?”

You, still hung up on the ‘hot’ thing, shrug. “I dunno.” Your mind is racing. You need to do something other than rest or eat. You want to throw Soap around some more, but you can’t stop thinking about his comment.

“Look,” Gaz motions towards you, looking at Soap. “She’s in shock. Ya told her that was hot, and now she’s in shock.”

“Same old bonnie,” Soap stands up and smiles at you.

“Uh, that was very cathartic…” You shift your weight, “can we continue this… 'training’?”

“Cathartic? Throwing him around eased your mind?” Gaz looks at you with wide eyes.

You nod at him. “Yeah, I think it’d also be fun if you both ran at me!” You smile wide.

“Yer outnumbered,” Soap places a hand on your shoulder, “that isn’ fair.”

You cross your arms. “Johnny,” You narrow your eyes at him. “They wanted to test my reflexes before you got me out of there. They improved a lot more than my strength, I just wanna test something out…”

The both of them look at each other. “If ya say so.” Gaz responds.

You excitedly nod back and get in your fighting stance once more. “Remember,” You point at them, “do not go easy on me! Please.” You smile at them. You want to know what you’re capable of.

Gaz and Soap don’t say a word. Instead, Gaz runs at you. It's your turn to grapple with him. While you’re fighting with Gaz, you can feel Soap running at you. You tense and throw Gaz to the floor and immediately direct your attention onto Soap. His arms wrap around your waist and you're sent sailing over him. He effortlessly suplexes you into the mat and you groan.

Soap and Gaz are both standing over you, looking down at you and smiling. “Was that payback?” You ask, catching your breath.

“We’re even now.” Soap puts his hand out towards you.

You don’t hesitate to grab it. Soap easily pulls you up and Gaz steadies you as you stand. As you’re thanking them, the doors of the training room opens. The three of you turn towards the door and you perk up.

“You’re finally here!” Your eyes hit Simon’s.

“What do you mean? ‘Finally’?” He looks at the clock on the wall. “I said 12:30… it’s now 12:29.”

“Oh, I thought you said 1200…” You feel embarrassed now.

“You’ve been here since then, waiting?”

“She’s been throwin’ us around.” Gaz rubs the back of his neck.

Simon approaches you and looks down at you, “Good, you’ve been warming up.”

Your stomach flips at how he says that. His tone… He has not come to just mess around, you already know that much. He walks past you and towards the end of the mat. Soap, Gaz, and you stare at him. He motions for Soap and Gaz to move, and they do. You blink at him. You quickly take your ass to the other end of the mat and wait for Simon’s next move.

Simon does not say a word. Instead, he rushes you. He easily grabs you, turns you around, and is holding you close to him, his arms keeping you from moving. You let you an awkward laugh, “What the fuck?” Simon doesn’t say a word. Instead he shoves you forward. You do not miss a step. You turn back to him and rush towards him.

“Suplex him!” Gaz shouts from the sidelines. Him and Soap seem just as curious as you about your strength.

You can’t help but wonder if you could… You want to try it. Simon is a big boy, and you want to test your new found strength. The both of you circle each other and your fingers are wiggling, you’re looking for an opening. You end up moving faster than Simon can register. You wind up behind him and grab his waist.

Simon does not let you get further than that. His elbow rears back, and you realize you are at just the right angle to get hit just a tad too late. Simon’s elbow slams into your face, harder than he had expected it to, and a loud pop echoes through the training room. You let go of him immediately. You fall to the floor, warmth covering your face. You let out a low, primal growl ready to fucking obliterate Simon. You want to maul him. Something in you is about to snap. Until suddenly his words replay in your head. ‘I trust you.’

Simon would never intentionally hurt you. And when you look up at Simon, his eyes tell you he truly did not mean to hit you so hard. Your eyes cut towards Soap and Gaz, who are watching you with anticipation.

You inhale sharply through your mouth and snap your nose back into place, stopping the bleeding pretty quickly. You sit up and Ghost puts his hand towards you. “Come on,” He sounds like he’s trying to keep himself calm. “You need to go to the med bay.”

Your bloody hand reaches for him and you grab it. You, in the spur of the moment, decide now would be a good time to take advantage of the situation and as you pull yourself up, kick your leg out. It slams into Simon’s shin and he’s doubling over. You slam your body into his and slide across the mat. You straddle Simon and you're holding him down. You’re breathing heavily and watching him.

The look in his eyes tells you he had not expected that. “Don’t let your guard down.” You heave out, a dull pain pulsating through your nose.

Simon sits there a moment. You move to get up and look at Soap and Gaz, who are watching with wide eyes. As you stand, a hand grabs you and you’re flipped. Your back slams into the floor and the wind is knocked out of you. You gasp. Your eyes shoot open and Simon is crouching above you, his large, rough hand wrapped around your throat. You watch him, unblinking. Not breathing.

Simon lowers himself to your level. His eyes stay on yours. You swallow hard and inhale shakily as his lips hover over your ear. “Don’t let your guard down.” He whispers in your ear. He stands up and walks off from you. “Get her to the med bay.”

You lie on the floor. The door opens and closes as Simon leaves. You, still laying down, look over at Soap and Gaz. You try to process everything that just happened. They rush over to you and Gaz crouches beside you. You look at him, eyes still wide, brain still processing. Neither of them seem to have expected that.

“Gaz,” Soap looks off towards the door, “I’m gonna check on Ghost…”

“Okay, I’ll get her checked out.” Gaz nods at Soap. He places a hand on your shoulder and you sit up. Gaz helps you stand and you look at all the blood on the ground and your hands. You know it’s covering your face. “Come on, love, let’s go.”

You're sitting in an exam room, mostly cleaned up. You look at the monitor across the room from you, your eyes stuck on it. The IV pole is beside it. “Are they gonna hook me up?” You ask Gaz, your eyes not leaving the monitor.

“No, love,” Gaz grips your shoulder. “You just broke your nose. They have no need to hook you up to that.”

The doctor walks in as he finishes his sentence. She's a woman. You feel yourself relaxing a little bit. Her lab coat isn't doing you any favors though. All medical coats must be the same, all you can think about is the facility. You exhale slowly and grab Gaz���s hand. He gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“I'm Doctor Johnson, I'll be checking on you, okay?” You can't tell if she used to know you or not. You nod at her. “What happened?”

“Well, I assume it all started when I was taken–”

“No, not that far back,” Gaz smiles at you.

“Oh, my bad.” You look at the doctor. “I was training with Lt. Ghost and we got a little too rough. Thankfully, I don't get hurt like normal people.” You say, kicking your feet off of the side of the exam bed.

Her face contorts. “Okay–” She drags out the word. “Is that from your…” She pauses. She knows. You nod. “Okay, Price should have brought you to me sooner.” She looks at Gaz and back at you. “Is it okay if he's in here?”

“Of course! I actually prefer it… him staying.”

Dr. Johnson nods. “That's fine, just wanna make sure.” She smiles at you softly. “Can I check your nose?” When you say yes, she approaches you. Her gloved hands gently touch the bridge of your nose. You don't flinch at her touches. She gently pushes it and it pops. Again, you don't flinch. “You can't feel that?”

“I mean, I know you're touching me. But it doesn't hurt, no.” You shake your head.

She hums. She checks inside and then looks at you. “Your nose, you broke it before.” She states it as fact. She knows you have.

“Well, actually, yes. At the facility, they broke it. They hit me with the butt of an assault rifle.”

Gaz’s drop on your hand tightens. You can see his whole body tense, his Adam's apple bobs. You say it so nonchalantly. He doesn't like it.

The doctor swallows hard. She seems stunned. She quickly gathers her thoughts and inhales through her nose. “May I ask what tests they ran on you?”

“Yes you may,” you reply sweetly. “But I can't tell you what they were. They never told me. I just know I'm quite literally built to take those types of blows and then some.”

“We could help you figure it out.” She suggests it. She isn't pushing you.

“No.” It's the first thing that comes from your mouth. “I'm already stressed enough sitting right here in front of you. I will not be hooked up to monitors, or poked with needles.” You stand your ground.

“It's okay,” Gaz calms you down. “We don't have to do that. Not right now.”

The doctor purses her lips, looking at Gaz. “It'd be good to know those things. It could help you.” She sounds so calming, genuinely trying to keep you from freaking out.

You do want to know what's up with you. But you don't want to put yourself in distress just to figure it out. You sigh. “Not right now.” You shake your head. “I need time to think about it.”

She nods at you. “That's fine. Your nose is completely fine. You're free to leave, if you'd like.”

You have never gotten up so fast in your life. You drag Gaz out of the room with you. He doesn't stumble once, but he does wince, causing you to realize how tightly you're holding onto him. You mumble an apology and let him go once you're out of the exam room. You stop in the hall and take everything in. The lights are bright and everything smells so… sterile. It's almost haunting.

“We can get out of here.”

“That sounds good.” The both of you begin to leave. “Do you wanna train again?” You ask him, cocking your head.

Gaz makes a gutteral noise, laughing. “After all that, you still wanna train?”

“Yes, it was nice. It was… relieving my stress. I still have a bunch of pent up energy.”

“We'll find you something to take that out on.” He leads you out of the med bay.

“After sleeping the last couple of nights, I've never felt better I don't think. I must have stamina for days. I feel like I could go at it forever.”

“Oh?” Gaz looks over his shoulder at you. “Forever? And what are you going at exactly?” His brow cocks.

Your face heats up. “Not like– That's not– In a sense–” You stumble on your words. “Fuck.” You want to bury your head in your hands.

“Oh, fuck?” Gaz smirks at you. “Really? I didn't know you were like that.” He nudges you with his elbow.

“Kyle, I'm going to die. I think I'm literally going to pass away.” You look at him with a pout.

“Sorry, love, you aren't getting out that easy. I think I have an idea on how to get your energy out though. We could always try the gym, or the track? There's a new recruit who beat the best time and I think– I know you can beat him.” He turns and grabs your shoulders. “I think it'd be really funny if you beat him.”

You smirk at him. “I'm an enhanced individual now. And you want me to beat some poor rookie’s best time on the track? You want me to destroy him?”

“Yes. Gotta keep the new guys in check. Plus, we can check that stamina of yours.”

You smile, “Okay!” You put a finger up, “But, I'm not doing it to pumble some guy's record. I'm doing it because I'm testing myself.”

“Hey, that's fine with me.” Gaz grabs your hand again. “Come on!”

You let out a laugh as Gaz drags you outside and towards the track. When you get outside there are several people stretching, getting ready to run. Most of them are men.

“Hey,” you look at Gaz, “do you think they'll be emotionally distraught if I outrun them?”

You sure hope so.

“Only one to find out.”

Gaz walks over to the track with you. You approach the group and they all look at you. Your grip tightens on Gaz’s hand and you smile awkwardly at them. Most of the people are new recruits. You are positive they don't know about your… predicament. You introduce yourself as Ace.

“Just came to run a little bit, burn some energy!” You release Gaz’s hand.

They don't seem to think much about it. You walk towards the track and ready yourself. The sergeant at the sidelines readies the group and you examine them. You're trying to pick out the fastest one. The one you want to beat. Or one Gaz wants you to beat.

“Three–”

Everyone is getting ready to run. You look at Gaz.

“Two–”

He motions towards a tall, slender man. You lock on.

“One!”

