#these are like completely and totally official

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 93 (Finally Coming Clean)

When Conrad arrived home on Friday night, Ash was in the city. He took a shower, joining Heather in the kitchen while she cooked dinner and talked about Ray Pierce, the Landgraabs' driver who she'd met that afternoon. "He seems as nice as Ash says. It's just annoying I had to find out about him from my son and not his father."

Conrad didn't say much; he couldn't exactly chastise Malcolm for keeping secrets from her. Lavender was awake and Conrad practiced sitting with her for a while, putting her to bed as the scent of chicken stir-fry wafted up the stairs.

He went to the kitchen, smiling at the setup of food and candles at their dining table. "You didn't have to do all this." He kissed her cheek. "What's the occasion?"

"The occasion is, I love you. I just wanted to take away a little stress from your day."

He frowned, and his hands went limp around her waist. "Heather, I need to tell you something. The case I told you about that's been driving me crazy...I backed out of it yesterday morning."

She looked at him, confused. "Maybe that's for the best. But it's not like you to give up on a case."

"I had to let this one go. It was kind of...it wasn't an official case. I've been looking for someone off the books for close to six months."

"Why? Is it someone you know?"

He nodded, and she followed him to sit across from him at the kitchen table. "There's so much about my past I haven't been able to tell you. I should have said something long before I moved in, but I'd convinced myself it was totally in my past and would never be an issue."

"What is it?"

"Do you remember that woman who was looking in our windows when you were pregnant? I wasn't sure at the time, but I got the cameras as a precaution, regardless. She started texting me after Lavender was born."

"Who is she?"

He took a deep breath. "She's my ex."

"Conrad, what does she want?"

"Me. She only wants me. But she can't have me so she's..."

"Is she dangerous? Is this the college girlfriend who cheated on you and broke your heart?"

"Same one. Her name's Ximena Bonilla and she's a little...erratic. But she might not be as dangerous as the people she associates with."

"Who does she associate with?"

"Selvadoradian cartels. She's a drug dealer."

The shock and confusion on Heather's face turned to anger. "How do you know her?"

"I met her when I was in college. She said she was a student and convinced me for almost a year. She was raising her kid brother, Rafa, by herself and escaped being trafficked by the cartel by running drugs for them instead. When I found out the students were her customers, I should have broken up with her. But I was in love and I wanted to keep her safe. I didn't leave. I got deep enough that I met some of her bosses and knew about some of their operations, but she cheated on me and it broke the spell. I finally left her, but one of their ops went bad and one of the guys they picked up gave my name to San Myshuno PD."

"Conrad, you don't have a criminal record. I looked you up after we started dating."

"You hacked the police database, too?"

"No...I did a public records search after River made a joke about a hacker and a criminal."

"To this day, I don't know how my father did it. My file's locked under clearance even I don't have, same as anyone else on the force with a past, but Landgraab Security's always had contacts at San Myshuno PD. He pulled enough strings to wipe my record clean and transfer me into the academy. I had to give them a couple names in exchange - street dealers, local guys. No one that would really upset the cartel. But the force had to look like they were managing crime in their city, and that's the only reason I became a cop and not a complete screw up."

"Is the cartel after you? Or just your ex? Did you give them her name?"

"I never gave them her name. I couldn't, because I didn't know what would happen to her little brother if I did. She tried to get me back after I left, but I knew it could never work out. When Gord was still a puppy, she cornered us outside my apartment to get my attention when I brought home another girl. I got a restraining order, but when it expired and she stayed away, I thought she was finally gone for good."

"So why is she back?"

"She asked for my help to find her brother."

"Is her brother even missing?"

"He is missing. He's wanted by San Myshuno PD. I wanted to help him before he was arrested and sent to prison."

"But you were looking for him under the table, as a favour to your ex who sounds obsessed with you? No wonder Gord hasn't left us alone since Lavender was born. He always knew what was going on with you, didn't he? And you never thought to mention any of this to me?"

"Heather, I wanted to, I-"

"Were you going to help this guy avoid prison? How? Criminal connections?"

"Nothing like that. I was hoping to be able to talk to him, encourage him to go back to finish high school, find a solid job, and maybe convince a judge to go easier on him. I really thought I'd be able to find him in a few weeks, maybe a couple months, and we could all move on again. But uncovering leads has been impossible, and his sister's not a reliable source. I'd even started a file on Ximena because I thought once I found her brother I could finally get around to what I should have done more than once and turned her in. But I could see what searching for Rafa and keeping it from everyone was doing to me, so I finally told her yesterday I was done."

"You've been in regular contact with your ex and didn't tell me? And not because there's something between you but because she's dangerous? Conrad, that's worse."

He nodded. "I know it is. I know how not saying anything makes it look, but I'm so ashamed of that chapter of my life. My bad decisions killed my father. After he got me into the academy, his heart got weak. Two heart attacks, and he died within months. As long as I live, I'll know the stress I put him under was the cause."

She was quiet, nervously playing with her food. Neither was hungry anymore. "You should have told me this."

"I'm so sorry. The longer I kept it from you, the more I feared telling you too late to deserve understanding. I love you so much, and I never wanted to do anything to lose you."

They were interrupted when Conrad's phone started beeping. This time, it was work, but he read the dispatch and his stomach dropped.

The phone shook in his trembling hand and Heather stood. "Conrad, what is it?"

"There's a dead body at the pier. I've got to go back to work." A bone-chilling shiver ran down his spine. His heartbeat quickened, as though he knew what he'd find when he reached Fisherman's Wharf. "I'm so sorry, Heather. I want to keep talking about this, but I can't."

She nodded. "I understand."

A pit formed in his stomach. "Will you do me a favour? I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but will you leave for your parents' place in Henford tonight? Don't wait until morning. I'll probably be working all night and I'd rather know you're safe outside of town."

She uncrossed her arms in shock. "Do you think your ex is involved with the body at the pier? Is that why you want us to leave? Lavender's sound asleep already, but you want me to wake her and take her an hour on the Simmerloop when you invested in those security cameras?"

"Heather, please," he begged, reaching for her hand across the table. "If she's anywhere near Brindleton Bay right now, I can't focus on work if I'm worried about the two of you."

Heather looked at him with sad eyes as their fingers brushed against the wood-top table. Betrayal was written all over her face, but she nodded toward the uneaten food and pulled her hand away. "I'll pack this up in the fridge and then I'll take her. Do you think you'll make it to Henford at all this weekend?"

"Heather, I don't know. I hope so. But I can pack this up before I go. Thank you for cooking. I'm sorry we couldn't enjoy it."

"Me too," she snipped. "Good luck. Be careful."

Heather couldn't look at him and Conrad wouldn't press her. As much as he wanted to run after her and beg forgiveness, a deadly crime scene called him to the pier. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: Heather doing a semi-romantic dinner setup wasn't a flirty gesture, but she has the caregiver personality type. I can't remember if this is from a mod or an EA feature, to tell you the truth. I think it's a mod. Conrad has the jester personality type, which I think suits him, too. Conrad is really responsible and respectful which suit his proper trait (which was learned after younger mistakes), but jesters trend toward mischief/"foolish games" in addition to being jokesters. EDIT: It's WonderfulWhims/WickedWhims that adds this!!

WCIF Poses Used? Dinner Table Talks by @herecirmsims. I don't even mind the clipping because their kitchen table and chairs didn't quite fit the dimensions, because the poses gave me the expressions I wanted. I tried way too long to try to get the teleporters in the middle of the chairs, but I got close enough for me. Just ignore the fact that their chests were in their stir-fry for 90 per cent of that convo! Thank you so much for creating and sharing! 🙏

[bamber344]

Consequences

prev

masterlist

:) sorry not sorry

anyway i said this would be a steve chapter but it turned into an andreas-steve-jordyn type of chapter because i just really like flipping the perspective all the time to be honest, it's like an addiction

enjoy the chapter tho!!!

CWs: living weapon whump, no-holds-barred beatdowns, broken bones, other grievous injuries associated with aforementioned beatdowns, manipulation, panic attacks, hospitals

Consequences

Andreas stepped out of the elevator into the surveillance room hoping to find someone to mark down G-7’s training results for the day, but was displeased to find it entirely unmanned. What was even worse was the fact that the elevator camera seemed to be switched off. Someone around here was getting a warning, that was for sure.

The door to the subject development room opened and Cheryl stepped out. She smiled at him once she noticed his presence.

“Oh, Andreas! Good to see you!” she greeted.

“Who was on shift to man the surveillance desk?” he asked, putting a stern lilt into his voice.

Cheryl glanced at the chair and seemed to only just now notice that it was empty. “Oh. Arthur said he would look after things. Where did he go?”

Andreas frowned. “Who the hell is Arthur?”

Cheryl blinked at him. “Uh, the new guy…? I ran into him on the elevator down here.”

Cold dread settled into Andreas’ gut. He powered towards the surveillance desk, sitting down and waking up the computer. “What did he look like?”

“Um, white, mid to late forties, brown hair sort of medium length, I guess? Kinda shaggy, in any case. He had a bit of stubble and a moustache, and some freckles on his nose. Why, what’s wrong?”

“I haven’t hired anyone new in almost a year. He was a spy.”

Andreas navigated to the saved surveillance footage as Cheryl freaked out behind him, finding exactly what he feared: everything from the last hour or so had been deleted. The little snake wasn’t totally incompetent, at any rate. It was just unfortunate for him that Andreas already had a good clue as to his identity.

Steven Matthews would regret ever showing his face in Andreas’ precinct.

—

Andreas entered G-7’s quarters without knocking and came across the exact scene he’d been expecting, based on what he’d seen through the cameras. The girl was sprawled out over her bed, half-dressed and completely knocked out. It wasn’t surprising that she was especially fatigued, considering all of the extra training and patrolling she’d been doing to make up for her failure with G-5, and since she’d been forbidden from having dinner tonight, he didn’t doubt that she found sleep a much more enticing option than staying up and enduring her hunger. She looked almost peaceful, in a dishevelled, snoring, drooling-on-the-pillow sort of way, and a small part of Andreas almost felt bad about having to wake her up. Almost.

He kicked the leg of the bed frame, rattling the whole thing. “Wake up, Seven!”

G-7 jerked awake with a yelp, scrambling to her feet and standing at the ready. “Y-yes, sir!”

“Put your armour on. I have a job for you.”

—

Steve rolled his neck and shoulders, trying to work his anxiety out on the elevator ride up to his apartment. He was almost certain no one had been following him back; by all accounts, he should be safe. Still, he just couldn’t get the nagging feeling of oncoming dread out of the pit of his gut.

