#x1 x reader fluff

[halaboyz]

lost times, seungyoun

(ex) bf! cho seungyoun x gn! reader angst, breakup au wc: 3.3k warnings: none that i know of a/n: I MISS MY BABY AND I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANY ANGST FOR HIM SO !

"Youn, baby, what time do you get off work?" You coo through the phone, smiling as you fixed your things. "I just got off mine, I was planning on asking you out if you'll be out early,"

"Ah..." Seungyoun sighs, and you instantly knew what it meant.

"Overtime again?" You smile drops, pouting. "I can't do anything about that, then," You press your lips to a thin line, stepping out of the company building to look at the sky. What a waste, the weather was perfect today.

"I'm sorry. I'll be home late again, so make sure you lock the door and sleep tight," You nod at no one in particular, humming in response.

"Just make sure you have your Saturday night free for me," You remind, and you hear him chuckle.

"Of course, that's our fourth year anniversary. Would miss anything for that night,"

"Okay, then. Get working," You smile again hearing his response, bidding goodbye. "I'm going home now, I'll just send you a text when I do. Please get some rest when you can, and don't overwork! Just work how much you're paid," You joke around, ending the call after you get a response.

Your smile still drops after you hear the call ending, though. It was such a beautiful night, neither cold or hot, streets weren't as crowded as weekend nights, and you were still on your best condition.

But that's alright. For Seungyoun, it was alright. You understand that he's doing a lot more work than usual due to employee promotion right at the corner.

Yet you can't help the feeling of another night of surging in the loneliness as you walk home, wind gushing right through your face. It wasn't cold nor hot, but it was chilly for you. You had another night to yourself, with no one to hold on to, and no one to lean on to.

The feeling worsens when you realize that because of the good weather, a lot more couples were walking around, lovey-dovey and touchy while being in their own world. You can be like that too. You know you could be like that too.

If only he had given you the same amount of attention he did with his work.

If only he had prioritized you as well. You're not asking for much, you don't even ask to prioritize you more than his work. Just as much as his work. Just as much as he promised you when he gave you a promise ring.

To make you happy in all ways.

So how could you be so down now for a few weeks straight already?

Look, you're not hanging on him like he's your lifeline-- but who would be okay with only seeing your live-in boyfriend when you're lucky you're still awake by the time he's home? Or lucky when you wake up before he does to go to work? Or when the world's upside down and he actually has a day off?

"So... he's not your boyfriend." And when you actually, finally, open this up to someone, your bestfriend Yibo, he hits you with his words so bluntly.

"What part did you miss, Yibo? He's your friend too," You roll your eyes, not getting into his sarcasm.

"He's basically just your roommate," He scoffs, putting his drink down.

"I, for sure, shouldn't have asked you to hang," You mumble, nibbling your fries.

"Well, I guess the night was too young and pretty to pass up on," He gets one of your fries and pops it into his mouth, "If this was going on for so long, how come you're only telling me now?"

"It was our problem, of course we had to solve it,"

"How come you're solving it alone then?" He points out, grit in his tone of voice, anxious to make you get his point. "You see, what's the point of having a boyfriend if your life is as is? It's literally just more problems, isn't it?"

"Yibo," You sternly call out, making him sigh and nod.

"Okay, fine," He tries to calm you down, "I just don't really get it, y/n. He's not doing you any better. You try to work it out, but he's not even there! So what's the point?" His ted talk was short, but critical to you. It was what you needed, his bluntness. He wasn't going to sugarcoat things for you, to be able to lift yourself up from drowning. "You're my friend, he's my friend. I want the best for the both of you and if it means being better all together or not, I am going to vote on that,"

You were both silent for a few minutes before a call breaks it, vibrating in your pocket. You take it out to look at the caller ID, showing it to him.

"I'll go to the washroom real quick, take that."

You sigh, smiling at him then at the phone, actually wondering if you answer it or not. Your thumb glides to answer it anyway, whipping the phone to your ear.

"Hey, baby," You hum, ever so sweetly.