You take off. All of you take off. You know you're supposed to pace yourself when running. You watch everyone doing that, except one person. The one Gaz pointed out to you. You can feel Gaz watching you. You have an urge to show off for him. The urge to impress him is suddenly very strong. You don't fight it.

You take off. Your legs push you forward and quickly run by the man. You give him a smile as you run by him. He doesn't falter. He picks up his speed. So you do the same.

Before you know it you are speeding around the track. The man left in the dust. You reach the end of the mile and smile at Gaz. He's the only one you see. You don't notice everyone stopped and staring. The sergeant clicks his timer.

“Ace,” the sergeant waves you over. “You just beat the fastest time by three minutes…”

“What. The. Fuck!?” A scream echoes from behind you. “How did you do that?”

“Peter, calm down.”

“What the fuck,” He repeats himself, quieter this time. “That’s not possible… I did track for years! And you come up here out of nowhere–” His hands are in his hair. His eye on the ground.

Oh, he’s mad. You watch him closely. Gaz steps in between you and Peter. You feel butterflies in your stomach as he does that. Peter looks distraught.

“How did you do that?”

You aren't sure how much you can tell him. So you shrug.

“You don't know?” His eyes widened. “Did you do track at all? Have you ever even run in your life? You aren't even out of breath!”

“I don't know–”

“What does that mean?! You don't know? How does someone not know that?”

He's so fragile. He storms off. You look at Gaz and he turns his head towards you.

“Did I do okay?” You can't help but ask.

“Okay?” He asks you. “Love, that was amazing! You set a new record!”

“I wasn't even doing the best I could–” Your face is hot.

Gaz pulls you into a hug. He's proud of you. You don't immediately hug back, causing Gaz to pull away. You pull him back to you, keeping from crushing him. The last time you hugged one of them —intentionally— was when you hugged Simon two days ago. You hadn't realized how much you needed physical contact since then.

Gaz hugs back, his hand rubbing your back. It seems to be just as therapeutic for him.

“Okay,” the sergeant speaks up, “how did you do that?”

Gaz pulls away from you, and you look at the sergeant. You shrug. “I'm just that good, I guess.”

The sergeant narrows his eyes. He doesn't get a chance to say anything about it before your new radio goes off.

“Ace,” Price comes over the radio. “meet me at the barracks immediately, over.”

You groan. “Copy, over.”

He knows something. You grab Gaz's hand and begin back towards base. Gaz doesn't argue with you taking him with you. He does seem confused. But he holds your hand with no complaints, following you to the barracks.

Taglist:

@moonyinthestars @dory-98 @otto-s-alskling @aeilani @klutzy-kay24 @sher-ni @infpt-zylith @eustassh @kaoyamamegami @zoexme @reap3erslov3 @fruitymoonbeams-blog @cosmic-rich @bvxygriimes @waiting-so-long @mill7531

(tags are being weird again, i'm sorry if it didn't let me tag you... also think that's everyone? If i forgot you, just let me know I'll be sure to add you next chapter! I'm sorry im very forgetful and my list fills.. like it's missing someone)

[the-boy-meets-evil]

right where you left me | ksy & jww

(where you're in an open relationship with soonyoung, who doesn't want to come on your family christmas vacation. it's okay. you run into your ex at the resort anyway.)

pairing: soonyoung (hoshi) x f.reader, ex!wonwoo x f.reader genre: est. relationships, exes to lovers to ??, love triangles | smut, angst??, fluff word count: ~8.6k (yeah, idk either) warnings: open relationship (implied, not explicitly discussed), wonwoo and soonyoung both know about each other (but never actually interact), reader goes away with family for the holidays, mentions of christmas (including christmas dinner), mentions of drinking, soonyoung is soft for reader, wonwoo just wants a second chance, one (1) holy spirit joke, reader does make a choice at the end, smut warnings under the cut

a/n: this is for the amazing and wonderful @beomcoups from your secret santa, blitzen, for @kpopsecretsanta 💕 summer, i already knew you were actually the best. so, it's been really fun getting to send you asks and come up with something for you. i hope you like it (and i'm so sorry it got this long). this is honestly not where i meant for this to go. ily and merry (belated) christmas! thank you to @wooahaeproductions (once again) for giving me a title and to my bby @wongyuseokie for the beautiful banner so last minute.

a/n 2: i'm for real taking a writing break now because december has been busy 😂

tagging: @aaniag, @gyuminusone, @horanghater

smut warnings: multiple smut scenes, lots of kissing, so many orgasms, so much cum (i'm sorry), dirty talk, spit as lube (just for handjobs), handjobs, blowjobs, implied edging, vaginal fingering, protected sex (yay!), implied/referenced phone sex, kind of dom!wonwoo, kind of switch!reader, wonwoo is bossy, oral sex (f. receiving), begging, slight hair pulling, slight nipple play, choking, unprotected sex (don't do this), fucking from behind, pulling out, cum on the back/ass, referenced marking, referenced restraints, pet names (doll, sweetheart, babydoll, baby), probably teasing somewhere, i think that's it (i swear there's plot in there too)

“Are you all packed?” 

Soonyoung is stretched out on your bed, watching you search through your closet. You sigh when you can’t find the one sweater you’re looking for.

“Almost,” you say. 

“It’s on the drying rack in your spare bedroom,” he says. 

You spin around to look at him, eyebrow raised. “What?”

“That sweater you love? The one you pull out the second it’s cool enough?” Soonyoung prompts. 

You give him a look, but don’t say anything. Instead, you walk into the other room and find he’s right. The last thing you want to throw into your suitcase is actually exactly where he said. You check that it’s dry before retrieving it to fold and tuck away. 

“How?” you ask when you reenter the room. 

He just shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess I know you pretty well.”

That tugs at your heartstrings a little, especially this time of year. Because it’s true. Hardly anyone knows you as well as the beautiful man sprawled on your bed, scrolling through his phone. Yet, he’s also the one that seems to hurt you the most. Always exactly where you need him to be, but never quite within reach. This kind, wonderful human that surprises you with things that remind him of you, but can’t (or won’t) come with you for the holidays to a beautiful, snow-covered resort. It’s not worth bringing up again…

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” you ask.

…but you do anyway. Like the sucker for pain you are. Like somehow the answer is going to change from the last time you asked.

This does make him look up, at least. It’s hard to see the look he gives you. It’s a little comforting that he does look sorry. Not quite enough to ease the ache in your heart. That’s neither here nor there, though.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” he answers. 

“I know,” you sigh. 

And you do know. Your relationship with Soonyoung happened out of nowhere. When you were trying desperately to heal over the worst heartbreak you could imagine and he happened to be there. Maybe that’s why you feel this inexplicable draw to him, even now. Because he was the one to help you put the pieces back together, the one to let you know that you weren’t asking for something unreasonable from your ex, that it was okay to make whatever type of life you wanted for yourself. Over time, you felt yourself getting more attached and let it happen, even knowing it was the wrong choice. Not because Soonyoung is wrong or anything short of great. It’s just, well, he’s always been honest, sometimes painfully so, about exactly who he is and what he wants. He’s just not sure, at least right now, that a closed relationship where he meets the parents is what he wants. 

An open relationship hadn’t been something you considered. It still wasn’t a consideration when you first started sleeping with Soonyoung. It wasn’t until you realized you wanted more of him that you had to have the conversation. Which is how you’re here, now. Going to see your parents and the rest of your family for a beautiful vacation alone despite being in a relationship. Despite him having met some of your family, like your cousins, and the number of dates you go on. Sometimes it really is enough. Not because you’re telling yourself it is. It just is. He comes up with the most thoughtful dates. Surprises you with little things just because. He’s so insanely thoughtful. So, maybe it’s enough that he doesn’t want to come meet your parents.

“Come here,” he requests, opening his arms for you. 

You sigh before giving in and snuggling into him on the bed. He plants a soft kiss on the top of your head first, then your temple. You settle against his chest, timing your own breathing with the rise and fall of his chest. There’s something so comforting about lying like this. Something that makes it easier to be honest when you’re not looking into his incredibly soft eyes.

“I do get it, Soonie,” you repeat softly. “This makes sense for us and I don’t want that to change. I don’t need my parents getting involved.”

“Maybe next year,” he says and that pulls you up short. He’s never said that before. You can’t really help it, you pull away to look into his eyes. “I like being around you and neither of us has been seeing many other people lately. So maybe it’s something we can talk about in the new year.” 

“I don’t want it to be anything that you feel…” you start and he presses a kiss to your lips.

“I don’t,” he assures you. “And you’re still free to do whatever you want, obviously. I don’t even know what it might look like. Just, I don’t know, I figure maybe after the holidays we can figure out if anything changes here.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you agree. 

“But for today…” he says, drifting off as his eyes roam over your body.

“You’re exhausting,” you complain.

“You tried on Christmas dresses in front of me! I’ve been here suffering thinking that I won’t get to slide that material off your soft skin,” he says and kisses your shoulder. “Sitting here neglected as I watched you pack away skirts and those pants that make your ass look amazing.” 

“You’re not neglected,” you tease as he presses a long kiss to your neck. 

“I’m wasting away from the lack of attention,” he whines.

“Hm, is that right?” you ask. 

“It is,” he concludes. 

“Well, we can’t have that,” you say low, running your hand down his stomach. 

“Don’t you have to leave soon?” he asks, stuttering when your hand runs over his cock through his pants. You rub him ever so gently, delighting in the way he reacts.

“I can stop if you want,” you suggest. 

“You know I don’t want you to, but…” he starts and trails off when you move your hand towards his waistband.

“I’m driving, Soon, I can be a little late. I’ll just blame traffic,” you say.

“Fuck it,” he curses. 

You drag his pants and briefs down in one motion, freeing his cock. You remember the first time you fucked him, when he was nervous that you were going to be somehow disappointed. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Not only is he the perfect size, but he has a way of moving his hips while fucking you that’s always drives you crazy.

There isn’t time for you to be walking down memory lane, though. You spit into your hand so that you can start stroking him, delight in how he’s already a little hard. Maybe he wasn’t lying about the torture of watching you try on clothes. After all, you did catch him adjusting on the bed a time or two. It’s not enough for you, just stroking him and listening to all the beautiful sounds that he makes. Before he even realizes what’s happening, you’re taking him into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around the tip and carefully massaging his balls with your free hand. You hollow your cheeks when you take as much of him into your mouth as you can. Carefully sucking while you bob your head on his cock, running a hand up and down the base as you continue to work on him. 

“Fuck, that mouth is so good,” he whines. “Oh my god! Ugh, yes!” 

One of the things you like about Soonyoung is times like this, where he doesn’t need to be in control. Where he just lets you take care of him. Lets you make him feel good. Just completely turns to putty in your hands. He’s muttering obscenities about how much he loves your mouth, how you know just what to do, how you’re cruel for bringing him to the edge and then backing off. You may not have enough time, but you also can’t really stop yourself. 

“You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up,” Soonyoung warns. 

You pull up off him just for a second to fix him with a look. “Kinda the point, isn’t it?” 

“Not if it means I don’t get to fuck you,” he answers and pulls off his shirt. 

Okay, you can take the hint. You quickly strip off all your clothes and move up to lie on your side facing him. He captures your lips in a kiss and quickly puts a hand between your legs. No time to waste. He runs his fingers along your entrance, collecting the wetness there and groaning, probably at how you’re wet just from blowing him. When he slides a finger inside your cunt, you want to pull away from the kiss. Instead, you just moan into his mouth, spurring him to pump his finger into you faster. Another moan and he presses a second finger in. 