He sighed and tried to ignore it. The fact of the matter was that there was nothing he could do either way. Whether he was about to release the information he found and save Jordyn from Andreas’ clutches, or wake up in an unmarked grave and slowly asphyxiate tomorrow morning, it was now out of his hands.

Steve exited the elevator and trudged down the hall, fishing his keys out of his pocket. His hand touched the USB as he did so, and he pulled it out along with the keyring. Inside that tiny piece of plastic and circuitry was enough evidence to launch an official investigation on de Vygon and all of his cronies, and rip all of this evil out at the root. Or maybe that was just him being optimistic. Still, it was certainly a good start.

He unlocked his door and stepped into the dark apartment, flicking on the lightswitch.

Nothing happened.

Steve frowned, flipping the switch on and off over and over. Nothing was changing. The lights in the outside hallway were still on, so it wasn’t like there was a blackout. Had the power been cut to his apartment in particular?

The door slammed shut behind him and he whirled around, only to find no one there. His heart leapt into his throat.

Oh. This was how it was going to go, huh? At least he got to enjoy one last drive before it was all over.

Darkness swept over his vision, completely blinding him right as something sunk into his solar plexus hard enough to lift his feet off the floor. Air rushed out of his chest so fast he almost puked. His knees buckled when he hit the ground again, and his attacker was quick to help him down, striking him across the cheekbone and sending him collapsing into a heap.

They didn’t let up, kicking and stomping on him over and over, refusing to stop even when he got his breath back enough to start crying out in pain. Ribs cracked and splintered. His nose was crushed, his lip split. He tried to predict where the boot would come next and protect himself, and only got snapped fingers for the trouble. A particularly bad hit to the head knocked out his hearing, leaving only ringing in its place. 

The attacker changed target, focusing on his legs. By that point, the hits were starting to blur together, only coming into sharp focus when something broke. His left knee was the first to go, followed by whatever his calf bone was called. He was certain that he knew, but the name just wasn’t coming to him. The femur? No, that was the thigh bone. The humerus was an arm bone, that definitely wasn’t it. It started with an F, he was sure. Vivienne would definitely be able to tell him, if she were there. She was smart like that.

Speaking of his femur, that broke too, and Steve screamed so hard he thought he would choke. It would have been a mercy.

Finally, the beating stopped. The ringing quieted down enough for him to hear his surroundings again, and he could just about make out the sound of distressed panting, almost to the point of sobs. Was that him? No, his breaths were coming in raspy and slow. 

“I’m… s-so sorry,” said a broken, electronic voice.

Huh. That was weird. Steve passed out.

—

Steve Matthews’ twitching, rasping body laid at my feet. His chest continued to rise and fall, and an occasional spasm rocked through his limbs. He wasn’t dead just yet. Thank god.

I still didn’t understand why I had to just… do that. Steve was one of the good guys, right? He was a police officer, working to catch criminals, and yet… Father wanted him ‘dealt with,’ as he put it. He wanted him beaten within an inch of his life. He wanted his legs broken so bad he would never walk straight again. I couldn’t bring myself to go all the way on that one. The screaming from one leg was bad enough. God, I wanted to throw up. But my job wasn’t done.

I clenched my fists, trying to get my breathing under control. I still needed to search him and seize any of the things he had on him when he arrived back. Just… get it done. If I did a good job, maybe Father would feel inclined to reward me, or at the very least, cut back on my extra training and patrol hours. What I wouldn’t do to be allowed another few hours of rest a day. My ribs still ached with every breath, and all I wanted was for it to just stop.

As carefully as possible, I patted him down, removing his phone, wallet, and keys from his person. In his hand was a small plastic… something. I grabbed that, too, just to be safe. Time to make my exit.

Limbs shaking, breath still coming in quick gasps, I made my way towards the window and slipped out the same way I entered, making sure I closed it behind me. Sirens echoed through the distance, no doubt on their way to my location. Steve’s neighbours surely must have heard all the screaming. I just hoped they got to him in time to save him.

Somehow, it only occurred to me then, in the cool light of the moon on the long run back to the facility, exactly what I’d just done. I just tortured an innocent man. I attacked him in his own home, overpowering him and beating him until he was begging me to stop, and even then I continued. That… that sounded like something a criminal would do. Hell, I’d taken down criminals for similar crimes before. How could Father order me to do something like that?

He was Vivienne’s uncle. How was I supposed to face her again after what I’d just done? She was one of the only people who’d ever made me feel safe in her presence, and I just broke her uncle. Why did he make me do it?

I tripped over my own feet right at the edge of a rooftop, tumbling into the alley below and hitting the rail of every fire escape on my way down, crashing into a pile of garbage bags. The fall barely even registered through the ringing in my ears and the pain in my chest. I felt like I could barely breathe, every gasp for air choked off and denied by the stifling prison of my helmet. I clawed at it, finally tripping the latch at the back of my head and tearing it off. Humid night air hit me like a train, and for a second it felt like I could breathe again, but the ache didn’t cease, and the world continued to spin wildly around me. All I could do was lay there, staring up at the sky and contemplating what I’d just done while trying to remember how to push oxygen in and out of my body.

I supposed this was just another one of those things I was too stupid to understand. I wasn’t smart like Father and the scientists. I barely knew how to shovel food into my face without making a mess, let alone comprehend the complexities of crime. If Father ordered me to do it, Steve must have done something truly horrible. He must have. That was the only explanation. I just… needed to stop thinking about it. I would never truly understand it anyway.

Don’t stop asking questions. Don’t take anything at face value. Andreas is gonna try every trick in the book to make you feel like you’re too stupid to understand anything, so why even bother wondering? Don’t let him. You’re smart, Jordyn.

Maggie’s words echoed through my head. Back when I heard them, part of me was tempted to disregard them; just because she was my sister didn’t mean that she really knew me. She didn’t know how stupid I really was. Now, though… I just couldn’t let my actions sit on my conscience. I refused to accept the answer of ‘Father knows best.’ I needed an explanation for what I just did.

But… How the hell was I supposed to get one? Father would break me just as bad as I just broke Steve if I kept talking back like the idiot I am. Was I just supposed to ignore it and pretend everything was okay? How was I supposed to keep going on like this?

It just… felt so hopeless.

There was a bit of time before Father was expecting me back. Not long enough to let everything out, but it would have to do.

I squeezed my eyes shut and started to cry.

—

The walk back to the facility felt like it took ages, and yet at the same time, it was over in the blink of an eye. Before I knew it I was slipping through those doors, scanning my palm against the card reader, and heading down the elevator back home. I couldn’t decide whether or not I wanted to see Father and demand some answers, or never look at him again. Either way, I had to go report to him, so what I wanted didn’t really matter.

I dragged my feet all the way down the halls, finding out from a scientist that Father was waiting for me in my quarters. At least I didn’t have to make any detours before I could strip this armour off and go into a coma for however long I would be allowed to sleep. Better to just get it over with.

Sure enough, when I opened the door and stepped inside, Father was sitting on my bed, looking at me.

“How did it go?” he asked, like he didn’t already know. Like he hadn’t been watching through the camera of my visor the whole time.

“I…” I tried to speak, but the words didn’t come. Just the thought of the pain I’d caused formed a lump in my throat, and nothing could get past it.

Despite not receiving an answer, Father nodded. “Take off your armour, Jordyn.”

I didn’t need more encouragement than that. Piece by piece, I stripped off the black metal and dropped it on the floor like I was shedding the weight of my crimes. Somehow, things started to feel just a little bit better.

“Come here,” Father beckoned once it was all off. I slowly made my way over and sat down on the bed next to him.

“I saw what you did, Jordyn.”

“You were watching?” I asked.

“Of course. I’m always watching while you work. You did good. You did what I told you.”

I sniffed and nodded, not replying.

“It was hard, wasn’t it? Hurting him like that?”

Despite how hard I tried to hold it back, I couldn’t stop my face from scrunching up. The question slipped out before I could stop it.

“Why? Why did I have to do that?”

I tensed up, expecting to be struck. Instead, Father gently put his hand on my knee. I remained frozen, just in case.

“I know it’s difficult for you to understand, Jordyn. I’m not sure I can explain it in a way you will understand. Just know that Mr. Matthews did a very, very bad thing, and he needed to pay the price for it. You don’t need to worry about it beyond that, okay? You leave that to your betters, and just do what you’re told. You’re very good at it.”

The compliment sent shivers of pleasure down my spine, as did the gentle touch of Father’s hand as it moved around my shoulders instead. I did a good job for him. That was the important part, right?

“It didn’t feel good,” I muttered, a few errant tears escaping and falling down my face.

“I know, Jordyn. I know. You’re a gentle soul, aren’t you? But you did a good job, and now you won’t need to worry about it again. Tell you what, we’ll forget about your mistakes in training today, alright? I’ll have some fresh dinner made and brought to you shortly.”

The thought lit off a spark of excitement in my belly, though it was dampened a bit by confusion. “Wh… Why are you being so nice to me?”

Father tilted his head. “You’re my daughter, Jordyn. I know I’m hard on you sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. And when you do good for me, I want to reward you.” His smile remained, but his eyes turned a little colder. “Just don’t expect this treatment all the time. You performed a very difficult and important job today, and I recognise that. That’s all. Now, what do you say?”

I nodded. “R-right. Thank you, Father.”

He gently ruffled what little hair I had and stood up. “There’s a good girl. Have a good night, Jordyn.”

With that, he left me alone in my quarters. He was… actually happy with me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him so proud and receptive of my work. A giddiness I hadn’t felt for months rose up within me, struggling against the overpowering guilt of what I’d done to earn it. I did the right thing, but… it just didn’t feel right. Father wanted me to just forget about it, but was that really possible? Maggie would have wanted me to keep questioning, keep digging and searching until I found out the truth as to why he made me do that.

Both options sounded equally as exhausting. All I really wanted was to sleep.

My stomach growled loudly. …And maybe a good meal, too.

I went about my nightly routine, showering off the sweat and tears and getting changed into some sleep clothes. All that was left was to wait.

Sure enough, Father hadn’t been lying. About half an hour after he left, a piping hot bowl of chilli and rice was delivered right to my door. My favourite meal; he must really have been happy with me.

And yet, when I brought it inside and forced it down at my desk, I could barely even taste it. There was only nausea and the sound of screams.

—-

“Could you tell me your name?”

“St- Steven… Matthews.”

The nurse nodded, writing something down on her pad. “How old are you, Steven?”

Steve frowned, trying to remember the exact number. His head had been a mess of fog ever since he woke up in this room. He had a vague memory of what happened to him to get him sent here, but everything in between was just black.