"Oh hey love," Seungyoun calls you through the phone, hearing papers being tossed. "I was just wondering if you're home yet. You haven't texted,"

"Oh, right. Sorry, I asked Yibo to hang tonight. The weather was too nice to pass on," You took Yibo's words to say and repeat, shaking your head. "Sorry. I forgot to send you a text. Are you done with work?"

"I actually am, where are you? Maybe I can drop by and get you," The slightest hope was what keeps you going. What keeps you holding. The slightest efforts, the slightest trying to make it better. You smile, now a genuine one, propping up your seat as you see Yibo walking out of the washroom and back to the table.

"Wait for me there, I'll go there." You mumble, not wanting Yibo to hear it but he had elephant ears. You hear Seungyoun chuckle when he hears your excitement, mumbling a "Love you, stay safe." before ending the call.

"Come on," Yibo grunts, seeing your smile slowly go bigger and bigger. "Okay, whatever. But don't tell me I didn't talk to you about this,"

"I'll make sure to talk to him about this, too, Yibo. Don't worry! I'll get going now," You rush out of the table, side hugging him. "This is my treat!"

Walking to Seungyoun's company wasn't long, but you sure took your time. You've thought a lot on the walk, Yibo's words lingering in your mind.

"Hey baby," You shake your head to forget all about it just this night, seeing Seungyoun patiently waiting for you outside his company. You hop to his side, giving him a big warm hug.

"Baby," Seungyoun whispers as he burrows himself in the crook of your neck, finding home in your scent and warmth. "Missed you,"

"Missed me? We brushed each other this morning," You chuckle, breaking the hug to take a good look on his face. Initially, you were still up in offering a walk down the road, but the tired look on his face makes you rethink.

"Literally. Brushed. When I was leaving you just got out of bed," Seungyoun pouts, squinting at you. "Don't tell me you didn't miss me,"

"I bet I missed you more," You challenge, confidently raising your shoulders. He laughs wholeheartedly, taking you into his arms again with a sigh of contentment. You caress his back, melting into his arms. "Let's go home?" You feel him shake his head, staying a bit longer in your arms as you both stay like that in silence.

"Don't you wanna go for a walk? Or do you wanna go somewhere?"

See? It's the little things, little efforts that Seungyoun does to keep you on your toes. That keeps you from leaving. The little trying to be better for you. You smile, cupping his red cheeks. You stare a little longer, slowly shaking your head.

"It's fine, we can go home now. We're both tired," You try and assure him, thumb rubbing his cheeks to keep it warm.

" Did you have too much fun with Yibo? Should I get jealous?" Seungyoun makes you snort when his reply leaves his lips, pressing his cheeks together as he raises his eyebrows.

"Are you crazy? I literally left Yibo for you." It was true. The moment his call connected, you knew you were going to come running for him anyway. "Besides, I don't wanna tire you out when we can rest the night as early as we can, right?"

Seungyoun smiles as he gently places his palm over your cheeks as well, rubbing his thumbs over it.

"Okay." He finally agrees, walking hand in hand as you walk down the road to your humble abode. You spent the night cuddling and sleeping in each other's arms, or at least he did.

You were up all night rethinking all of Yibo's words, and Seungyoun's broken promises.

You shuffle around your sheets as you stretch around your bed, trying to find some warmth that your sheets can't give you. When you reach out beside you, it was already empty. You sigh. Like any other day.

When you look at your phone, you realize you've only been asleep for an hour and had some time to stare at the ceiling once again.

"Missed him," Like, literally both meanings of miss.

Do you even deserve any of this? You ask yourself for the nth time. It wasn't even since last night, or since Yibo talked to you. It was since the day you first felt so empty. The day you were alone, lonely, and empty, and Seungyoun wasn't there to console you, comfort you. And not that he wasn't able to, he just chose not to. Picking work over you, that god time whoever even invented overtime, he did it again.

Do you deserve sitting alone in the corner of your shared apartment, feeling alone, lonely, empty once again, even though there were signs of life of Seungyoun every inch of the apartment? Where there were hundreds of picture frames either hanging or standing ever so proudly on top of tables, pictures of when you were both still on your prime time?