When you first started fucking Soonyoung, you were a little embarrased about several things when it came to sex. One had been how wet you get. He had been so quick with the praise, so quick to assure you that it was a good thing, so quick to make you comfortable. Now, you barely even think about it. Everything with him is effortless, comfortable. It’s entirely too fast when you feel like you’re already starting to come undone. 

“God, I love watching that pussy suck my fingers in,” he says. “So good for me, so greedy.”

“Fuck, Soon, hang on,” you pant out.

“Feeling good?” he asks.

“Yeah but you’re gonna make me come,” you whine. 

“Isn’t that the point?” he parrots back.

“Thought you wanted to fuck me,” you remind him.

He removes his fingers from your cunt entirely too quickly so he can roll over to reach the drawer. With surprising speed, he pulls a condom out and has it on in a matter of seconds. You’re about to ask how he wants you when he rolls back over and hikes one of your legs up. This is a new position for the two of you, surprising with how many you’ve tried. There’s something a little intimate, facing each other like this with your leg up over his arm. His brows furrow a little as he lines himself up. 

“Oh god,” you moan out when he presses all the way in, right off the bat. Even with the prepping, it’s more of a stretch than you were expecting so fast.

“You okay?” he asks. Even though he wants it to be fast, he’s still so considerate.

“Yes, just fucking move, please,” you whine.

“So needy,” he says, but he still moves. 

It’s fast and a little desperate and the angle has him hitting you just where you want him. It doesn’t feel awkward in this position, either, which crossed your mind for a second. You’re clinging to any part of him that you can, moaning incoherently, about to come undone in a stupidly short time. But, he’s babbling too, uttering praises for how good he feels, reminding you how amazing you are. He’s so vocal and it’s what sends you over the edge. He follows right behind you.

You lay on your back and take a few moments to catch your breath. Watch him as he gets up to dispose of the condom. Smile when he comes back and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. He’s so pretty like this, glowing and smiley and perfectly content. So are you, apparently, as he tells you constantly.

“You have to go because I have to shower and I don’t want to have to shower again after that,” you say when you get up.

“But, what if I want round two?” he asks, drawing you in against his body. 

You lean your head to press a kiss to his lips and carefully pull away. “Then, you’ll just have to wait til I’m back.”

“Thought you didn’t mind being late,” he presses.

“A little late,” you say and laugh at the pout. “You’re cute, Soonie, but I still have to go.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “You’ll be back before New Year’s?”

“Yeah, for the party,” you confirm. 

“I’ll miss you,” he whispers into your hair. The kiss he presses to the top of your head nearly has your knees weak. Instead, you just smile as he leaves and rush off to the shower before you get in the car. 

The resort your parents picked this year for the holidays is beautiful. There’s a main resort and also a bunch of smaller buildings with rooms that are more like condos. Your parents are staying in a particularly roomy one, because they love to host, so you don’t feel too stuck by staying with them. It’s also nice because the resort is attached to a ski lodge. You can actually ski straight from the rooms onto one of the trails. It’s all beautiful and you feel incredibly at peace. 

(You also appreciate how there are plenty of things to do for people that don’t like to ski or snowboard. Not that you don’t, you’re just sometimes a little worried you’ll fall.)

The first night was just for relaxing after the ride up. The four hour drive ended up going a lot faster with your cousin in the passenger seat, thankful you hadn’t actually left yet because her car broke down. Even though you don’t live far apart, you feel like you don’t see her nearly often enough. So the car ride is a nice way to catch up. 

Now that it’s the first full day, you’re ready to explore a little bit. Your parents mentioned a little cafe in the lodge that sounds like the perfect place to get a cup of coffee. Of course, you could make it in the room, but it probably wouldn’t taste as good. Bundled up, you head down to the lodge and look out for the cafe. It ends up being pretty easy to find. And it’s not the only thing. 

It’s like a pull that you can’t explain, the way your eyes fall on someone sitting in an armchair just to the side of the cafe. His dark hair has that slightly tousled look, probably from being outside, and his glasses keep sliding down his nose. As you watch, he absently pushes them back up, eyes glued on the book in his lap. There is no world where it makes sense that he’s here and also no world where he could be anyone else. You’re debating whether or not to approach him when he looks up. The smile he sends your way has you feeling things that you know you shouldn’t. 

Your feet carry you towards him without permission and he rises to meet you part way. “Hey, what are you…” 

At the same time, he starts to say, “wow, small world.”

It’s a little awkward (read: a lot) and neither of you really know what to say. It’s been two years since you last saw each other, two years since you last spoke, two years since the break up that nearly tore you apart. Even though it’s been long enough that you feel better about it, it’s still awkward. He probably feels it too, the uncertainty of running into each other someplace so unexpected. The question of how to move forward. 

“So, um, this is…” Wonwoo starts.

“Awkward? Weird? Unexpected?” you offer through a forced laugh.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“My family is here for Christmas,” you answer. “Yours too?” 

“Yeah,” he says. 

“Right,” you say. “Well, I was just going to get…”

“Can we talk? Maybe over lunch or something?” he asks just as you’re ready to turn around. 

You’re rooted to the spot, unable to answer him right away. Can you? Yes, you definitely have that capability. Should you? That’s a bit harder to answer. Your brain is full of images of your past relationship - the good, the bad, the ugly - and your current situation. Maybe Wonwoo still does know you, at least well enough to read your face, because he speaks up again.

“Never mind, that was silly to ask,” he says.

“No, it wasn’t. I’m sorry. I’m just, I don’t know, a little overwhelmed, I guess,” you admit.

“Me too, if it helps,” he says. 

You look down at your watch. It’s a little earlier than you usually eat lunch, but maybe that’ll be a good thing. “Do you wanna get something now?”

“What about your coffee?” Wonwoo asks.

“I’m sure the restaurant has some,” you say before you lose the courage. 

Lunch is actually surprisingly easy. Well, after you get some of the awkwardness out of the way. But, it gives you a chance to say a lot of things you both kept to yourselves. Back when you were dating Wonwoo, it got harder until it was too much. He was always soft spoken, always afraid to burden anyone else with his problems. Even when you reminded him that’s what partners were for, he just kept most of it to himself. Which wasn’t healthy for either of you. You wanted things out in the open so you could talk about them, he kept them to himself. Something tiny could fester into something much bigger and then become a real issue. Even when it came to issues at work or with other friends, he was hesitant to mention it. By not wanting to be a burden, he ended up driving a massive wedge between you. And he’s able to share things with you, too. Like how it wasn’t always easy to want to share when he felt pressured. He knows you only cared, but sometimes he wasn’t ready. Sometimes he couldn’t talk about it in the moment and just needed a day to process. Something he knows that he should have shared with you, as well. 

It turns into a much longer meal than either of you expect. After talking about your relationship, you fill in the last two years. He talks about work and friends and reluctantly admits that he hasn’t dated anyone seriously since you. When it’s your turn, you stumble over explaining Soonyoung, ending up opting for full transparency. If he’s surprised, he hides it well. Seems to understand that trying something a little different can be exactly what you need. When you finally check your phone to see you’re running late to meet your cousins, you say goodbye with a promise to hang out again. And an assurance that you haven’t changed your number and he isn’t blocked. 

You spend most of the afternoon playing games with your cousins and sharing what you’ve been up to. The cousin that rode with you, and knows Wonwoo the best, is nearly on the floor when you tell her that he’s here somehow. Especially because she also knows Soonyoung and likes him, but thinks he’s not the long term plan for you. She’s a little surprised, given how much you smiled about seeing Wonwoo, at how fiercely you defend Soonyoung. It’s just, well, he’s been a lot for you in so many ways. Yes, some of it has been painful and some of it has involved learning things you’re not sure you needed to. But, it’s also been safe and protected. It’s allowed you to grow in ways you never expected. 

An afternoon of gaming turns into a night of dinner in the suite, more games, and drinking. Your cousin takes your phone and texts Wonwoo from it. Invites him over to the room to pick you up. Of course, she doesn’t tell you any of that. But, when you answer the door and see your ex on the other side, he suggests you check your phone. You shoot your cousin a look and grab your coat. He’s here, so you might as well go with him. When he holds out his hand for you, you take it and follow him into the night. 

The next days pass in a kind of haze. It’s so pretty to be at the resort, watching the way snow seems to fall more often than not, even if it’s just a light flurry for 20 minutes. There’s a beautiful, tucked away corner of the lodge where you can sit in rocking chairs by floor to ceiling windows. It gives you a perfect vantage point to watch the snow, or watch people coming down trails, watch anything. You’re with Wonwoo more than your own family, a fact that nobody seems to talk about. Maybe because everyone liked Wonwoo and nobody really understood why it ended. You hadn’t wanted to talk about it. And now it doesn’t seem to matter. The man before you isn’t the same boy that you walked away from two years ago. You’re not the same either. Both of you get a lot of time nestled away in the cocoon of the holiday vacation to talk about that. To talk about who you are now and where you want to be. About if things would turn out differently now.

It’s all kind of a practiced dance, though, because Wonwoo knows that Soonyoung exists. He knows that there’s someone you’re not really ready to let go that may be waiting for you to get back to have an important conversation. (He is waiting for you, but you don’t tell Wonwoo that. Because it may not be in the way you wish he was waiting for you. What you do know is that he’s been sending you a lot of messages. There are a lot of things that seem to remind him of you. So, he’s constantly on your mind.) And there are some things that haven’t changed about Wonwoo, too. One of those things is that he doesn’t really find the idea of sharing a partner appealing. Even though he’s one of the most secure people you know, you can also tell what he thinks about the complication of your current situation. There’s no judgment, only more hurdles. It’s like he wants you to consider giving him another shot, but he doesn’t really know where to start. 

Since Christmas Eve and Christmas morning are for family, you get a much needed break from having Wonwoo around constantly. Not that you mind, it’s just that your head needs a little space. You need to figure out what exactly you want. Which isn’t really any easier when you’re separated from your ex, sadly. Both he and Soonyoung are still fighting for space. Your thoughts are kind of a jumbled mess. 

(It doesn’t help that Soonyoung calls you on Christmas Eve. Or that the call turns into FaceTime and that turns into the two of you getting off. Phone sex wasn’t ever really something you were into before him. You didn’t really get the appeal of it. But, you’ve seen the positives of it with him. Still can’t really believe how easy it is for him to push you over the edge when he’s not even with you. And you kind of like knowing you do the same to him, seeing his cum paint his stomach after he finishes. He gets a little sappy after he comes, too. When you’re both cleaned up, he’s still there. Telling you that he misses you and that the city feels a little lonely without you there. It’s not like you haven’t left before, but this just feels different to him. He says it all without seeming to think much about it and you’re not really sure how to take it. Is it honest? Or is it the post orgasm haze?) 

But, after Christmas dinner, you’re on your own to do whatever you want. And you know what you don’t need to do. You know that you don’t need to make this whole mess inside your head more complicated than it already is. You do really miss Soonyoung and all his energy. There’s something infectious about him. But, you also know that he’s been very clear on his wants and needs, even if he says you need to talk when you’re back about what’s going on. Then, there’s all your returning feelings for Wonwoo after all the time you’ve spent with him the past several days. Soonyoung seemed to skate over you mentioning running into your ex like it didn’t matter. Or that he trusts you and that the relationship is open, which is the more likely answer. All of that leads to sitting on the couch of Wonwoo’s suite, sipping a glass of wine. 