“47… I think.”

“What’s fourteen plus twenty six?”

The mental maths took a bit longer than it really should have, but Steve thought he could be excused for that, given the circumstances. “Fourty.”

“Alright,” the nurse said, putting her pad down. “Seems like you’re all there. I’ll go get the doctor, and we can go over your prognosis. If you’re in any pain, you can press this button here to get a dose of morphine. Don’t worry about overdoing it; the machine has an inbuilt limiter. Try to stay awake, if you can.”

With that, the nurse left him alone with the beeping of his heart monitor. Hearing it was a little bit of a shock, to be honest. He’d been almost certain that last night would be his… well, his last night on earth. Was it just an accident that he was still alive? Or did de Vygon only intend for him to suffer, and not actually kill him?

Well, if that was his goal, he succeeded. More of Steve was broken than wasn’t; wrapped up in casts, stabilised with metal fastenings, poked full of intravenous drips and covered in monitoring equipment. He was just doing his best not to look at all of the metal braces sticking out of his leg, lest he throw up again like he did when he first woke.

Eventually, the doctor came in and gave him the rundown: in short, he was well and truly worked over. He had a nasty concussion, a punctured lung, three broken fingers, six cracked ribs, a leg so unimaginably shattered that it was likely he’d never walk on his own again, two missing teeth, a crooked nose, a broken collarbone, some lovely internal bleeding, and enough bruising to fill a semi-truck. He couldn’t even remember half of that stuff happening.

The pain wasn’t so bad now that he had morphine coursing through his system, but that was a small consolation in the face of… everything else.

“So… how long will I have to stay here?” he asked.

“It's hard to say at this time, but we're probably looking at a few weeks, at least,” the doctor replied. “The damage to your leg will take multiple surgeries to completely fix, and with injuries like yours, we want to be careful about letting you go too soon.”

Well, that wasn't too bad. It wasn't like he had a job to go back to, anyway.

The doctor finished up and left him to his drugged-up rest. Steve closed his eyes and tried to let the sleep find him. Of course, it was just his luck that Andreas de Vygon walked in at that very moment. The beeping of the heart monitor picked up speed.

“Ah, it’s good to see you’re awake, Steven.”

“Wh… Why are you here?”

He took a seat at Steve’s bedside. “Can’t a police captain visit his detective in his time of need? I heard about what happened. Such a shame that those burglars would pick your apartment, and that you happened to come home right at that time. Apparently, you’re very lucky to be alive.”

Steve tried to scowl, but it wasn’t very easy with how bruised and swollen his face was. “Yeah, I’m sure you know a lot about it.”

De Vygon chuckled. “Fine, if that’s how you want to be. I’ll do you the respect of speaking plainly, then. I know it was you who broke into the facility last night. I don’t have any concrete proof, but I am almost certain that it was you. Why?”

De Vygon could torture him; he wouldn’t say anything. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

De Vygon hummed. “I’m sure. Well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter why. Whatever your plan was has been foiled, regardless. Really, Steven… What were you expecting? That you’d just get to walk away?”

Steve glanced at his leg. “I think I have a solid shot at it.”

De Vygon laughed – actually laughed at that. “Apparently morphine turns you into a comedian. Who knew?”

“Cut the bullshit, Andreas. Why did you come here?”

De Vygon’s face darkened, just for a second, before that business neutral mask slipped right back into place. “Two things, Steven. Number one: Don’t ever show your face at my precinct again, unless you want someone to come and finish what they started. Number two: make sure whoever it is that you’re working for understands the same thing. No one crosses me and gets away with it.”

He stood up, dusting himself off as if merely being in Steve’s presence was enough to dirty him. “I would wish you a speedy recovery, but… Well, that would just be counterintuitive, wouldn’t it?”

With that, he turned and strolled out the door, just as smug as ever.

Fuckin’ prick.

There was a commotion outside just a moment after he left, and Steve heard Vivienne’s voice loud and clear through the thin walls.

“Get out of my way, asshole.”

Steve shut his eyes and prayed that she didn’t do anything stupid. If de Vygon had the slightest inkling that she had even a pinky toe dipped in this mess, she would suffer the same fate that he did.

Thankfully, things calmed down, and a moment later, Vivienne was bursting through the doors, looking on the verge of tears.

“Uncle Steve!”

She rushed over to his bedside, barely holding herself back from pouncing on him with a hug. Steve’s ribs were very grateful for that restraint. 

“Hey, Vivienne.”

“What happened?! We- We were just… I thought-”

“Calm down, Viv. I’m okay.”

“No you’re not, look at you!”

Steve put his casted hand up, trying to placate her. “I will be, okay? Just breathe.”

Vivienne pouted but she did as she was told, sighing and sitting down. “What happened? The person on the phone said someone broke into your apartment.”

Welp, there was no getting out of it now. He told her the truth; that he went into the facility without her.

“B-but… why? I thought we would go in together!”

“Look at me, Vivienne. I knew something like this would happen. How could I have let you come with me, knowing that this was how it would end?”

“I…” Vivienne opened her mouth, but nothing more came out. Clearly, she understood, as much as she so obviously hated it. She let out a sigh. “Do you know who did this to you?”

“No,” he lied. “Just one of de Vygon’s operatives, I assume.”

She looked down, her face scrunching up. “You don’t think… Surely it wasn’t Jordyn, right? Even at his orders, there’s no way she’d do something like this…”

Apparently, she would. What else would explain the darkness that overtook his vision before the assault began, or the metallic voice desperately apologising right before he blacked out? But Vivienne didn’t need to know that. No one needed to know it but him. Telling Vivienne that Jordyn almost beat her uncle to death would only make things harder for what they were trying to do.

“I don’t think so,” he answered.

Vivienne hummed. “Did you at least get anything out of it? Any proof of what’s been going on?”

And there was the kicker. Thankfully, Steve had a little more foresight than de Vygon had bargained for.

“Do you know the library on Cliff street?” he asked.

Vivienne frowned. “Uh, yes?”

“I need you to go in there with a USB. On the computer at the very back, on the left-hand side, you’ll find a file hidden in the documents folder titled ‘PGSN.’ Move it to the USB and take it to the Union. They’ll have a better idea of what to do with it than me. Be careful, though. De Vygon has shown that he’s clearly not messing around.”

 “What’s on the file?” she asked.

“Research notes, by the looks of things,” he replied. “Documenting years worth of experiments Andreas has done on his test subjects, Jordyn included.”

“You mean there’s more?!”

Steve tried to shake his head, but immediately regretted it. The painkillers were making him forget just how busted up his body really was. “No, most of them are dead, aside from the two I saw escape. It seems like he’s trying to create a superhero for some reason. From the sounds of it, he’s literally growing these kids from birth in tubes.”

“Jesus…” Vivienne muttered. “I guess Maddie was right when she wondered if Jordyn was a genetically engineered test-tube baby.”

Steve stifled a yawn. “You should get going, Vivienne. Before de Vygon realises he’s been played. Also, no offence, but I really need to rest.”

Vivienne smiled, though there was pain in it. “Okay. I’ll be back once I’m done, though. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Don’t you have class or something?”

“What better place to study nursing than in a hospital? I’ll still get my work done, you don’t have to worry.”

Steve grinned, his eyelids growing heavy. “That’s my girl. See you then.”

A quiet pop, and Vivienne was gone.

Finally, some peace and quiet. Steve closed his eyes and fell asleep.

taglist: @steelandblood @sapphicwhump @urnumber1star @alsolucakairomi @idk-whumpalt

@Iamheretohurt @anoyedartist @dontyoubleedoutonme @seastarblue @lettherebepain

@bacillusinfection

wahoo! yippee! whump!

also quite possibly some of the only guy whump in the whole story so far. They can have just a little. as a treat. :)

anyway, hope you enjoyed! let me know what you thought in a comment or reblog! it's v appreciated :3

up next is a MADDIE POV!!!!! my GIRL! my depressed QUEEN! and also the last chapter in this arc :) stay tuned!

[katboykirby]

Okay 🤷

I'm coming from the standpoint of someone who has both worked in the mobile game industry on the writing/game development side of things, and also as someone who personally knows and regularly speaks to staff at Solmare. All I'm doing is offering the perspective that comes with having that experience.

You personally seeing lots of posts about a particular topic, because it's a popular point of discussion in your circle, does not mean that the topic is popular or widely discussed outside of your circle. I'm not saying that no one is having these discussions, but I absolutely promise you that it's not as many people as you seem to think. And like, that's fine? Not sure why that's even an issue or anything, but okay?

Again, "this is badly written" is completely subjective. Your personal opinion on a piece of media is obviously fine, but it's not in any way universal or objective. To be honest, it's kind of a weird choice to even bring up because (in addition to it's subjectivity) it's simply not all that related to the original point that was being discussed? This specific post is about people being upset over optional monetization in the game, not about story quality. That's absolutely a conversation that can happen, but it's not the point of THIS post?

I don't know where I've been defending Solmare? In my original post I literally outlined multiple points of feedback and criticism, and examples of what I think they could have done differently and what they can still stand to improve. I also link directly to the contact page for their Support Team specifically so people can easily send their own feedback.

Ultimately, my main point was this: the new feature isn't perfect and Solmare could have done several things differently that would have improved the rollout and made people happier. BUT, it's also not the atrocious garbage fire that people are treating it as. There's harassment and abuse being sent to the official OM accounts, multiple people are saying that "everyone should boycott Solmare" and just overreacting in general. Which is a lot of drama over what is, essentially, a pretty standard and inoffensive item bundle being added to the shop.

The new feature is very normal for live service mobage (especially gacha) and "optional paid bonus content" is EXTREMELY common in this genre of games. In-app purchases for goodies and extra fluff exist in basically every gacha game ever, and OM isn't doing anything different. Obviously it's totally okay to not like it! And if you don't like it, you can just totally ignore it. It doesn't impact the game either way.

You're paying $30 and getting a long Devilgram story, a character phone call, exclusive premium artwork, and a stack of 300 DP on top. That's all. It's not mandatory, it doesn't lock any actual game progression or Main Story behind a paywall. It's just a totally optional goodie bag in the shop that you can completely ignore if you don't want to buy it. It's more than fair to criticise the pricing scheme, but some players are acting like the gave devs personally hacked into their bank accounts and stole their life savings.

Anyway, I'm probably not gonna keep replying like this because this post has gotten ridiculously long, lol. You're more than welcome to DM me if you wanna keep discussing stuff, but I might just disable reblogs because I wasn't expecting this post to get so much attention.