“What’s going on here?” you ask, interrupting the formerly comfortable silence. 

“We’re drinking wine on Christmas?” Wonwoo suggests.

You turn your head to look at him and find he’s a little confused. “I don’t mean that. I mean,” you gesture between the two of you, “here.” 

“Ah,” Wonwoo says and takes a sip. 

“Yeah,” you say.

“I don’t know, honestly. I know I missed you and that I feel like things are different now. I think we could have actually worked through our issues if we were these people,” Wonwoo says.

“But?” you prompt. Because there’s so clearly a but coming to what he said.

“You’re in a relationship,” he finishes. 

“An open one,” you remind him.

“That you’re not really sure how to define,” he presses back.

“We aren’t even sure if we’d work together again and you’re already worried about what’s going on with Soonyoung,” you sigh. 

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“We’ve got history and it’s been so nice to be around you. But, if we were to try something out again, we’re not just going to jump back into it being serious right away,” you tell him.

“No, I wouldn’t expect it to,” Wonwoo agrees. 

“So does it really matter if I’m seeing someone else? Does anyone outside of us really matter while we’re figuring things out?” you ask.

This is a definite crossroads for Wonwoo. He’s always been very logical and impossibly smart. In all the time you knew him, he was one to weigh things out and go with what made the most sense. It wasn’t like him to be overly emotional about things. Except, apparently, when it came to you. So, this is a big ask. For him to just set aside personal feelings for you and consider the logic behind what you’re saying. It’s a crossroads for you, too. Because you do know it makes sense to consider exploring whatever’s been happening between the two of you. To not have any what-ifs or questions when you go back to the city. To actually explore another genuine connection so you can better understand what you do or don’t feel for Soonyoung.

Wonwoo sighs and nods. “Yeah, you’re right. Focusing on this and figuring it out doesn’t involve anyone else but us.”

“So that last little line of defense stops now?” you ask, hopeful.

“Last line of defense?” he asks. 

You gesture at the space between you. “Ever since I ran into you, there’s always space for the Holy Spirit between us.” 

Both of you laugh at that when Wonwoo’s face cracks into a smile. It erases the last little bit of tension left between the two of you. It’s clear that he means he’s going to give it a real shot to figure out what’s going on without worrying about anyone else. Wonwoo shifts closer to you, rests his arm on the back of the couch behind you, and presses his thigh into yours. 

“Do you still think there’s space for the Holy Spirit?” he asks. 

“No,” you say with a light laugh. 

“I’ve missed you, doll,” he admits and presses a kiss against your temple. 

“I’ve missed you, too,” you say. You turn your body so your back is against the arm of the couch and drape your legs over his lap. It’s a little more comfortable and it lets you look at him easier. 

“It’s so weird to me, running into you here,” he says and you laugh.

“I’d say it’s some kind of fate, but I know you don’t believe in that kinda shit,” you offer.

“I don’t know that I do, but having you around has given me a break from my family,” he shares. 

“Your family is great,” you disagree. 

“They are, but it’s a lot of people time,” he says with a sigh.

Which is why you suggest that you just sit back and watch a movie, something a little scary because you know that’s what he prefers. It doesn’t have to be some Christmas movie, you’ve gotten enough of that with your cousins in the lead up to the holiday. So, you let him pick something and settle back, appreciating the closeness. 

The movie is good, but you’re kind of a fidgeter. You make it through the first half easily, but in the second half, you start getting a little sick of sitting still. Just little things. Adjusting how you’re sitting. Moving your legs slightly. Reaching out for one of Wonwoo’s hands. Something to trick your body into thinking it’s moving. Until it’s a little more than just a movement. Without even thinking, you pull one of your legs towards you, let your knee bend for a second, because it’s a little stiff, and slide it back. It isn’t until Wonwoo sucks in a breath and clenches his jaw that you realize your foot slid right over his dick. 

“Wonwoo, I’m sorry, I didn’t - “ you start, but he’s moving your legs.

“Let’s go,” he says as he stands up.

“What?” you ask. “Go where?” 

“Come on, sweetheart, I’m not gonna play these fucking games,” he says and pulls you up off the couch. 

You’re really caught off guard, because it had been an accident, but your body remembers this. He’s guiding you in front of him to one of the bedrooms and pressing you inside. As soon as you’re both through, he closes and locks the door. Then, he presses you back into it and kisses you hard. Crowds your space so you can’t move an inch. You gasp when he nips at your lip. This has always been the thing about Wonwoo. He’s so quiet and soft spoken and unassuming around everyone else. Just the smart boy who likes to read and play video games. Until he gets you behind closed doors and a switch flips. 

“Fuck, Nu, I swear it was an accident,” you groan as he kisses down your neck.

“So, you don’t wanna get fucked into the mattress? Don’t want me to show you I still know exactly what you like?” he asks.

You’re not the same person you were two years ago, though. “Maybe I like different things now.” 

“We’ll see about that,” he says. 

Before you can respond, he’s kissing you again. Hard and needy and like there isn’t a tomorrow. Maybe there isn’t for the two of you. It’s not like you’ve managed to clear anything up. 

Wonwoo presses his hips into you. Places his hands on either side of your head against the door behind you. It’s so easy to fall into old patterns with him, where you give up your control. Your hands run along his back, underneath his shirt, and he shivers at the touch. It makes him thrust his hips into you again. It makes him grab your hands and pin them in one of his above your head. His lips are demanding when they return to yours, like he’s taking what you owe him. 

There’s no point in begging for more. It would only make him go slower. So, you accept his tongue into your mouth when he keeps kissing you. You let your hands stay pinned above your head. You even chase his lips when he pulls away. It’s hard to suppress the shudder when his lips brush against your ear. 

“I want to fuck you,” he whispers. “I want to press your pretty face into the mattress and get your ass in the air. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” you whimper out. 

Wonwoo pulls away from you and starts to undress. It’s hard to take your eyes off of him because he’s so beautiful. The broadness of his shoulder and his slender waist. The muscles that he hides behind all the layers flex as he pulls off his shirt and steps out of his pants. But, then he’s looking at you expectantly. Likely wondering why you’re fully dressed. You make quick work of getting out of your clothing before turning back to him. 

“Sit on the edge of the bed, babydoll,” he instructs. You hasten to listen to what he asks and he smiles. Not a soft smile. “Open your legs.” 

You do that as well. With your hands on the bed behind you, you lean backwards. Wonwoo kneels down between your legs and runs a hand up your calf. He nips softly at your thighs, sharp enough to make you gasp but not hard enough to leave a mark. As he moves to your other thigh, he spreads your legs further. Only places a light kiss on your other thigh before his hand returns to your pussy. His fingers spread you open and he blows gently. The sensation makes you shiver. It makes you want to beg for him. Instead, you just grip the sheets tighter. Wonwoo chuckles, probably at your attempt to hold back, and licks a stripe up your center. Flattens his tongue against you and runs it slowly through your folds. 

“Oh god,” you moan. You don’t need to look down to see that it makes Wonwoo smile, but you do anyway.

He continues to work you with his tongue, alternating the pace so that you never really know what to expect. His thumb rubs circles over your clit. Maybe he does still know how to get you going. Or maybe your body just remembers him. Either way, he feels so good. You’re entirely more pent up than you feel like you should be. It would be embarrassing if it was with someone you weren’t comfortable with. 

“Fuck, please, baby, I need your fingers,” you beg. 

“You getting close?” he asks.

“Yes, fuck, please,” you cry out.

“Do you think you deserve to come?” he asks. It’s only his thumb on your clit that keeps you going.

“Please,” you beg and hope it’s enough.

It must work because his tongue returns to your cunt and he slides one of his perfect fingers inside as well. The second is in before you realize it and your moans are more sounds than anything intelligible. It’s an unsurprisingly short time before you make a mess of his face and fingers. After he guides you through your orgasm, he stands up and leans over you. Pulls you in for a kiss so that you can taste yourself on his lips. It’s enough to make you a little dizzy. Entirely too soon, he’s breaking the kiss. He runs his hand over his dick and looks at you.

“Spit in your hand,” he directs and you do it without thinking. The post-orgasm haze still has hold of you. 

You don’t need him to tell you what to do next. Before he can say anything, you take over and run your hand down his shaft. Slide your thumb carefully over his tip. Wonwoo clenches his jaw like he’s trying not to let you know just how good it feels. Because you still know him too. You continue to stroke him and take his cock into your mouth. Just the tip, at first. When you look up at him under your lashes, you know that he’s going to lose the battle. 

“Fuck, babydoll, that mouth is better than I remember,” he groans out. His hands wind into your hair, but he doesn’t fuck into your face. You’re a little surprised he can hold back. Especially when you swirl your tongue around his tip. “Okay enough of this.”

Wonwoo, with surprising gentleness, pulls you off of his dick. You have just enough time to look at him triumphantly before he’s moving you back into the bed. He gets you on your hands and knees, presses your back down so that your ass is in the air and your face presses into the pillow in front of you. You arch your back deeper so that he has the best angle. The bed shifts under you and you assume that he’s lining up behind you. He presses a finger into your pussy again and you squirm for a second. When he removes it, you want to complain. But, he’s quick to line himself up and press his cock into you. The pillow muffles your moan as he presses all the way in. His hands find purchase on your hips as he sets a slow rhythm. 

It doesn’t seem like it’s enough, though. His hand finds it’s way into your hair and he pulls back, more gently than he used to. “Is this still okay?” 

His voice is hoarse in your ear. “Fuck, Nu, yes. Be rough with me.” 

It’s all the permission he needs. His hand slides up your body to take your nipple between too skilled fingers. The first twist has you screaming out for him, wanting him to continue. And he does, all while picking up the pace that he fucks into you. He keeps you pressed against his chest. The snap of his hips and the skin slapping together isn’t enough to cover your stream of profanities. Wonwoo places a hand lightly over your throat, using it to anchor you to him. Your loud moan and reassurance of permission makes him squeeze a little tighter. It’s that perfect sensory deprivation to make it all the more intense. Between that and your earlier orgasm, you’re a bit on overload. It’s a kind of mind blankness that you haven’t felt in awhile. Nothing else exists but the pursuit of pleasure. Your mind is totally empty.

Eventually, his movements start to stutter and he releases your throat. Directs you to rub your clit. You hardly need to touch yourself before you feel your second orgasm rip through you, coming all over his dick. He snaps a few more times before pulling out of you. His cum paints over your ass and your back. Wonwoo collapses next to you and you lower yourself down onto your stomach, trying not to make too much of a mess. 

After a moment, Wonwoo presses a kiss to your shoulder. “What do you, babydoll, do I still know you?” 

“It’s like nothing ever changes,” you admit. 

The two days after Christmas seem to pass just as quickly as the days before Christmas. Something feels like it’s shifted with you and Wonwoo, but maybe not in the way you expect. You’re still spending a decent amount of time with him, still being pretty affectionate, but you don’t end up naked in his bed again. It could just be you, though it feels like a joint decision. It feels like it’s some unspoken agreement. 

Everything with Wonwoo has been amazing, like a little break from reality. It’s been so nice to get to see him again, to get to talk about your relationship and everything it meant. Even though you’ve both changed a lot, it’s nice to realize how well he still knows you. And he seems to accept all the ways you’ve changed in stride, which surprises you a little. Change had never been his favorite thing. There’s also just a general sense of nostalgia to your interactions with him. He’s safe in the way someone says that you can always go home. It feels like falling into old patterns. 

But, that’s not what life is supposed to be, is it? Life is about taking chances and risks and pushing yourself out of your comfort zone. Falling back into step with Wonwoo would be so easy. It’s obvious that he still loves you, or maybe loves you again. It’s so easy to picture what your life with him looks like because you remember. You remember all the plans the two of you made. It just feels kind of stagnant, though. You know the kind of love you’re getting back into. It’s not even about not trusting him or worrying it would end up in another break-up. Things are different enough with your communication that you trust it would be different on that front.

It’s just, if you’re being honest with yourself, you can’t get Soonyoung off your mind. Even when you’ve been with Wonwoo, there’s that small voice in the back of your mind whispering Soonyoung’s name. It’s also really hard to stop thinking about what he said before you left. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything changes. Maybe it only means that you define the relationship a little more clearly and it’s still open. But, if you move forward with Wonwoo, you know what that means for Soonyoung. You know it means you’re going to be saying goodbye to the person who’s challenged you, who’s pushed you, who’s forced you out of your comfort zone. You’re just not sure you can do that.

By the time the last night comes around, you know that you need to have an actual conversation with Wonwoo before leaving. Life doesn’t always give you the chance for closure, so you know to take it when it comes around.

“This is it for us, isn’t it?” Wonwoo asks. 

“Yeah, I think it is,” you say. 

“I hope he knows what he’s got,” Wonwoo says with a sigh. “By the time I figured it out, it was too late.” 

“I hope you know that everything I felt for you was so real, that it’s still real now. It’s just…” you start.

“Not enough?” he finishes and you frown. “It’s okay, I’m not upset. I knew from the start that this was a long shot.” 

“Why did you do it, then?” you ask.

“Because I would have regretted it if I left something unsaid or undone,” he says simply.

“I’m so sorry, Wonwoo,” you say.

“I’m not. I’m thankful we got this chance. Now, I have the closure I needed to actually move on,” he says. 

You’re not sure what else to do, so you just wrap your arms around him. His arms wrap around you without missing a beat and he places a kiss on the top of your head. The two of you stand like that for a few minutes, letting all the feelings wash over you. It’s the next part that’s going to be the scariest.

You haven’t properly talked to Soonyoung since the two of you had phone sex on Christmas Eve. Which is actually on you, at least this time, because he’s been keeping up a relatively steady stream of texts. Asking how the vacation was, how it was to be around your family, even how it was to see your ex. And you haven’t done anything wrong, you know you haven’t, but it still feels like too much to text. It feels like the kind of thing you need to tell him when you’re back in your apartment. Thankfully, you don’t even have to ask if he wants to come by. He knows your schedule, knows how long the drive is, and even assumes you’re tired. Despite that, he asks if he’s okay to come over anyway. He even insists that he just wants to see you, sex can be off the table. (Unless you want to fuck on the kitchen table, because that might be hot, he says.)

He’s at your door in what feels like record time, puffy jacket and beanie covering most of his head and upper body. His arms wrap around you before he even gets through the door or takes off his layers. It feels like he smells your hair when he buries his face there, but you can’t be sure. It’s almost a project to get him to unlatch himself long enough to take off his outer layers and remove his shoes before joining you on the couch. Where he clings to you like the idea of personal space is foreign. It’s more comforting than you’d like to admit. You’re at ease, but your heart is also beating entirely too fast.

“I missed you,” he says softly.

“I missed you, too,” you say back. 

“No, I really missed you. My sister kept asking me the whole time I was there if I was okay,” he admits. He separates a little, but keeps hold of one of your hands. 

You’re not really used to this side of him, haven’t seen him this soft in all the time you’ve known him. “Were you not? You seemed okay in your messages.” 

“I -,” he starts, frowns, and then opens his mouth again. “I was okay, when we were texting. Mostly. But, I guess, I’m just used to you being around. I’m used to sending you something, like something that makes me think of you, and having you answer right away.” 

“You were sending a lot,” you tease lightly.

“I kept wondering,” he starts and shakes his head.

“Wondering what, Soon?” you ask. 

“Do you remember before you left that I said I wanted to talk after the holidays?” he asks and you nod. 

“Of course, I thought about it a lot,” you admit.

“You did?” The surprise is evident on his face and you’re not sure what it means.

“Yeah, there were a lot of times I couldn’t really get it off my mind, honestly,” you share. 

“I figured…well with your ex there and you spending so much time with him,” Soonyoung says.

Your stomach drops a little. “Listen, about that…”

“You don’t have to tell me,” he says, trying to cut you off. It’s your turn to grab his hands, though.

“I do, though. Which is selfish, probably, but I need to tell you for me,” you say.

“You’re getting back together with him,” Soonyoung guesses and his whole body seems to slump. You’re not sure what to make of him caring so much and don’t really want to get your own hopes up.

“No,” you assure him. “No, I think that chapter of my life is over. Seeing him just brought up a lot of unfinished shit. And then with the holidays and the resort. I did…well, we did have sex. Just once, on Christmas.”

Soonyoung nods, but doesn’t seem relieved. “I figured you would, I did basically push you to try other things out. Are you going to see him again now that you’re back here?”

“No,” you say again. “But, I think I want to hear what you were going to say.” 

“I’m not sure now is…” he starts and nearly melts at the look you give him.

“Please,” you say so softly it’s barely audible. 

“I should’ve gone with you when you asked,” he says and that brings you up short. You never dared to hope for that much. “I knew it as soon as you were gone. But, I figured it’d be fine. I’d be right where you left me when you got back. Then, you ran into your ex and you seemed happy for the chance. I thought I’d fucked up and that you’d fall for him again. I considered just showing up. I chickened out, though. I figured if it was supposed to work out, then it would. Part of me even hoped you might fuck him and that you’d realize what it took me just a little too long to realize.”

“And what’s that?” you prompt.

“That I’m ready to give actual commitment a try. That I don’t want to think about sharing you with anyone else,” he says and his voice drops to a whisper. “That I love you.” 

“What did you just say?” you ask. 

He takes a deep breath and meets your eyes. “That I love you. And I’m sorry.” 

You don’t even realize you’re crying until he wipes a tear from your cheek. “I love you, too, you giant idiot. It’s always been you for me. It wasn’t ever going to be my ex. I’m not sorry, though. Everything that we’ve experienced, it’s been exactly what I needed.” 

“You know what this means though, right?” he asks and you shake your head. “No more fucking anyone that’s not me.” 

“We don’t have to…” you start. You don’t want to change him, never have. He’s always been perfect exactly the way he is. 

“I know, but I want to. It’s only you. I think it always has been and you just knew it a lot before I did,” he says.

“Can you just kiss me now?” you ask through your tears. 

When your lips meet, it’s so slow and tender. So full of affection and joy and everything left unsaid. For now, at least. If there’s anything you know about Soonyoung, it’s that he doesn’t like to keep much to himself. It’s been so much, so overwhelming. Even though the kisses are languid, you feel the heat building between the two of you. Feel the desire getting stronger. That’s when he breaks the kiss. Your face must look confused or disappointed because he smiles, so full of genuine affection, and stands up. He holds a hand out to you.

“I don’t want the first time after telling you that I love you to be on your couch,” he says. 

Your smile matches his when you take his hand and interlace your fingers. He brings your hands up to his lips and places a kiss on your knuckles. Doesn’t let go of your hand even when you’re in your bedroom. He sits down on the edge of the bed and pulls you between his legs. It makes you lean down to kiss him, but it’s kind of nice. He finally lets go of your hand so that he can wrap his arms around you instead. When Soonyoung looks up at you, eyes full of affection, it’s just more than you can handle. 

“Please, Soonie,” you whisper.

“What?” he asks.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you request.

“Like what?” he asks.

“Like I’m the only person in the entire world,” you say.

He only smiles at first. “I had a lot of time to think when you were away. I’m just appreciating you now.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assure him.

“I wouldn’t let you.” 

Finally, he pulls you into bed and it’s the most perfect night you’ve ever spent with him. And you’ve had a lot of great nights. He always takes his time with you, always makes sure you’re well taken care of. It’s different now. His lips are everywhere and his hands seem to need to find whatever part of you they can. You’ve never felt so loved and so safe, even with him. Even though he always makes it comfortable. You know that you made the right choice.

(You’re sure when he’s got you seeing stars from his mouth between your legs. You’re sure when he’s sucking marks into your skin where only he can see them. You’re sure when he asks you to tie his hands to the bed. You’re sure when he asks you to untie him so he can fuck you into the mattress. You’re especially sure when he wraps himself around you to fall asleep. It’s everything you’ve wanted, but only because it’s him. It wouldn’t be the same with anyone else.)

Morning comes and everything looks even better in the soft light of a winter’s morning. You’re not sure you’re ever going to get Soonyoung out of your bed (or your apartment) and you’re not really sure you want to. The new year is right around the corner and you can’t wait to see what it brings the both of you.

thanks for coming on this ride with me 💕 please reblog or let me know your thoughts if you liked it!

[ericshoney]

Mini ninja ~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: Your brothers take you to the American Ninja Warrior experience with them.

Warnings: possible swearing, crying, small fear of heights, fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Nick, Matt and Chris organised the idea of doing the America Ninja Warrior experience they didn't originally plan on you tagging along, however after seeing your excitement, they knew they had to bring you along too.

"You think you can beat the course, kid?" Chris asked you, when you all walked in.

"Gonna try!" You exclaimed.

The three laughed and knew you'd try your best, but will probably need their help as you were only seven.

You stood close to your brothers as they filmed a bit and listened to the workers and watched the safety video, you knew Matt would listen the most.

Once the boring bit was over, you all got your special socks on, you instantly running over to the bouncy part. The guys watched you closely whilst having fun too.

"Go on, kid, show them how it's done!" Matt cheered, watching you climb up the soft slide to Nick.

You smiled and ran up the smallest bouncy ramp, Nick grabbing your hands to lift you up. The guys cheered for you as you slid down the slide, a large smile on your face.

You all continued having fun, the guys messing around with the swinging ball, you sitting out of that one to catch your breath and not be knocked out. You also raced against Matt, him letting you have a head start.

Then once you all had a go at all the obstacles, the next challenge was the wall. You stood in front of the smallest one, seeing how high it was.

"Woah." You said.

"You want to give it a go, petal?" Matt asked you.

"I don't know." You replied.

"Come on, we're right here, kid." Chris said.

You nodded and watched as he got up there, along with Matt. Nick stood behind you as you ran up, Chris and Matt pulling you up, but as you stood on top of the wall and looked down, you started to get scared.

"Wanna get down." You said, tears forming in your eyes as you held onto Matt's arm tightly.

"Alright kiddo, we're getting down. It's okay." He said, reassuring you.

Chris climbed down the pole and stood at the bottom. Matt helped you hold onto it as Chris caught you, holding you tightly.

"We're back on the ground now, it's okay." He said softly.

You nodded and sat on the soft part watching them carry on. They made sure you were feeling okay and didn't want you getting upset.