Going to play Devil's Advocate (ha) here for a moment, as someone who has experience working in the industry & game development:

Remember, every single time that any new feature is added to the game (even if that new feature is "just a new artwork and phone call") it means that Solmare is -

Paying artists for the new artwork

Paying writers for the new scripts

Paying the voice actors to record the new voice lines

Paying the game devs, coders, debuggers, etc, to actually implement the new feature into the game without breaking anything

Paying for QA

Paying the translators for all the different language versions (Obey Me is currently available in 4 different languages)

Paying the localisers for all different language versions

Etc, etc

This is all on top of the monthly costs of keeping a live service mobage like OM running smoothly. Anything that isn't paid for by the players is being operated at a loss. This isn't a flaw with OM itself, this is a fact that exists on an industry-wide level.

Secondly, while any concerns about the price are entirely valid, I think that a lot of people are glossing over an important point - Solmare is not charging you $30 for a Date Ticket. Solmare is charging $30 for a BUNDLE, which includes the Date Ticket as well as 300 DP. So this is similar to all the other sales bundles that have been rolled out in the past.

And the price is consistent with the standard price for DP in Akuzon. It has always been about $30 for 300 DP, so the price has not actually changed or been increased. This is an optional, $30 bundle for 300 DP that essentially includes the Date Ticket as a bonus for free.

You're totally justified if you don't want to spend $30 on this. I'm definitely not arguing that. While I think that this feature isn't as bad as some people are saying (I never would have expected any new features to be totally free) I do think that Solmare could have rolled this out in a better way than they did.

I think that most, if not all, of the complaints would disappear if they simply offered different bundles for different price tiers. This is something they've already done in the past, even! Just give people alternatives, like...

$1.39 for the Date Ticket by itself

$10 for 100 DP + Date Ticket

$20 for 200 DP + Date Ticket

$30 for 300 DP + Date Ticket

And so on. I think this probably would have alleviated many people's concerns, and would have made the new feature more accessible for more players.

Now, I don't think that harassing the official Twitter account is the way to go about communicating your thoughts. There's a difference between genuine constructive criticism/feedback given in good faith, and needlessly rude hate comments. "Fuck you, hope your game goes broke" doesn't help anybody, and will only make Solmare less likely to listen to the EN fandom. They've dealt with a lot of harassment from Western fans before, including death threats, and you aren't communicating anything useful or constructive by sending hate to the EN social media account.

Solmare has a Support team that you can email, if you have feedback and you actually want to reach the JP game devs. If you want to let them know that you want other/more affordable options for the new Date Ticket feature, this is the best way to do that. Just remember to be civil, since harassment and hate mail are extremely likely to simply be thrown out before it reaches the hands of anyone in charge.

[raddestrose]

Bro Imma be for real, it didn’t click that Huaisang was the like THE guy, it took me like a few minutes

But forgive me for saying, he’s like totally innocent in my book

[jackfrostimposter]

genuinely why is there so much misinformation about the guardians of childhood book series?

[thatfaerieprincess]

Do y’all want to see me hopping around dressed up as a green tree frog for our Halloween kids event at work???

[habitual-creatures]

I’m feelin’ good. Feelin’ sassy. Especially at 4 a.m. How are you Mr. H?

(I’m new to your blog and this fandom as a whole but finally got the courage to send something.)

DOIN' PRETTY GOOD, Y'KNOW. GLAD TO HEAR WE'RE FEELIN' SASSY OVER THERE, THAT'S GOOD, THAT'S HALF THE BATTLE NOW, ISN'T IT?

DAMN RIGHT IT ISN'T.

[ REGARDS, HABIT ]

(( gahhh!!!! Hi!! I remember the notification of you following me! I'm glad you sent something *please don't be afraid of me, lol. I'm nice I promise-* but thanks for sending me something, Adal! It's nice to hear from ya! ))

[bumpscosity]

FINISHED PORTAL REVOLUTION A BIT AGO IM

[schmooplesthesecond]

i didn't go in with the intention of making dahlia match gales purple nebula aesthetic but here we are.

also, as beautiful and emotional as this scene is, just some of dahlia's expressions while gale was spouting off his plan for karsus' folly 2: revengence are a mood.

like i do believe these were my own expressions this first time getting this scene lmao

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

man I really would love to see an (explicitly) religious companion on Doctor Who. esp one who's written in such a way as makes their faith relevant to the storylines and challenges and tests it but ultimately remains respectful and keeps the theme of it relevant within the specific science fiction setting that Doctor Who occupies. I personally just think that would be great.

[ruerock]

🧸 havent done talking in tags in a bit so here i go!!

[pinktinselmonstrosity]

how do i explain to my normal friends that i would rather die than download a dating app

[in-a-slanted-outhouse]

.

[skyburger]

new title & bio... hopefully the way the number displays is just on my tiny phone screen? so if its like that on everyones screens well. My bad guys

[blkkizzat]

*TURN SOUND ON & UP :)

JJK MEN (GOJO, TOJI, CHOSO, GETO, SUKUNA, NANAMI) X READER

case files: doppelgänger curses have been running rampant and causing chaos around tokyo impersonating everyday civilians including sorcerers. jujutsu society has set up veils and your boyfriend has given you strict orders not to lower them to let anyone in the house but him—but how do you know if it’s really even him?

report notes: I love this game! If you haven't played go play a few rounds @ thatsnot-myneighbor[DOT]io (it’s free and all online). —last up: Sukuna!

kinktober 2023-2024 m.list | original teaser

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙽𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙷𝙱𝙾𝚁𝚂 𝙱𝙾𝚈𝙵𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙽𝙳𝚂:

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟷........... THE STRONGEST

alias: 𝚐𝚘𝚓𝚘, 𝚜.

visitor log: its midday and your clingy-ass boyfriend—gojo satoru—should be hard at work right getting rid of these doppels not knocking at your door—gotta be a fake... right?!

classifications: bimbo!reader (canonverse of otaku!gojo's bunny!reader), yandere-esque Gojo, nipple play, recorded sex, lots of sex toys, dirty talk, panty theft, extreme overstim + slight omorashi.

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟸........... THE SORCERER KILLER

alias: 𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚘, 𝚝.

visitor log: an extra toji fushiguro should be double the trouble and double the fun but neither likes to share, you know for sure which ones your toji—but do you really even care?

classifications: bratty!reader, brat taming, breeding, baby trapping, hair pulling, spit play + creampies, jealousy, grump!toji, daddy kink

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟹........... THE CULT LEADER

alias: 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚘, 𝚜.

visitor log: you shouldn't have even been watching the gate bunny, that's much too hard for you! so when you inevitably fuck up, your cult leader boyfriend—geto suguru—has the perfect punishment planned for you and your pretty pussy wait..in front of his entire congregation tho!?

classifications: dumb bimbo!reader, canonverse of nerd!geto's bunny!reader, cult rhetoric, dark themes, sensory deprivation/amaurophilia, punishment, humiliation, shibari, edging, overstim, exhibitionism, toxic jealousy, possessiveness, yandere Suguru, drugged sex, cnc/free-use reader, mentions of orgies/group sex and a bit of forced breeding.

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟺........... THE SORCERER SALARYMAN

alias: 𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚒, 𝚔.

visitor log: your sweet boyfriend, nanami kento, promised he'd come visit you tonight bunny. awe baby, don't cry, you're sure that's actually him at the door but you'll run through your checklist just to make sure, won't you?

classifications: error 404—case report not found (finalizing)

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟻........... THE BIG BROTHER

alias: 𝚔𝚊𝚖𝚘, 𝚌.

visitor log: crazed with quarantine boredom, you can't help but to tease your naive lil' roommate—choso kamo—but you'll know when to stop before it goes too far—or have you already let the real Choso in?

classifications: mommy kink, affectionate cruelty/cuteness aggression, begging, teasing, virgin!choso, creampies, masturbation, panty theft, mentions of menophilia.

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟼.......... THE KING OF CURSES

alias: 𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚞𝚗𝚊, 𝚛.

visitor log: thinking no curse would be stupid enough to enter his palace, when the king of curses comes home to find you fucking his doppel it's not going to end well for either of you—R.I.P. your pussy sis, any last words?

classifications: error 404—case report not found (finalizing)

𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙿𝙾𝚁𝚃𝚂 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙵𝙸𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝙸𝙰𝙻 𝙳.𝙳.𝙳. 𝙰𝙶𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝙱𝙻𝙺𝙺𝙸𝚉𝚉𝙰𝚃

— 𝙳𝙴𝙿𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝙰𝙵𝙵𝙰𝙸𝚁𝚂: 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃 𝙳𝙸𝚅𝙸𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽.

xoxo 💋

report notes: yo so this was meant to be about 4k total and instead it turned out to be 4k per story so i'm breaking it up (fully completed 3 and making last minute edits on the others, so staggering them out). Consider this a kinktober all on its own lol (still doing stuff left over from last years though). btw—everyone who asked on my official taglist, kinktober or the teaser will still be tagged on each individual story but you can comment below if you haven't asked to be tagged already.

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

[not-neverland06]

n a s t y d o g I logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've never felt this way about a fictional character before. Every gif I see of him has me gnawing and biting at the bars of my enclosure. I want to bite him. If Hugh Jackman ever discovered what thoughts lurk inside my rotted brain about him he'd get a restraining order. This isn't OKAY Anyways... Summary: You'd thought you'd had a good thing going with Logan. You weren't officially anything to each other, but you were getting close. You truly saw a future with him, but he made it incredibly clear he did not feel the same 18+ HATE FUCKING (MDNI)

(one chance please, just one chance with him)

“Are you sure this isn’t totally clingy girlfriend of me?”

Ororo gives you an irritated look and Jean laughs. “Not at all, Scott loves it when I surprise him like this.” You’re all huddled in your room, each of you in varying stages of getting ready. Jean is finishing off her eyeliner at your vanity, Ororo is putting on her boots, and you’re trying to decide between a skirt and a dress. 

You’re not entirely sure how, or why, Logan and Scott decided to go to the bar together tonight. You suspect it has something to do with Jean. She wants them to start getting along so there’s less friction when you’re all around each other. 

At Jean’s idea, Logan had muttered, “When hell freezes over,” in your ear before he had left for the night. You’d gotten a little antsy without him to entertain you and had mistakenly blurted out the idea of going to visit them. Ororo had been dying to get out of the house and Jean was a little worried about her boyfriend as well. They’d agreed to go along with you and you’ve felt a weight in your stomach ever since. 

Your relationship with Logan was relatively new. Hell, a month ago you’d thought he’d hated you the same he did Scott. You’d, of course, been proven wrong when you’d had a few drinks with him and things had taken a very physical turn. 

You weren’t sure if he’d just wanted a one-night stand or something serious. But when you’d tried to sneak out the next morning and he’d muttered a grumpy, “Where’re you going?” You’d gotten your answer. 

You hadn’t been on any real dates, there didn’t ever seem to be time for them. But you spent most of your days together. Sometimes just silently enjoying each other’s company, other times you would be holed up in one of your rooms cuddling. The thought always brings a stupid lovesick grin to your face. 

It’s one of your first real relationships and you’re worried that things are moving a little too fast. At least on your end. You can already tell that you’re falling for him. Headfirst into the deep end of love. And it’s terrifying because you truly cannot tell what he thinks about you. Clearly, he likes you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t let you follow him around like a lost puppy. 

But he’s never truly said anything to you. There’s no official label as to what you two are. You say girlfriend off-handly and you usually don’t mean it when you reference yourself. You’ve never outright said he’s your boyfriend and he’s never really claimed you. He’s made it explicitly clear he doesn’t want you sleeping with other men, and you’ve said the same to him about women. You both agreed on that, but…

You kind of drive yourself crazy trying to figure this out. He’s not vocal about his feelings and everything’s still new so you don’t like pressuring him. You also worry that if you push him too far he’ll just get tired of you and move on. It’s not fair to assume that of him, and you know everything would be better if you just talked to him. But you’re scared. You’re scared the conversation will take the wrong direction and everything will blow up in your face. 

Jean calls your name and your head shoots up to see both Ororo and Jean looking at you expectantly. You flush when you realize they must have been talking to you and you’d just completely zoned out thinking about Logan. 

“Huh?” You blurt out, cringing at how dumb you sound. 

Jean gives you a concerned look, “I can practically taste your anxiety.” The telepath frowns and offers you a comforting smile. “Don’t worry about it, I promise, Logan won’t mind at all.”

“You’re fine,” Ororo adds, because clearly the look on your face screams, I need constant validation. They’re not wrong, but still, you hate feeling like an exposed bundle of nerves. “Think of it as girl’s night, the boys just happen to be there.” 

You force a smile on your face and give your most enthusiastic nod. You change into the dress and finish up with your hair. You finally start chatting with them again, engaging so it might disguise just how nervous you feel. 

There’s this clenching feeling, traveling from your stomach up to your chest. It makes you sick, makes you hurt. And it’s not because you think Logan will be upset with you for crashing. He’d be relieved, if anything. There’s something else. Premonition isn’t one of your abilities, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that now. 

The bar is loud when you walk in. The soles of your shoes immediately start to stick to the floor and your nose screws up in disgust at the loud laughter coming from around the pool tables. You glance around, trying to see if you can spot Logan. 

You’d say you could spot him in any crowd. But has a propensity to hunker down and try to attract as little attention as possible so people don’t bother him. “There he is,” Jean taps your shoulders and points to the two men at the end of the bar. 

Like you’d thought, Logan is hunched over his whiskey, glowering down at the wood under him like it had insulted him. You almost want to laugh at the sight. Some of the earlier anxiety eases its grip on you and you feel your shoulders begin to untense. 

Before you can walk over Ororo grabs Jean’s wrist. “Gotta go to the bathroom,” she tugs Jean behind her. 

Jean looks over her shoulder at you and smiles encouragingly, “Go to them, we’ll catch up in a second.” You give her a tentative nod and slip through the crowd. There are more people here than you thought there would be. 

You’re happy not to spot any kids in the crowd. You’ve had a few too many nights out crashed by kids who thought they were good at sneaking out. 

It’s easy enough not to spot you or the other women in the crowd. Mutants have gotten good at blending in with the people around them. Makes it easier to get around. It’s probably why neither Logan nor Scott stop their conversation as you approach. “So,” Scott draws the word out, fingers tapping against the glass of his beer. 

“Don’t,” Logan warns. You want to laugh at his grumpy demeanor, but someone’s accidentally elbowed you and you find yourself stumbling a few steps back. It’s taking entirely too long to get to them, the bar isn’t even that big. There’s just that many people here. 

Scott ignores him and rolls his eyes. “Look, we’re stuck here for a while. Try and pull that stick out of your ass.”

“How about I put one in yours?” Logan’s claws come out slightly. But then they both share an odd look and Scott smirks. “Shut the fuck up,” Logan grouses, “not like that.”

“Right,” Scott huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He picks up his bottle and takes a long drink. You’ve nearly reached them now. You stop, though, when you hear Scott say your name. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. Eavesdropping now is just asking to get hurt. 

You drop back into the crowd, hoping the smells of others will stop Logan from discovering you lurking behind them both. Scott continues, “How’s that going?”

You crane your neck forward, trying to hear them better over the karaoke happening behind you. Someone is butchering Britney Spears but you couldn’t care less right now. Logan shouldn’t answer. Since when has he ever shared anything with Scott?

So, imagine your surprise when his answer isn’t immediately telling him to fuck off. “Eh,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his whiskey. Your face drops in irritation. Seriously, all this skulking around for an Eh? That’s bullshit. 

You keep yourself from stepping forward, forcing your feet still, and ignoring the little voice in the back of your head telling you this is a bad idea. You’ve committed this much, you’re seeing it through. Scott whistles lowly, “That bad, huh?” Oh, fuck off, Summers. 

Logan shakes his head and for a moment you have a brief feeling of hope lifting you up. “Nah, not bad. It’s just, I don’t know.” Logan sits up and signals the bartender for a refill. Your snooping senses go off and you briefly see Ororo and Jean exiting the bathroom. Desperate for something to keep them at bay, you flick your wrist. The man in front of them tips his drink down Jean’s shirt, slurring out apologies. Jean huffs and Ororo brings her back into the bathroom. 

Scott and Logan somehow missed the whole interaction and you promise yourself that you’ll pay for Jean’s dry cleaning. You’re definitely not going to. “Think she wants something I don’t,” Logan tells Scott, and your heart plummets to your feet. You can practically see it deflate, all the lovesickness draining out of it and onto the floor of this grimy bar. 

“Like, she just wants to fuck around?”

Logan shakes his head and downs another glass of whiskey. He’s just swallowing it down like it’s water. At a certain point, the bartender gets sick of it and just leaves him with the bottle. “No, she wants something real. Like a real relationship.” Scott’s brows furrow and Logan shrugs. “Not interested.” 

It’s the way he says it that really bothers you. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something different in a relationship. It happens all the time. But he says it so dismissively. He knows that you want something real with him, something secure and loving. He knows that, continues to fuck you and lead you on, and then speaks as though you’re an idiot for ever being interested in that. 

Hurt hasn’t set in yet. You’re staring wide-eyed, jaw agape with shock as you stare at Logan’s back. You’d thought a conversation needed to be had. But you didn’t think that he thought of you like this. You’d thought you meant something to him. 

Scott seems to share the sentiment, his lips tugged down into a frown. He leans against the bar, surveying Logan with a disbelieving look. “What?” Logan snaps.

Scott raises his hands in surrender, shaking his head and backing off. “Nothing, man, I just thought you two were serious about each other.” You miss whatever Logan says as an arm slings itself around your shoulder. 

“What’re you doing?” A husky, seductive voice whispers against the shell of your ear. You jump in shock, glaring at Ororo as she grins at you. She lets her arm slide off your shoulders and glances over at Jean. “I think she was spying.”

Jean nods, nudging you forward. “Definitely spying. Hear anything good?”

You fortify your mind against her probing fingers before she can find out. “Nope,” you blurt out. You hope the racing of your heart is dismissed by your constantly frazzled nature. You hope the look on your face is explained by your earlier boredom and anxiety. You pray that none of them notice the way you lean away from Logan when the men finally turn around and notice you all. 

Scott breathes out a dramatic sigh of relief and slumps onto Jean. “Thank god, I thought I was going to die trying to talk to this brick wall.” his eyes flick towards you in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. There’s a brief pitying look before he grins. “Come to get your boyfriend?” There’s a heavy emphasis on the word that you never would have noticed had you not heard their conversations. 

It’s clearly a petty dig at Logan. And you would appreciate it if you didn’t feel the sudden urge to vomit up your dinner. “Thought you might need saving from Logan.” You tell him, a chuckle hiding the slight tremor in your voice. 

You’re not sure if he does, but you hope Logan notices how you avoided the word boyfriend. You hope that he hurts the same way you do. But you know, deep down, that he doesn’t care. He’s probably relieved that you didn’t use the title. 

Logan gets off his stool, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, and pulls you into a brief hug. His lips press against your temple before he dips down to whisper, “Thank you,” in your ear.

Asshole, he’s not allowed to smile at you the way he is. If you weren’t in such a crowded place and already overstimulated, you’d shove him away. If your friends weren’t watching you’d take his arm and slam it down onto the bar until you hear his fucking adamantium bones break. 

That might have been too far. Maybe you’re not that angry, but you’re hurt.

You place your hands against his chest, a thin smile on your lips while you hum a simple, “Mhm.” He doesn’t seem to notice the way you push away from him. It’s easily dismissed by you cheekily stealing his seat at the bar. 

He comes up behind you, hands bracketing you and keeping you stuck against the bar while you order your drink. One of his hands drifts down, laying against your thigh. You know this isn’t sexual, this is him comforting you. 

He shouldn’t know how horrible you feel in such busy places. He shouldn’t know that and know that his touch is grounding and then help you. Not if he doesn’t want something serious. If he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, didn’t want to be anything but a fuck, then why do this to you? Did he not think this was leading you on? Is this just him caring for you?

You’ll drown in a sea of unanswered questions before the night is over if you linger too long. You tip your head back, let your shot burn its way down your throat, and turn towards the others with a smile. You feel your worries fade and your focus loosen as you simply drift further into your mind. 

You must have disassociated or something. By the time you realize you’re no longer hearing bad karaoke and your elbows aren’t sticking to the bar, you’re already home. You stare in the mirror, hand pausing as you brush your teeth before you quickly finish. 

You didn’t drink much, you never do. It fucks with your abilities and causes migraines. You rinse your mouth out and glance into your bedroom. Logan groans and stretches. His back bows, muscles flexing and you rip your eyes away. You can’t let yourself be distracted by the chest you want to drape yourself across. 

You need to talk to him. It’s never been more clear. You wipe your mouth and toss the towel onto the rim of the sink. You take in a deep breath, trying to get rid of the nerves plaguing you. It’s never worked before, it’s not going to suddenly cure you now. 

You give up on the thought and instead, shove down the anxiety until you have enough confidence to speak. It takes a little while, Logan peaks an eye open, eyebrows quirked when he sees you just staring at him. “Something up, bub?” he flexes, on purpose, and you roll your eyes. You grab his shirt out of your hamper and toss it at him. 