After they had finished, them making you laugh by sliding down the bigger wall, Matt asked one of the workers about slurpies. You felt excited when they said they could get you some.

"Yay!" You cheered, making the guys laugh.

You followed the guys to the counter and looked at all the different flavours. You saw Nick get white cherry as Matt and Chris both got blue ones. You finally pointed out which one you wanted, saying a quiet thank you to Nick as he passed you the sweet drink.

"Thank you for letting me come." You said to the guys.

"Aww sweetheart we'd bring you again. We're so proud of you." Nick said, ruffling your hair.

"Yeah kid, not many seven year olds would take on the America Ninja Warrior challenge." Chris replied.

"We're glad your happy, darling." Matt said.

You smiled wide and hugged your brothers, knowing you'd talk your parents ears off all night long now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist

@onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @mattsfavbigtitties @lgbtq-girl

[slutsareteacherstoo]

I Hope - A Terry Richmond Drabble Part Two

Black Fem! OC - Savannah (dark skinned, curvy, and disabled) x Terry Richmond (Gentle!Terry, Sweet!Terry, Nervous!Terry)

(I gotta get better at these tags, suggestions welcome!)

Summary: Savannah and Terry continue with they left off. But something stops Savannah leaving her unsure if what was supposed to be the perfect night is now ruined.

[PART 1]

Warnings/Things of Note: Slightly NSFW/NSFT (moaning, kissing, nipple play I guess...), fluff and comfort, playful teasing, anxiety, dissociation, mentions of disability, sex and trauma, intense ass eye contact and staring (it might turn into kink if you squint a lil bit), Switch!Terry (not really but we shall see...), people wearing masks (surgical, kn95, n95), shoutout to the library!

Really though, if you dissociate and/or have trouble staying present in your body, for any reason and/or you be feeling things too much and it make you wanna dissociate, proceed with caution. While it's cool to see yourself reflected in writing, it can also be disorienting. So. Before you read. I want you to have some grounding tools near by and take breaks as you need them.

Word count: 3K+ (3,679 WTF?!?!?! YAY ME)

Author's Note: Okay, yall. Here is the second part. This thing is long! I'm typing this in drafts right now on my computer. I have to copy and paste in into docs because I have no clue what the actual word count is (That shit was 10 pages when i pasted it in WORD!)

Thank you sooo sooo much everyone for your support. I'm glad you enjoyed the first part. Highkey...it's giving series cuz the things I imagined>>>> I'm a covid conscious girlie who still be masking outside so it's been a minute for me in this department! Trying to use my imagination and conjure the connections I know people are seeking, navigating the world like I do. So as i use my big brain, it'll pop up in my writing. If you wanna see more, let me know so I can add you to the taglist. I'm not touching this again til November! I got grad school apps to submit!

I hope you enjoy!

I'll give it to you freely

Cause you're so damn worth it

Oh will you still love me

Even when wе're hurting

Even when wе're hurting

As Terry returned to what he and Savannah both realized was her sweet spot, he indulged himself to hear Savannah’s moans over & over; each one differing in pitch and tone. Applying the pressure of his tongue to the spot and up to her earlobe, she made a low moan. And Terry felt as she pulled him closer. The feel of her long nails caressing his shaved head and neck and her sounds were bliss. The apprehension and embarrassment that Savannah had previously felt, were gone now. They were replaced with incessant need, incessant hunger. The need to feel this man on her, with her, inside her —skin under skin. The contact he gave her was none like no other. She let the sounds of pleasure spill from her mouth as Terry obliged her to.

As of this moment, Savannah was tapped into her body. The feeling was overwhelming but it wasn’t too much. When Terry came up for air, he looked into Savannah’s eyes, deep dark brown satellites. They marveled in comparison to how she described his planets. The look on her face was one he’d never seen before but was honored to know he helped put it there. She let out a shaky sigh.

“You’re really good at this sort of thing.”

Terry chuckled with a smirk, “I am.”

At the next thought, Savannah sheepishly smiled and looked away. Terry brought his hand to her chin once again, slightly nudging her to look at him.

“What?” Terry said with a smug ass grin, admiring the woman before him.

Savannah looked down with her eyes and flitted them back to Terry’s.

“I don’t know if I can ask you this.”

“You can ask me anything you want.” Terry slow blinked as he responded to Savannah.

She took his left hand from her chin and placed it on her chest, “Can you touch me here?” Grabbing his other hand, she added “and here?”

Terry said, “I can. What would you like me to do?”

“Whatever you want.” Savannah replied, focusing fully on Terry’s now bright eyes, while she bit her deep, brownish pink bottom lip. Terry took those words and massaged her chest. She was still wearing her black high neck tank top, the opposite to Terry’s gray one. When he squeezed, she let out a hiss. Terry took his thumbs and massaged what he felt were the outline of her nipples. At that, Savannah let out a “fuck”. Terry stopped, looking at Savannah, waiting for her eyes to open. Her dark brown skin was gleaming with the slight sweat she’d worked up.

“I didn’t say stop,” she said lowly, eyes heavy lidded with hunger. And so, Savannah was determined to maintain eye contact with Terry—to eventually be the one to win one of these staring contests. As he flicked his thumb in slow circles over her nipples, Savannah felt herself floating away. The feeling was good. Too good. Maybe too overwhelming. She was getting lost in the feeling. A new one, but overwhelming nonetheless. She was trying to stay here, stay present in this body. Her thoughts were interrupted by Terry squeezing her right shoulder. She blinked and focused back onto the objects inside of the room. The TV atop the dresser and the music sounding from it. The light on across the hall. Her clothes on THEE chair™️, and making them center back on Terry’s face.

Terry had seen Savannah enjoying the feeling, eyes rolling back at the pleasure, excitement and trying to maintain her focus on him. He wasn’t gonna lie. It gave him an ego boost. But then, he saw her eyes go in a slightly different direction. Her voice, her body still responding to his movements but her mind had gone elsewhere. Her eyes had glazed over and it made him stop.

“Savannah,” he squeezed her right shoulder again, “Savannah, baby.”

Her eyes found his again and her face contorted into a frown. You could see the disappointment on her face. Whatever feelings that were coming up for her right now, he wanted to make space for them —to make space for her.

“What is it?” Terry uttered softly.

Savannah shook her head from side to side. She kissed her teeth softly and said, “It was really nice. It felt good. It felt really good.”

Terry nodded wordlessly as he kept his hand on her shoulder, alternating light squeezes while he massaged it.

Savannah continued, “I felt too much. Not that anything you did was bad or wrong. It was perfect actually. Really really perfect.” She wanted to reassure him.

Terry gave her a small smile, “But?” he added.

“I felt it too much. It felt too good. And I think—“ she cut herself off. She thought what? That she couldn’t do this? That this might be harder than she thought it’d be? She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to think or even say or talk about herself as being too much. She’d done so much work already to remove that from her vocabulary, from seeing herself that way.

And Terry never did.

She hoped he wouldn’t now.

“I think that because the feeling—because EYE felt the feelings so intensely, I was so in my body, paying attention to everything. And that was scary. I think I got scared. I think we got scared.” The we in question was her body. The both of them were still navigating this together and it was difficult.

Savannah hadn’t even noticed the single tear that spilled onto her cheek until Terry wiped it away.

It was clear today that she would not be the winner of any of these staring contestants. 

Focusing on Terry and talking about this, made it too difficult. Eyes darting around the room as she talked, mostly because she didn’t want to see him. To see if the look on his face would change at all to pity. She couldn’t bear it. She hoped not.

Terry’s heart broke a little. But he made sure to maintain his steel of softness for Savannah. He didn’t want to speak too soon, speak over her, or imply anything that may not be true. He just wanted her to talk, to tell him what she needed. And he would help her in whatever way he knew how.

“I don’t want you to think,” Savannah said finally braving to make eye contact with Terry. Her nostrils were flaring and she was trying to keep her voice level. She didn’t want it break. But it did. “Less of me.”

At that statement though, Terry had to interrupt.  “I don’t think less of you.” Savannah raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “I don’t,” he doubled down and countered in a firm tone.

Savannah rolled her eyes in exasperation and sighed loudly. Not at Terry. Not even at herself but just at the situation. When Savannah could not find the words to say, Terry decided to speak some more.

“I don’t think less of you. I never could but especially not because of this. You told me that you needed—that we needed to take it slow. Like I said, you are in control.” He took a pause. “ I’m with you because I like you. I like you because of you. This,” he picked up her hands, pointing his chin to their hands and to Savannah. “means something to me. You are important to me.” He squeezed her hands for emphasis.

As he considered his next words, there was  silence between the two of them. Savannah had briefly removed one of her hands and used the bottom of her palm to wipe her eyes. She joined hands with Terry again, as the two lay side to side, knees facing inward. Music was faintly playing in the background. 

It was a simple yet hypnotic melody. In fact, that’s why they’d let it repeat over and over. It was Terry’s choice. And it was definitely going to be up there on his Spotify Wrapped. 

When he first heard it, Savannah had immediately come to his mind. She was definitely special and knew it immediately when he’d come across her. 

—

Savannah was oblivious in her own world when he crossed her path. He was awestruck. 

It was the sound of her voice that piqued his interest first. He heard her before he saw her. After locking his bike out front, he walked through the library’s sliding doors. He’d heard it as the metal song he’d been listening to was fading out. She was at a table explaining something to the group of people in front of her. There was something about her voice that was soothing and captivating. Taking his buds out ear by ear, he was able to hear her voice in its fullness. He didn’t have the first clue about how the nutritional value of frozen fruit and vegetables was just as good as fresh, but he’d listen more to find out. 

Staring in her direction, he was immediately taken by her. She’d been wearing a bright pink bandana over her hair put in a thick low puff. Clear, purple glasses over deep, dark brown cat eyes, lined in black. Thin, oversized hoops framed her face. The rest of it he couldn’t see because she was wearing mask. It was a white one with blue straps. It made him scrunch his face in curiosity, especially because most of the library patrons he could see weren’t wearing any. He’d done a quick ocular scan of the space from periphery to main fields of vision. Yup. He’d spotted maybe 4 or 5 people outside the seated group wearing a mask at all. Some wore thin, black and light blue ones. Others wore more sturdy-looking ones? People had them the in different colors—white, black, pink green. He wasn’t wearing one either. But no mind that, he wanted to hear more of what she had to say. 

She was wearing an orange crochet cardigan with a white ribbed shirt. The shirt was stretched over her large chest and tucked into black stretchy yoga pants. 

The thick waistband outlined the roundness of her soft belly. They hugged her wide-set hips that framed her full thighs.  The rest of the material flared out at her knees, covering her white and light brown running shoes.

It was at the appraisal of her lower half that made Terry let out what he thought was a mental, “Damn,” and considered what behind might look like. He realized that was not the case when the library worker at the front desk cleared their throat loud enough for Terry to hear and get the hint. He whipped his head in their direction, smiling apologetically and nervously with wide eyes and thin lips. He was being a man, in a way he was NOT proud of right now.

“Sorry about that. Is there a place I can charge my phone?” he asked while adjusting his backpack.

The worker pointed in the opposite direction of Savannah and her group. The worker was wearing a thin, black mask so he couldn’t see the bottom half of their face. But the expression in their eyes made it clear he needed to keep it pushing and do so expeditiously. He thanked them and made his way to get some juice for his phone.