“Put this on. Can’t think when you look like that.”

He chuckles, “That’s the point.” at your pointed glare his smile drops and he tugs the beater on. It barely does anything to deter you. If anything you’re having more trouble paying attention. Especially now that his full attention is on you. The humor is gone from the room, a thick tension replaces it. Logan seems to feel it, sitting up straighter and glaring at you like he’s trying to read your mind. “What’s wrong?” It’s a demand more than a question. 

It’s hard to look at him. But you refuse to let yourself cower now. You take in a fortifying breath and let your gaze bore into his. You put all the hurt and anger you feel into it, willing yourself to be firm. “We need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?” He’s brusque, but there’s a slight concern to his tone. 

There’s no point hiding this. And maybe you had misheard, maybe there was a conversation prefacing the one you’d heard. And you’ll talk it out and everything will be okay. “I heard you and Scott talking at the bar.”

The hope you had, as minimal as it was, is dashed at your feet. He sucks in a deep breath and the look on his face has you crestfallen. You can feel your chest cave in. You feel so stupid all of a sudden. Constantly following after him, even before you started dating him. Looking at him with stars in your eyes and latching onto his every move and word. 

You’d worshiped him, put him up on a pedestal he didn’t deserve. Superhuman or not, at the end of the day he was still a man. And they’ve done nothing but disappoint you. You suck your teeth, gaze dropping to your feet as you fight back the tears in your eyes. “Right,” you whisper, stepping back from him. 

“Look,” he starts. You force your eyes up and watch as he rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck. He takes a step towards you and you shake your head, stepping away from him. His arms fall to his sides and he sighs. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“That’s it?” You demand, tone incredulous. You weren’t some great love or anything. But that’s seriously all he has to say.

He opens his mouth, eyes softening as he stares at you. Then he snaps it shut, something covers his face and his expression is borderline cruel as he sneers at you. “Not my fault you got in over your head, kid. Never said I wanted anything more with you.” He points at you, and you suddenly feel like a little girl getting scolded. You’ve never had a partner make you feel this small, especially not Logan. “You were just convenient.”

You rear back like he slapped you. You think it might have hurt less than that. To know you wasted so much time on such a fucking dick makes you want to throw up. Or scream, or cry. You can’t decide on one. But your powers can, the walls are shaking, knick-knacks falling off your shelves as energy pulses from you. 

You’ll face the hurt, the sadness, the horrible ache of rejection later. Right now, you need him out of your face before you bring the whole mansion crumbling down around you. “Out.” You grind the word out, turning away from him and clutching your hands to your chest. You take in quick, rapid breaths, trying to think of anything other than how horrible you feel. 

You haven’t lost control like this in a long time. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of being the reason you get put on probation again. He whispers your name, coming up behind you like he’s going to touch you. 

You want to lash out, want to hurt him like he’s hurt you. But you’ll only cause more damage than necessary. He’s not worth hurting the kids in the rooms around you. You shove past him, ignoring the way he shouts your name. 

You dart out into the hall, grateful there are so few people milling around. Nearly everyone’s asleep, just a few stragglers finishing up their homework for tomorrow. A few of them give you odd looks that turn concerned when they see Logan chasing after you. Your bones are practically vibrating by the time you make it outside. 

You rush towards the grove of trees at the back of the mansion. Your knees give out under you before you can make it very far. Energy pulses out of you in an explosive circle. You hear bark crack and turn into nothing but dust as the air around you trembles. 

It’s a relief, like going to the bathroom after holding it all day. You feel it drain away from you, a plug pulled out as the energy rushes from you. It slows after a minute, feeling more like a leak than a steady stream. 

Your hands shake by your sides as you lay trembling on the grass. Your eyelids flutter shut and you try and keep them open but it’s hard. All of your energy had been spent keeping yourself in check until you made it out of the mansion. 

“I’ve got you,” a voice mutters near your ear. Familiar strong arms dip under your knees, lifting you up and pulling you into a sturdy chest. You recognize the body, recognize the uncomfortable warmth coming from him. But your tongue won’t work and you're passing out before you can try and push him away. 

You’re in your own bed when you wake up again. You’re briefly comforted by the warm feeling of the sheets around you before you realize how cold the other side of the bed is. You’re so used to the feeling of someone being beside you that it’s jarring for no one to be there. You sit up, a spark of anxiety lighting up inside you before it’s being quelled by an outside force. 

“I think it’s best if we keep that under control.” You’re not surprised to hear Charles’s voice. You can’t be, not when he’s actively keeping you calm and placid. You lean back against your headboard. You tilt your head lazily, looking at him while he looks out the window. 

“That tree was a hundred years old.”

You wince, face screwing up when you remember the large oak tree you obliterated last night. “I can remake it,” you promise. 

“You could,” he corrects, “but whatever happened last night between you and Logan is causing your powers to be volatile.” He finally turns towards you, the motor of his wheelchair a dull buzz as he smiles at you. There’s no resentment in his gaze at least. You’d known he wouldn’t be mad at you. He was used to accidents like this. Had you hurt another person, however, this would be an entirely different conversation. 

There’s a dull ache in your chest at the mention of Logan, but it’s quickly covered by another wave of calm from Charles. He smiles and holds out two metal bracelets. They’re thick, something red inlaid into the black metal. They look like handcuffs more than anything. His lips quirk up at your thought and you frown. 

“That’s what they are, right? Cuffs.”

“You’re not a criminal,” he assuages, his tone gentle as you take them from him. There’s a small silver button inside that you click and the metal springs open. You place your left wrist inside and it snaps shut, it’s a snug fit. It won’t be moving around anytime soon. You put the right one on and feel Charles’ hold on your mind ease the second it's closed. Every horrible feeling from last night crashes down on you and you nearly choke on it. 

You wonder how Charles managed to keep you asleep for so long without the roof crumbling. He chuckles, the noise tired. “Jean helped me. It took a while for the cuffs to be ready.”

The way he says that causes alarms to go off in your head. “How long?” He takes in a sharp breath and shakes his head, attempting to dismiss the question. “Charles,” you snap, voice bordering on a shout. 

“Two days,” he says. You gasp and slump back against your sheets. He says your name but you get to your feet and pace. You don't know what to do with yourself. There’s energy buzzing under your skin, but the cuffs are keeping it at bay. It feels wrong like your pores are being clogged with acid. 

“Two days.” You look over at him, horror painting your face and you can see why he was so apprehensive to tell you. “It’s never been that bad before.”

“No,” he starts cautiously, “It hasn’t. Which makes me wonder, what transpired between you and Logan that destroyed my grandfather’s tree?” 

You cringe at the mention of the tree. He’s never going to let go of that. Even when you recreate it, he’s still going to hold it over your head. His teasing eases you out of the spiral you were heading down and you glance over at him. “You’ve been in my head for two days. I’m sure both you and Jean already know.”

He smacks his lips together and shrugs, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Simply seeing if you wanted to discuss it, my dear.”

You vehemently shake your head and sit back down on your bed. “No, I don’t want to talk about him. I don't want to see him.” Charles gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you and you hate it. You truly don’t want to see Logan again. Just thinking about him makes you want to explode. He was a pig and you regret ever wasting your time on him. 

There’s a shriveled part of your heart weeping somewhere, but you crush in your fist until it shuts the fuck up. “Right,” Charles nods. “I do believe it’s best for your recovery that we keep you two separated for a while.” He rolls past you and places a comforting hand on yours. “Rest, you’ll feel more like yourself soon.”

You nod and watch him leave. Exhaustion suddenly seems to drop its heavy weight on your shoulders. Two days being restrained by telepaths probably wasn’t very restful. You lay across your comforter, rolling over and hoping when you wake up your heart will be healed. 

Two weeks. Two pathetic, snot-filled, and disgusting weeks of sobbing over Logan. You felt like a sixteen-year-old again, crying over the boy that didn’t like you back. It was awful, especially knowing that the entirety of the mansion knew what was wrong with you. 

Your students would leave your class and you would lock your doors, hiding under your desk as you wept. Those with superhearing or telepathy would bake you cookies and leave gifts at your door. It was sweet, but honestly made you feel ten times worse. You felt like your sadness was a burden you were forcing everyone to carry. 

Your mother would be so disappointed in you. She’d always told you that you mourn a relationship half the amount of time you were in it. Of course, hers never lasted more than a few weeks. And she’d had more boyfriends than you could count on three hands. 

Besides, you were allowed to wallow for a while. This was someone you were starting to fall for. To be so blind going into and leaving the relationship was awful. Having the rug ripped out from under you had been cruel and needless. You’re resentful and grateful he’d been so horrifically honest with you. On one hand, if the relationship had just ended, you’d be pining after him. Wondering what you’d done to lose such an amazing guy. 

But being faced with the brutal truth, knowing he was a piece of shit, it makes you hate yourself. You should have seen it. Should have known that he didn’t want you like you wanted him. But there were never any signs. You’d run it through your head a million times. Every interaction you’ve ever had with him. None of it shows you where he’d been lying to you or using you. You can’t even trust yourself anymore. 

There’s a loud knock on your door and you sniffle, tossing another tissue in the trash as you go to answer it. “Hello?” You croak. You can barely see, eyes puffy and so swollen your vision is blurry. 

“Holy hell,” Ororo scoffs and shakes her head. She pushes into your room and slams the door shut before anyone can see how awful you look. To be fair, you keep yourself relatively put together during the day. But it’s after hours now, you’re allowed to be a mess. 

“You look like shit.” 

Neither of you are prepared as you begin to blubber. Your lips tremble and your voice shakes as you begin to sob. “I know,” you wail. “I hate it.” Ororo’s eyes widen in horror and she quickly pushes you into your desk chair, grabbing a box of tissues and shoving it in your hands. 

“I feel,” you stutter, having to take in a few shuddering breaths before you can get the words out. “He tore out my heart and ripped it up with his stupid fucking claws.”

“Okay, okay,” Ororo runs her hands over your arms, trying to soothe you. “I know, sh, it’s okay.” She groans, “Stop crying,” she pleads under her breath. 

“I’m trying!” You snap at her, running hands over your wet cheeks and trying to swallow down the rest of your tears. 

“Look,” she steps back and shakes her head. She glances down at you, disgust poorly hidden on her face. She’s really fucking bad at comforting someone. “This is awful, I can’t take it anymore. You two keep dancing around each other and you’re putting everyone on edge. You won’t stop crying and he keeps going off,” she holds her hands up and shakes her head. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

You frown, brows turning down in confusion. “What?” You didn’t think Logan would be mad. You pictured him skipping through a field of daisies, happy to finally be rid of you. It only made you hate yourself more that you were still crying over it all. 