—

Lizzie’s voice was crooning on the song’s fourth verse, fading out the memory 

I'll give it to you freely

Cause you're so damn worth it

Oh will you still love me

Even when wе're hurting

Even when wе're hurting

“You are important to me,” he repeated “I’m not going to say that I don’t care about it. Because it wouldn’t be true. I care about whatever affects you, however it affects you.” He was looking down at her, the pair’s eyes a perfect match of earth, water and soil. Her eyes didn’t leave his this time, despite the silly face Terry made to break the tension in the room.

Savannah laughed and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was getting better at keeping up with him. Maybe one day she would win one of these staring contests, he pretended not to know about. Attagirl.

“You can take however long you and your body need to adjust, to get back into it.  Take your time, baby.” he rested his forehead against hers, rubbing his thumb at her cheek “The loving ain’t going nowhere.” he said with wide grin, while Savannah let out a short, spluttering laugh. 

“Okay, Mary J Blige,” she said shaking her head and rolling her eyes upward, staring at no place in particular.

“I got you,” Terry said booping Savannah’s nose.

“You got what?” she said with in an incredulous look on his face

“You,” he emphasized, “You can’t keep eyes on me.”

Savannah waved his hand from her face, the gold, medical bracelet glinting in the light. “Boy, bye.” She twisted at her waist to reach for her glasses on the nightstand. When she faced Terry again he was supporting himself up with his left hand, while his right one propped his head. Terry was staring at her as if he were enchanted. He’d always stare at her like that. And Savannah couldn’t believe that he still was, especially after how tonight went. He was making her feel all self-conscious and shit. Damn him and his fuck ass, color-changing eyes.

“What?” Terry said softly, cutting off her thoughts

“Fuck you and your fucking eyes”, Savannah playful shoved his shoulder.

“Why you say fuck me for?” Terry said aloud after letting out a laughter of shock, thick eyebrows raised and eyes widened.

“Because!” Savannah retorted, mirroring Terry’s expression and previous tone.

“Because what?” Terry said now in a softer tone, while squinting at her. He’d reached out for her hand again without looking. She accepted it and Terry interlocked his fingers with hers. It made Savannah smile, clearly showing because her eyes never left his.

This man was gonna be her undoing, she was sure of it. And he was sure she’d be his.

“So,” Savannah paused, while she focused on the feeling of the small circles Terry rubbed on the back of her clasped hand. “I didn’t ruin tonight?” she asked, avoiding Terry’s original question. Her left arm was bent at the elbow on her pillows, mirroring Terry while he was now lower than her. She felt Terry shift and then his hand on her knee. He slightly dipped his head, green-gray eyes asking for permission. Savannah nodded her head yes, and she felt Terry gently grab the back of her right knee, pulling it closer to him. Savannah loved the way the skin his rough textured palm felt against the soft smoothness of her legs. And Terry couldn’t get over how soft and delicate her skin was. Especially when he grazed her sides, feeling her rolls and ripples. It was supple and satin-like. He was grateful for the privilege he was allowed in getting to touch her. In allowing him to do anything with her. He’d do anything she’d ask in return.

“You did not,” Terry said. “I got to spend time with you. I got feel and caress you.” He demonstrated by caressing the back of her thigh. “I got to learn more about the sounds you make when you’re really feeling good ,” he said wiggling his eyebrows. Savannah scoffed and rolled her eyes.

Terry kissed his teeth, holding in his smirk. “See, there you go again.” he said in a light teasing tone. It was Savannah’s turn to kiss her teeth.

“Ok, but to be fair, today should NOT be counted!” She butted in holding a pointed finger upward

“Nigga, nobody is counting!” Terry laughed out. 

“What do you mean, nobody’s counting? YOU JUST TOLD ME YOU ARE!” she exclaimed in shock and amusement. She wasn’t upset or angry. She felt…vindicated. Vindicated at the fact this mf WAS doing this shit on purpose! Ooh, Terry. When you I catch you, Terry! When I catch you Terry!

Now, Terry didn’t wanna look Savannah in her eyes. He was being shy and evasive and shit. Looking around the room, now that she found him out. He could feel the heat rising to cheeks. Not him blushing over this. Savannah lightly tugged his chin upward towards her.

“Nah, pretty boy. Eyes up here. This is what you wanted right?” Savannah had said, genuinely teasing him. He knew she didn’t mean anything else behind those words, just getting him back for the sake of getting him back. But the way she said them, while grabbing his chin made him feel something. He’d have to return to that thought another time. The firm squeeze she added, and the pressure from the tips of her naturally long nails, to grab his attention again didn’t help.

Savannah was looking at him expectedly, one eyebrow arched with lips slightly parted.

“I mean…” Terry trailed off. He did love staring at her. Yeah, he got a thrill from how any look he gave her she had a reaction to. But it really was her eyes that captivated him. Her eyes were a deep dark brown, iris and pupil ringed in black. They were a cat-like almond shape. Sharp and alluring without meaning too. When she lined them with different colors, it only made them more striking. He could help but admire them and admire her, like one would the moon. Intrinsically and reverently.

“…you got some nice ass eyes. Be distracting a nigga and shit.” Terry chuckled trying not to be the chalant nigga he very much was and Savannah let out a low cackle.

“Heh, hey.” she took that moment to clap her hands slowly, alternating her hands so that palms touched fingertips and fingertips touched palms. Swiping away some of the doubt and insecurity in her head. It made her get a big one.

Whew! Savannah didn’t know she’d be able to relate to Victoria Monét when she sang it, but making niggas feel a way is a forté really. Well, shit. She wasn’t gonna feel guilty about using his face and his eyes as the last thing she’d sense in her grounding practice anymore. And, she was making him fold like he made her fold? Nah, the game was on. She was committed to winning a few of these stare-downs and she was gonna come out on top, one way or another.

“Anyways, back to what you were saying much earlier.” Savannah ushered him to continue after they’d gotten hella distracted and off course. She appreciated the levity Terry added to the moment for her sake. But Savannah really did need to know that she didn’t ruin tonight and that she shouldn’t feel bad when they woke up tomorrow. She wasn’t in love him yet, but she needed to know, that if it happened —when it happened, a voice in her head said—That he would validate and reassure her when this would come up again. Because it would. Come up again. 

“Like I was saying,” Terry extended the first syllable of the last word for exaggerated effect. It earned him a giggle. “We got to pause and ground together, when we both needed it.” Savannah gave him a slight eyebrow raise. 

Terry began to rub at the back of his neck when he admitted, “I read online that light yet firm pressure could be helpful in helping a partner stay present.” Savannah’s face softened in surprise and endearment. Oh shit! Not him doing self-directed research!

So that’s why he was doing those squeezes and circles!

He continued hesitantly, “Yeah. I was just looking up different articles, going to different websites and other people’s accounts and stuff talking about disability, sex and trauma, you know. I just wanted to make sure I could help you feel as comfortable as possible. And you know, I got kinda nervous too cuz i was like, ‘I don’t know if Im fucking up or doing too much’ so I was stopping when I needed to too.” Terry was rambling nervously and it was so cute and sweet. She couldn’t believe he did that for her. And also that what he found helped him too.

“But yeah, nothing was ruined. I got to be here with you. And see what it was like when you start floating away,” he ended in a singysong way, wiggling his fingers for emphasis looking nowhere in particular.

Terry made sure to snap his head back to Savannah’s. He reached up for her face, his thumb slowly moving up and near her chin and lips. At that, she took a hand and draped it behind Terry’s neck. She used her nails to make slow, stroking movements at the across the length of his neck. She wanted to make sure she heard what Terry was saying.

“But I want you know, that I’ll be right here with you on earth. No matter where you go, wherever you go.” Terry stated firmly. He had an earnest look in his eyes. His, tinged with grey among blue-green ocean waves, moving in sync with hers, being compelled by the draw of her deep brown moons shining with black rings. The tides of feeling and connection present between the two were unmistakable. Undeniable.

Savannah knew that he meant every word. 

And it was scary as hell. 

She hadn’t had someone feel so sure about her in this way, in a long time.

But she wanted to see it through anyways, whatever this would become with time. She hadn’t told him everything, just enough to be in the know. And he took that information and built on it. For them. For her.

Savannah slightly lowered her head towards Terry, hovering her lips right over his. Her chain dangling over his.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his lips. 

“Nothing is ever too much for you,” he whispered back.

And so the tides crashed, leading their lips to softly touch together. Melting with the hopes for the future and the celestial of their current now.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note Pt 2: Comments, questions and suggestions are so welcome (please be nice to me tho 🥺 👉🏿 👈🏿) I did try to revise this one and edit it for real for real. If there are any errors let me know.

If you're wondering how he got Savannah out that mask...you gotta keep reading. If you wanna be added to the taglist without getting all my other NSFW reblogs, please lemme know in the replies.

Also I hope that those of you who needed to or still need to take some breaks and do some grounding cuz reading may have been a lot, please do that. Slowly blink your eyes open and close. Stretch your fingers, wrists, arms, and neck. Hell, your whole body. Drink some water. Grab a snack. Put on a mood uplifting song. <3

Also if you somebody like me, who still be masking when they be outside, im writing this for you extra!

For anyone who need it, let this work be a manifestation for the dynamics you desire, that are aligned with you in all ways, with no doubts or questions. May the Divine deliver and you recognize them upon arrival. You got this, boo! 😉

Okay thank you for coming to my TED Talk 🥰 See y'all on the dash

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg | divider by @jiyascepter

Through The Years

Jotun!King!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Æsir!Queen!Reader

Summary: This story takes you and Loki on a journey through the twins life. From their first steps all the way to their first time falling in love.

Warnings for this Chapter: fluff, father-son moments

Word Count: 413

a/n: I finally managed to post the epilogue - yay! I'm SO sorry it took me this long... I love this Universe - this series with all my heart. Thank you all for joining the ride! I sincerly hope you enjoyed it. 🤗

❄️ Chapter Six ❄️

Ice Flower AU Masterlist ❄ Loki Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

Epilogue

The landscape of Jotunheim extended to the feet of the high cliff. It was winter and therefore was everything covered in a thick blanket of snow and ice. It was bitterly cold today, but the sky was clear. A rare thing to happen in the harsh winters of Jotunheim.

On top of the cliff was standing Loki; wrapped up in the warmest furs. He gazed down on his home. He loved this place and often went here. A lot of memories were made on this cliff... With his father. With you. With his sons - who were approaching him. Steps could be heard in the crunching snow, as the twins came to stand beside him. "Dad..." Váli said, looking at him with concern. "Is everything alright?" Continued Áki. Loki smiled, nodding. "Oh, for sure." "Why did you want to meet us here then?" Loki teared his gaze away from the landscape and looked at Váli. "Because this place holds so many memories..." He then looked over at Áki. "And I wanted to add a new one."

Both men smiled; stepping closer and following their father's gaze. Loki placed his hands on one shoulder of each son. "Your grandfather took me here often and showed me what was ours. Told me stories about our home. About the cliffs and fields. About the Jotuns - and about the palace. One day, he brought me up here and showed me what was mine..." He squeezed their shoulders. "Today, I'm bringing you up here, to show you what is yours." Both, Váli and Áki swallowed at their dad's words.

Loki turned to face Váli again. "You are king now, son. You are ruling over the realm and leading all its people. And I know you are going to be a great king. Perhaps even a better one than I was. You are kind, wise and strong. Keep that up." With a smile, Loki turned to face Áki. "And you, son, are the leader of our army - and first advisor of the king. You are going to protect whole Jotunheim and stand by your brother's side. I couldn't image a better leader. You have your heart in the right place."

Once again, he gave their shoulders a squeeze and returned his gaze on the beautiful landscape ahead. "Whatever is going to happen in the future... To me, to your mother - or even to your husband and wife. I want you to always remember this place... Home."

Tags: @eleniblue @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @multifandom-worlds @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @fictive-sl0th @lokisgoodgirl @smolvenger @hisredheadedgoddess28 @icytrickster17 @chennqingg @glitchquake @princess-ofthe-pages @crimson25 @elegantcheesecakecrown @buttercupcookies-blog @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @herdetectivetheorist @loz-3 @brokenpoetliz @km-ffluv @stupidthoughtsinwriting @jennyggggrrr @lady-rose-moon @lovingchoices14 @salvinaa @irishhappiness @sheris532 @princessdragon23 @xxannyxx @kimanne723 @mandywholock1980 @the-holy-trinity-l @loki-laufeyson223 @vbecker10

[mimsynims]

Fool For Love

part 6

~~~

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

~~~

Author's Note: Sorry it took longer than usual! The first bit I wrote was shorter than I wanted, so I kept writing - and now you'll get more than usual instead haha... (Sorry not sorry about sneaking in a bit of a side ship I have, but it fit in this part and I want Karlach to have her hot blacksmith - yay HeartForge!)

Thank you for the comments! <3

Oh, and as I think I mentioned before, this will of course stray from canon but I have and will use things that actually happen in the game too (act 1/2), just FYI.

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, minor Karlach/Dammon, eventual happy ending

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn't have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only... now you do. And you're not handling it very well, making a rash decision you will regret. Is there a way to undo it?

~~~

It’s eerily quiet when you get back to camp. Not that you expected your friends to still be awake, but the silence feels ominous.

Or perhaps it’s just your guilt making it seem that way.

You’re not sure breaking things off was the wrong decision — the jury is still out on that — but you regret how it happened. Regret being so harsh.

Regret not waiting until morning to have the conversation.

A noise coming from the direction of Gale’s tent snaps you out of your musings. Your body tenses up, readying for battle. Scanning the area, your hand drifts down towards a weapon that isn’t there. You must have dropped it sometime during… during. It aches thinking back and you can’t bring yourself to go back. Not now, anyway. 

You spot a flash of purple and instantly relax. Gale must be awake still. 

Perhaps the gods decided to be lenient after the night you had, giving you the opportunity to stomp out at least one fire you’ve accidentally started before it becomes an uncontrollable inferno.

“Still up, Gale?”

“Tav!” He smiles. “Yes, but I was about to tuck in for the night too.”

His eyes roam over you, but if he suspects what you and Astarion were up to after he and the others left, he doesn’t mention it.

“So, Gale…” You clear your throat. “I actually came over to apologise.”

“Apologise?” He sounds genuinely surprised. “Whatever for?”

“I think I might’ve given you the impression that I’m interested in more than friendship. And that was careless of me.” And apparently, you’re too much of a coward to admit that you used him. “I’m sorry.”

Gale takes a moment before he answers. “You were careless, yes. But I think I may have an inkling as to why.”

“Ah.” Of course he does. “For the record, the circumstances surrounding that… reason, have changed, one might say.” Because you were acting without thought, yet again. “Which doesn’t affect things between us — you and me, I mean. I value our friendship dearly, but–”

“Tav.” Gale holds up a hand to stop you. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

He sounds sincere, and searching his face, you find nothing to suggest otherwise. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, I did have a really nice time tonight.”

“Good. Me too.” A half-smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I can’t pretend I wasn’t disappointed when you invited the others, but in retrospect, I think you did the right thing.”

“You’re a good man, Gale.” A hug seems inappropriate, so you place a hand on his arm instead. “I’m sure someone better and kinder than me is waiting somewhere out there for you.”

His smile turns wry. “And I’m sure you and your ‘reason’ can sort things out once you both stop being stubborn arses.”

It’s probably because you’re still a bit drunk and in need of sleep, but you can’t stop yourself from bursting out laughing. “I think we would need a miracle for that.” Gale isn’t wrong, both you and Astarion are often too stubborn for your own good.

You expect Gale to at least chuckle, but instead, his expression softens. “It seems a miracle we’re all still alive, so who’s to say we can’t have another?”

He sounds so serious you stop laughing just as abruptly as you started. The hurt from before resurfaces, because there’s a bigger obstacle than stubbornness in your way. “I think I would need more than one miracle to accomplish what you’re talking about, and I doubt that I’m that lucky.”

Because even if you would talk, he still doesn’t love you, and in your current miserable state, you doubt that he ever will. To your dismay, you feel tears threatening to spill. Perhaps you should’ve waited until tomorrow to talk to Gale, after all.

Gale comes closer and puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it, sympathy plain on his face. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

This conversation has taken a turn you don’t want to face right now — and with Gale, of all people — so you just nod.

“Thank you for your honesty, Tav. Now off to bed with you.” Taking a step back, Gale lets his hand drop, Gale. “We both need all the sleep we can get, I think.”

“We do, yes.” You turn to leave but not before giving him another smile. “Thank you, Gale.” You don’t elaborate, but you can tell that you don’t have to as he bows his head in understanding.

“Goodnight, Tav. Sleep well.”

“You too, goodnight.”

As you walk over to your tent to change before going to bed, you think you see movement in the corner of your eye, but when you turn your head to look, there’s nothing there.

“And now you’re imagining things,” you mutter to yourself. “No more alcohol for you until we’re somewhere safe.”

Whenever that may be.

The following days go by in a whirlwind of events, and even if you somehow would have plucked up the nerve to talk to Astarion, you never get the chance. 

First, it was Elminster showing up to talk to Gale. You’re still not convinced it was a good idea to let him into your camp — most likely not, considering the message he was here to deliver.

You know you probably should’ve waited to let Gale have the time to process, but he insisted you press on and next thing you knew, your party was in the Shadowlands, facing goblins and driders and Harpers.

And Jaheira.

Astarion has been ignoring you as much as he can since the night, but you could sense his approval when you refused to drink the wine Jaheira offered you. Perhaps you can mend things between the two of you, in time. You desperately hope so, because a part of you already misses the chats. His embrace. The connection.

Last Light Inn turns out to be a place with many familiar faces, but after the long day you’ve all had, you decide to rest before reacquainting yourself with everyone — with one exception. 

To your — and Karlach’s — delight, you find Dammon in the stables outside the inn building.

You hide a smile when Dammon lights up at the sight of the Karlach. He may be greeting all of you, but his eyes rarely leave the Tiefling, even when he talks to you and the others. It soothes your aching heart to know that things might work out for at least one of you, even if your own love life seems doomed.

Somewhere along the way, she’s become one of your best friends. She deserves nothing but happiness, and it feels like she’s one step closer when Dammon tells her that he can craft an insulating chamber for the infernal engine. It’s not a permanent solution, but it’s enough, for now, to finally allow her to touch people again.

You stand back as Karlach instals the chamber; Dammon looks at her so intently it almost feels like you’re intruding.

The chamber clicks into place.

“Go on,” Dammon says, lifting a hand. “Give us your hand.”

Circumstances aside, it’s a lovely moment, watching the two of them.

“Damn. I’m good.” Dammon laces their fingers for the briefest of moments. “And you — you’re very touchable.”

They’re both so adorable you wish you could grab the others and leave these two be. And perhaps you also wish that this could be you and a certain vampire that is currently looking everywhere but at you.

Letting go of Dammon, Karlach turns to you with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen from her yet.

“Tav! I can touch you now!”

“I’m so happy for you, Karlach! May I hug you?”

“Yes.” Her smile wavers with emotion. “Please.”

Her skin is hot against yours but it’s not unbearable, so you wrap your arms tight around her, glad to finally be able to hug your friend.

“Thank you.” She sounds close to tears. “Talk more back at camp, yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Karlach? I need to explain the bad news too.”

You can feel a hitch in her movements and when she pulls back, her smile is strained.

She listens to what Dammon has to say, but you’re not sure she fully accepts it. You decide to leave it, for now, not wanting to dim her joy more than necessary.

Back at camp, Karlach keeps touching everyone here and there — even a moody Lae’zel accepts it, albeit reluctantly — and her happiness seems to lift the spirit of the others, too.

When everything calms down for the night, you seek her out. You can feel Astarion’s eyes on you, and in a moment of bravery, you decide you’ll talk to him after you’ve spoken to Karlach.

“Karlach? May I come in?”

“Of course! You’re always welcome into my tent, Tav.” She’s ever-moving, still brimming with energy. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine.” You decide to get right to the point. “I’m actually here to talk about you.”

“About me?”

“It was impossible not to notice the chemistry between Dammon and you today. With everything that’s happened, and considering what the future seems to hold for us… I think you should seize the moment. Go and find him. Be happy, while we still have time.”

Karlach stops to look at you, uncertain. “You think he would want that?”

“I do. He looked just as smitten as you clearly are.” 

“He did, didn’t he?” Her expression turns a bit bashful. “I didn’t just imagine it?”

“No, definitely not. And we won’t be rushing out of here just yet, so if you find yourself inclined to spend the night with him…”

“Tav!”

You shrug, holding back a grin. “I’m just saying.”

“Right.” She nods to herself. “You’re right. I should go right now, shouldn’t I?”

“Yes. Go, shoo.”

She laughs. “So eager to get rid of me. Planning to seduce someone yourself, Tav? I’ve seen your looks towards a certain someone.”

You don’t bother holding back the curse as you both leave her tent. “Am I that obvious?”

“Yeaaah. But it’s fine, and I’m rooting for you.”

You look around, searching for the man in question. “Does that mean that everyone…?”

“Think so, yeah.”

“Fuck. Double fuck.” So everyone knows. And Astarion is nowhere to be found. Again. “He’s not here.”

“Wanna tag along to the Inn? Perhaps he’s there?”

You’re not sure you’ll be able to approach him if he’s there but not alone, but then again, there’s probably no use waiting in camp either. “Yes, why not?”

You tell yourself that if he’s not there, you’ll drink one beer — because gods know you need it — and then you’ll head back. It’s been a long day, and even with everything buzzing around in your mind like a swarm of hornets, you’ll probably have no trouble falling asleep the moment your head hits your bedroll.

It turns out that Karlach is right, Astarion is there. You spot him right away, sitting on a barstool, a goblet of wine in his hand. But he’s not alone. He’s sitting very, very close to someone. You can’t see their face, but the way Astarion holds himself, the way he moves his hand to touch their shoulder…

It seems he has found someone else to spend the night with.

As is his right, but the pain is more than you can handle. You won’t stop him, but it’s impossible to stay and watch it happen. The jealousy would break you. As unluck would have it, Astarion chooses that moment to glance over his shoulder, and before you have time to react, he sees you.

Leave. You have to leave. You spin around and flee through the door, almost bumping into one of the Harpers. You’re making a fool of yourself, but you’d rather have that than seeing a smug expression on Astarion’s face.

Half-running towards camp, you decide it’s time to get over yourself. Astarion clearly has moved on — and so should you.

~~~