“He’s kind of losing it,” she seems reluctant to relent the information. “Look,” she kneels in front of you and snatches the tissue box from your hand. She tosses it to the side and forces you to meet her eyes. “He’s in love with you. We all know it, Jean’s confirmed it. He loves you, he needs you, he’s just terrified to admit it. He’s afraid of what's going to happen if you two become real.”

Your eyes widen with the realization. She nods enthusiastically as you connect the pieces. You can’t deny what’s so plainly laid in front of you when she assures you that even Jean knows. Jean knowing means she just did a nosy dive into his head. 

You can picture what could happen. With rom-com levels of nauseating romance, you run to find him. You tell him you don’t care that he’s afraid. You don’t care he pushed you away and you do love him. He’s not going to lose you. Nothing can rip you apart. You ride off into the sunset on Scott’s bike blah blah blah. 

This isn’t a fucking romance. And you’re not going to cry over a man who's too much of a pussy to admit he has feelings. You like men who have emotional depth deeper than a teaspoon. “Are you fucking kidding me?"

Ororo’s face blanches and she slowly backs away from you as you stand. “No,” she answers slowly, like she’s not sure of herself now. 

“That’s what I’ve been crying over?” You feel upset for an entirely different reason. You never misread the signs. You never missed a hint that he didn’t feel what you did. He did! He was just happier letting you doubt yourself and the love you held for him than admitting he felt something. You tear off the depression hoodie you’ve been living in for the past two weeks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

You don’t know where you’re going. Normally, you’d run into a forest to let out a blast of energy. It drained you enough that you wouldn’t have to feel anything. But with these cuffs on, you can’t do anything. 

You storm out of your room and stomp down the stairs, uncaring who you wake up. You’ve wasted so much time on Logan, you refuse to stay in your room and cry for another fucking night. 

“I want to see her,” Logan growls. He tries to move around Charles, but he stops him with his mind, holding him in place while Jean disappears inside your room. Logan watches her go and glares at her retreating back as the door closes behind her. 

It’s been a day already, you’ve never needed to be out for more than a few hours. He doesn’t want to think that there’s anything wrong with you, that he might have permanently broken something inside you. 

That talk at the bar with Scott had been stupid. He would have said anything to get him to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. He didn’t really mean what he said, he just wanted him to back off. And saying that your relationship wasn’t anything was quicker than pouring out every thought he’s had of you. 

It was easier lying than it was to admit just how much he wanted you. Just how far he would go for you. But then you’d overheard, and you brought it up. And there’d been faith on your face. Like even you couldn’t believe what he had said because you could see through the bullshit. 

But all Logan had seen was a way out. This was an opportunity to finally get out of the suffocating clutches of something he didn’t want to admit was love. He took the chance before he could think. It’s what he was used to. Taking the easy way out, especially when it came to shit like emotions. 

He hadn’t thought you were going to explode, though. Because that’s exactly what you’d done. By the time he’d caught up to you, you’d burned a crater into the ground and had destroyed Charles’ stupid fucking tree. 

Seeing you like that, laying there lifeless, it terrified him. He didn’t want to live in a world that you weren’t in. There was no fucking point. It was sobering, realizing that, and then realizing that he was the reason you were like that in the first place. 

He didn’t want to live without you and he certainly would never be able to come to terms with being the reason you were dead. But it didn’t matter, whatever realizations he was coming to. Charles and Jean were completely blocking him from your room. They weren’t even giving him a chance to look at you. And he was about five seconds away from ripping the old bastard’s head off and just barrelling inside. 

He didn’t care what they said, he needed to see that you were okay. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to see her for a very long time.”

“Stay out of my head,” Logan growls, glaring down at the man. “What are you talking about?” He presses, finally processing the rest of his sentence.

Charles sighs and rolls away from him. Logan glares at his back but ultimately follows. “You were the cause of this, yes?” Reluctantly, Logan nods, there’s no point in hiding it. He’s sure Charles already knows. “For her own safety, the two of you will need to remain separated.”

That had been it. There was no arguing about it. No fighting Charles. It was for your safety that he stayed away from you. No matter how much he wanted to explain himself, he wouldn’t risk another meltdown like that. 

You didn’t deserve to get hurt because of someone like him. He wouldn’t be able to stand hurting you again. 

But two weeks seemed like a lot. At a certain point, he’s sure you’re just avoiding him. He knows he can’t blame you. He’d been a fucking idiot. But that didn’t make him any happier. If anything, he was getting more and more pissed off every day. 

He had less patience for mistakes. Was lashing out at the kids more often and don’t even get started on the petty fucking fights he was picking with Scott. How long did you fucking need before you talked to him again?

He knows you’re upset, your crying keeps everyone up at night. Something he’s sure you’d be mortified to learn about. Why won’t you let him comfort you? Why do you have to be so petulant, running around the corner every time you see him? Pointedly ignoring him when you’re in the same room together. 

He could fix this, make this all better. But you’re just not letting him. He knows this is why he loves you. It’s why he was so drawn to you. You seem like a bundle of nerves, constantly flitting around and keeping yourself small. It had been off-putting at first. And then he’d seen you training with Scott, kicking his ass more like. A switch had been flicked in his head. 

He could finally see you for what you were. He finally realized that it was your abilities you were keeping small. You were a fucking spitfire and you didn’t hesitate to tell him off, he loved it. Loved arguing with you just so he could see you get all pissed off. 

But that stubborn attitude he loved was really biting him in the ass right now. 

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and he doesn’t even get to pretend it’s going to be you. He smells Jean’s perfume and rolls his eyes. He puffs on his cigar and contemplates ignoring her.

“Don’t be a jackass, open the damn door.” 

Fuckin’ telepaths. “What?” He snaps at her the second the door is open. Her face screws up when she smells the smoke from his cigar. He knows she wants to put it out, and can see it in the twitch of her fingers. He raises a brow, a silent challenge to try him. He’s itching for another fight and she can feel it. 

She lets out a sharp breath, choosing her battles wisely and backing off. He’s almost disappointed. “We need to talk. This whole thing between the two of you is ridiculous. You’re a mess, she’s a mess…”

Her voice trails off into nothing more than the annoying pitch of a fly. Logan can’t be bothered to listen to her scold him. He’s not a fucking kid, and maybe if you were acting like an adult, they wouldn’t be having this problem. 

A few doors down he can hear you shouting, then the door to your room slams open. He darts off his bed, opening his own door to see what you’re doing. He only sees the back of your head as you angrily stomp down the stairs. 

Enough is fucking enough, he was finishing this now. He was sick of your side of the bed being empty and the stupid fucking glare on your face every time you saw him. He doesn’t even bother saying anything to Jean as he leaves, just chases after you. 

Jean watches him go with a perturbed look. She steps out of the room and glances down the hall. Ororo steps out of your room and walks towards her. “Well?” Jean probes. 

Ororor shrugs, “She’s over it.” Jean smiles but it’s quickly wiped off her face by Ororo’s expression. “Not in the way we wanted.

Jean clenches her eyes shut and takes in a deep breath. She needs you two to figure your shit out or she’s never going to be able to get a good night’s sleep again.

You find yourself in the gym. It’s not your favorite place in the world, you don’t usually get to train with the others. You’re stuck with telepaths, mainly the ones who can shut your powers down if you get too out of control. That hasn’t been a problem since you got the cuffs, but you’ve been too sad to test them out. 

Now you find yourself obliterating a punching bag. You wrap the energy around your fists and let it protect the thin skin as you pummel into the bag. You don’t know what else to do. You can’t have energy meltdowns anymore. You have to try and funnel it all out physically, but it’s not working. Nothing is. 

“Imagining it’s me?” You pause midswing. You glance over to the door just in time to see Logan stalking towards you. He unzips his jacket slowly. So slowly it almost seems provocative. He tugs it off and tosses it onto a nearby bench. 

You scoff as you watch him. “Do you ever have a shirt on?”

He shrugs and moves towards the ring in the middle of the gym. His movements are lithe and fluid as he hops onto the ring, every bit a wild animal. You watch as the muscles in his torso ripple and force your eyes off of him. You try and focus your attention back on the bag, but all your earlier energy is gone. Your mind is completely wrapped around Logan. 

Which you’re sure is exactly what he wants, or he wouldn’t be staring at you so smugly as he leans against the ropes and waits for you to acknowledge him. You suck on your teeth, irritation blooming in sporadic bursts throughout your body that has you nearly shaking. Finally, you give in. 

He smirks the second your eyes meet, “I can take it, sweetheart. A lot better than that little toy of yours can.” He nods towards the punching bag but the insinuation isn’t lost on you. You and Logan had been very active in your relationship. You could barely go a day without tasting each other. 

You’ve been pent up since the breakup. You’d given in a few days ago, pulled out your old vibrator, and tried to bring even a semblance of joy back into your life. But nothing could compare to Logan. 

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he waits for you to react. He’s standing there, staring down at you with all the surety in the world that you’re going to fuck him. It makes you want to dig your nails in and rip him apart, bit by bit. 

You can already picture it in your mind, using your abilities to pick him apart until he’s nothing but molecules dispersed through the air. He’s lucky you have the cuffs on, without them you’re sure he’d already be dead. 

You smirk and move towards the edge of the ring, your voice drops as you purr up at him, “You wanna play, Logan?”

He grins and moves off the ropes, starting towards you as you make your way onto the ring. You’re slightly less graceful than he was, but you’re too focused on wiping the smug look off his face to pay attention. “Come on kid,” he taunts, voice as low as it usually is when he’s fucking into you. “Let’s see what you got.”

You’re not stupid enough to just outright swing at him. You feint to the right and bring your knee up into his ribs. He only needs one hand to wrap around your thigh and drag you forward. His other hand goes to your hip, tugging you closer until you’re practically grinding against each other. You grit your teeth and glare up at him. 

“Come on, sweetheart, that can’t be all you got for me.” Energy wraps around your head, blurring the air around you. You slam your temple against his, it provides enough of a distraction for you to yank your leg out of his grip. You throw your right fist into his ear, bouncing back with a grin as he shakes his head. 

He practically growls as he reorients himself. You shrug and smirk, “What, don’t tell me that’s all you got, wolvie.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” he grumbles. You open your mouth, prepared to taunt him again. But he’s lunging towards you and you just barely have enough time to dart out of his way. You know he’s going easy on you. He could have had you just then if he really wanted this. 

But he’s dragging this out. Forcing you to spend as much time with him as you can. It only pisses you off further. You plant your foot on his back and kick him forward. He barely even stumbles and it only further confirms your suspicions. “Stop fucking holding back,” you yell at him. 

He turns around slowly. You almost expect there to be a sneer on his face, something angry. Instead, he looks fucking thrilled, like this is all just foreplay for him. He laughs, so low you can barely hear it, and his chest flexes as his claws come out. 

“You sure?” It’s a taunt, a dare, he knows you aren’t going to take the bait. You’d be stupid to, you don’t heal like he does. Once those things get in you, you’re screwed. But right now, you’re too pissed off to try and care. 

You don’t say anything, you just duck under his fist as he swings at you. You know he made it easy for you, giving you an opening to fall into. He’s treating you like you’re something fragile. And maybe you are. One wrong move in this fight and you might not make it through the night. But anger is making you blind to logic. 

Him playing fair just makes you want to play dirty. You use the opening he gives you, letting energy form around your fist and pulling back just enough to slam into his ribs. He coughs, doubling over as you hear bones crack under your hit. He’ll heal in seconds, you can’t bring yourself to feel too bad for him. 

Maybe if he ever took you seriously you might not be such a bitch. But he didn’t think you were good enough to be honest with and he still was treating you like a plaything. In your opinion, he deserves whatever you give him and more. He doubles over and you swing your leg around, bringing it down across his face. 

You hear a crack as your socked foot connects with his face, something crunches underneath you. And when your sole hits the mat again you see the blood leaking from his nose. You almost apologize. Almost, then you see the look on his face. His pupils are swallowing the hazel of his eyes, lips parted as he pants through his teeth. He looks fucking animalistic. 

You have no warning as he pounces on you. His lips smother your own, moving over you with little to no grace. There’s nothing romantic or gentle about this. His fingers are digging so hard into your shirt, you’re sure you hear the seams rip. But you can’t bring yourself to care. 

One of your hands goes to his hair, tugging at the roots until he’s groaning into your mouth. You rake your nails up his back roughly. He cusses against your lips, hand traveling up to your chin so he can roughly jerk you back. 

He stares down at you, a silent question on his face. You’ve barely nodded before he’s descending upon you again. Lips and teeth clash borderline painfully as he lowers you onto the mat. You’re missing all the usual love and tenderness he treats you with, but you don’t care. 

You want to be rough. You want to hurt him like he hurt you, make him ache for you the way you do him. You wrap your legs around his, lifting your pelvis until you have enough leverage to flip him. Your thighs straddle his waist and you grind down against the prominent bulge in his sweatpants. 

He groans into your open mouth, large palms grabbing at your ass and spreading you so he can thrust between your clothed thighs. You can’t help but moan at the friction. It’s just enough to keep you on edge, he pulls back every time you think you might be close to something real building. 

You rip your mouth off his. He glares up at you as you grab his hair and yank his head back. You slam his head hard enough into the mat for it to echo through the room and he growls against your grip. You grin down at him as you slowly get off him. You make a show of stripping, enjoying the way his eyes track your movements. He looks like a dog, panting and waiting for his treat. 

You’re tempted to get yourself off, making him watch, and then leave him straining against his sweatpants. But you need this bad, need him to scratch the itch you can’t reach so you can finally get him out of your head. Neither of you are patient as he jerks his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to pop out. 

It’s already leaking from the tip like a faucet. You kneel, straddling his waist again. You don’t have to do much to slick him up. You pump him a few times before he’s gripping your wrist and jerking your hand away. “Get up here,” he commands, voice rough as he grips your hips. You don’t even get a chance to protest before he’s flipping you over. 

He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his waist. Your ass is off the ground, hovering above his lap as he lines up with your slit. You moan when the tip rubs against your clit. “Whose teasing now?” You grit out, glaring at him. 

His lips curl up, that insufferable smirk on his face before he slams into you. The attitude is practically fucked out of you as he starts pumping in and out. You groan, raking your hands down his chest. He fucking moans at the pain, blood blooming under your nails and immediately closing the further down you go. 

Neither of you are giving up this fight, you don’t want to lose, not even while you’re fucking. He pulls out of you and flips you over so fast you don’t even have time to whine. He’s back in you before you can blink, hips slapping into you in a way that you know is going to leave bruises tomorrow. You’re not going to be able to sit for a week and he knows it. His hands are groping at the skin of your ass, pulling you apart and watching the skin ripple as he fucks into you. 

You’re not going to last long. You’ve been too desperate, too pent up while you’ve been pissed off at him. He leans over you, draping himself across you lazily. You groan at the added weight, it only adds to the sensation, only makes you want him deeper inside you. “Thought you didn’t want me anymore, sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear and you flutter around him as his hand snakes around your waist, rubbing tight circles on your clit. 

You open your mouth but all that comes out is disjointed moans. You know there’s something sarcastic in there, and he must know too because he laughs at your pathetic mumbled sentence. “I don’t know,” he leans back and watches as he makes room for himself inside you. “Seem to need me real bad now.”

Your nails dig into the mat, energy leaking through your fingertips and warming up the canvas beneath you. You can feel it fluctuating, fighting against the cuffs the closer he brings you to the edge. “Fuck you,” the words escape you at a particularly deep thrust and you struggle to keep your eyes open. 

He pauses and you nearly cry at the loss of movement. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you. What’d you say? Stop?”

You glare over your shoulder at him  “Don’t you fucking dare, Logan.” You let your power push up against his back, forcing his hips to move again. He chuckles at the move, fingers creating figure eights on your nub. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he protests, voice innocent. “Ah, fuck,” his voice is nothing more than low grunts and groans in your ear the closer the both of you get to your release. You can’t speak anymore, can’t think. You can feel it cresting higher and higher inside you. 

Your abilities are rising with your release. They’re pushing against the cuffs, fighting desperately against the control the foreign metal has on your powers. You can feel it, heat building up under your skin, like a tingling on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t reach. It’s Logan’s release that finally tips you over the edge. 

The way his breath catches and his hips stutter in their perfect rhythm as warmth floods you from the inside out. You can feel it, him, dribbling down your thighs and staining the mat beneath you. It has you clenching around him, pushing your hips back weakly while you let the feeling overwhelm you. You nearly black out. Two weeks without him hadn’t felt long until you remembered what you were missing. 

You lose your sense of time, dropping to the mat like your bones have gone liquid, dripping out of you. You can feel Logan draped over you still, his weight a comforting blanket that nearly has you drifting to sleep. Naked, in the middle of the boxing ring. He pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss. 

He shushes you, rubbing a hand up your spine and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your temple. He wraps his arms around you, laying down and pulling you back into his chest. It takes a few minutes of quiet cuddling for you to remember what exactly led you down to the gym in the first place. 

You feel disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. It’s clear what his plan had been. And you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. You’d barely even fought against him. Of course, you could reason that you needed to get the tension out. This was the perfect way to funnel out your built-up energy. 

But you’re disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. You just disregarded dignity and self-respect for a chance to get him between your legs. You were such a fucking idiot. No wonder this is all he wanted you for. 

“Shit,” you mutter, trying to pull yourself out of his grip. Your eyes widen as his arms tighten around your waist. He tugs you back down until he’s got you in what essentially feels like a headlock. He could easily pass it off as spooning, but it feels a little more demanding than that. “Logan,” you warn, the silent peace of the moment officially shattered. 

“Don’t,” he gripes. You can fight against him for as long as you want, but you’ll only tire yourself out. His arms are literally metal bands around you. “Let me talk and then you can run off.” You huff and wait, but he never speaks. Finally, you look over your shoulder and glare at him. “Well?”

You roll your eyes, “Fuck’s sake,” you mutter. “Alright, speak.”

You can feel his grin against the back of your head. If he didn’t have you in such a tight grip, you’d elbow him in the gut just to be petty. “I made a mistake,” you scoff and he keeps going. Stopping you from interrupting him with something bitchy. “You weren’t just something convenient to me, sweetheart.” he pauses and chuckles, “You’re a huge fucking pain in my ass.”

“Is this your idea of an apology?” You snap, “Because this is pathetic.” 

He doesn’t say anything and you’re tempted to snark at him again. But then the world is flipped on its side as he jerks you around and forces you to face him. Your chests rub together, the sweaty skin sticking together and bordering on uncomfortable. “You ever shut up?” He asks, but there’s no heat to the words. If anything he looks fond of you, and it makes you shift around, trying not to look him in the eye. But there’s nowhere for you to hide, you’re both naked and bare before each other. 

You’re as physically vulnerable as he must feel emotionally. And as much as this is a horrible way to display how he’s feeling, you’re starting to understand him a little better. You know why this conversation is so hard for him, why he can’t accept that someone truly loves him and he loves her back. 

But that’s not going to get him out of it. He’s still yet to say the words. Maybe if he manned up and said something real you’d consider forgiving him. You give him an expectant look and he sighs, forehead pressed against yours as he slumps over you. You want to pretend you’re annoyed at the contact, but you’ve been craving it since you ran away two weeks ago.

You’ve been desperate for this warmth that only he can provide you. Without realizing it, you nuzzle further into his chest, hands drifting up to wrap around his bare waist. Logan feels the tightness in him ease slightly at the way you curl into him. He’s got a shot, even if you try and tell him he doesn’t.  

It’s silent for a while, while you linger in the emotions of what just happened and he tries to find the right words. He leans down, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and smiling against the shell of your ear. “I love you,” he whispers. 

You’d told yourself you’d only consider forgiving him if he said those words. But that’s only because you’d never thought he would actually say it. You didn’t think he was capable of admitting that to himself. It seems so out of character for him. But, maybe, you don’t know him as well as you thought you did. 

He pulls back, hand landing on your jaw and gently guiding your head out of his neck. He gives you an expectant look but you’re finding it hard to meet his eyes. You’ve been waiting for him to say that, but now it feels like you can’t. You’re still struggling to forgive him. He put you through so much unnecessary hurt just because he couldn’t face his own feelings. 

And now you’re struggling to do the same. “I want to say it back,” you tell him. “But how am I supposed to trust that the next time things get hard, you won’t lash out again?”

He frowns, an irritated huff of breath shooting out his nose. But you know it’s frustration towards himself. For letting you both get to this point because he couldn’t just say three words. “I’ll wait,” he promises. “For as long as it takes, I’ll wait.” 

You smile and nod, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his neck. You’re sure you’ll be saying it sooner rather than later. But what’s the harm in making him squirm a little? He deserves it. 

A/N: I don’t write smut, it’s literally in my rules. I think I stared at a gif of him for too long and some horny ass demon possessed me and made me write this. Forgive me, universe, I’m no better than a man.

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.