Do you deserve crying, oh so god help you, exhausted and unaware of the time quickly passing through the whole day of your day off?

Did you deserve it?

"Baby, I'm home..." You hear Seungyoun enter the bedroom doors, shuffling to finally get in bed after a whole (and extra) day of working in his office. You quickly shut your eyes to pretend sleep, feeling him squat beside the bed on your side and look at you.

His warm palm rubs your cheeks that were red from all the crying wiping you did all day, noticing your puffed eyes also. He sighed, knowing that there was something going on again and you haven't had the leisure to share it with him. Of course, he was unaware that it was because of his absence due to work.

Because if you had a problem, you wouldn't mind sharing it with him anytime, right?

"I love you baby, good night." He whispers, landing a peck in your forehead and heading to the bathroom to wash himself up before actually diving into your warmth.

But for some reason, it was too cold for the both of you.

You, having to skip bedtime due to your muffled sobs, hopping out of bed to avoid waking Seungyoun up and continuing your breakdown in the dark living room. And Seungyoun, having to reach at the side of the bed to continuously find your warmth.

Only did he realize that there really was something wrong when you don't come back to the bed and he wakes up groggy because of it.

Until he has to leave. Again.

He watches you stir in your sleep on the couch, hesitating whether to wake you up or just carry you to the bed without having to wake you. He decides on the latter and thankfully, you were on your deep slumber (you weren't) that he didn't need to feel apologetic waking you accidentally.

He sighs as he drinks his morning coffee, watching the dark skies form dark clouds as it prepares to greet the sun. Maybe you were just finding the right time to share everything with him. Maybe that was it.

Until he continues to hear your helpless sobs outside the bedroom doors for a few more sleepless nights, and he knew it. He finally knew, he finally realized.

Of course it was about him. About the two of you. That's why you weren't able to share anything with him at all, and how you avoided him for a few nights already by having to sleep early or continue to sleep unbothered when he carries you from the couch to the bed.

Or hasn't it been always that way?

That when he arrives home, it is always too late in the night that you don't have any other choice but to sleep, because how can you wait for him when you have your work yourself too? That when he has to leave at literally dawn, of course, you were still sleeping soundly until he's gone?

Has it always been this way? Has he? Was he prioritizing things wrong? Is he doing something wrong?

Is there something wrong?

But the fact that you knew that he knew you were sobbing endlessly at night when he feigns sleep, the fact that you knew that he knew that he was leaning just at the other side of the door of the bedroom, waiting for your sobs to stop and leave when he has to leave, the fact that you knew he knew there was something wrong, but did nothing but avoid it and avoid talking about it and avoid you...

Finally, was your last straw.

And it was your fourth anniversary.

For the first time in ages, he's left his office desk while the sun was still there, peeking at the horizon while it prepares to go down, and he's hesitant of how the rest of the night will become.

You haven't talked to him after that night you cuddled each other, but he had to leave early again, as always, and the next night was your absolutely not first night of crying of the many.

He dropped by somewhere before he had no idea where he was headed next, because oh god he didn't even have the time to plan anything, and you haven't even texted or called or showed your face to hi pm the whole day.

Okay, home it was. At least he was positive that you were going to be there.

Both of you should be fine by now, right? You could at least talk it all out tonight, right? Make things right.

He fiddled with the velvety box he had tucked so deep in his pockets, heading home with a heavy chest and a sigh.

"Baby," He picks up a smile, removing his shoes and heading inside to find you, only to be welcomed with the coldest air he has ever felt in his life. His eyes wander around, feet busy to search every room for you, until you are both in the kitchen, meeting eye to eye.

You had a glass of water in your hand, puffy red eyes and dressed up. Oh, you weren't dolled up for a date. You were just... simply dressed up, like, about to leave.

"Y/n."

"Seungyoun, can we talk?" You try to pull a smile, which ends up being way worse than you could imagine as it immediately drops, sitting at the four seater dining table that felt so much longer and far away from Seungyoun.

Finally. A talk.

"Happy fourth year anniversary, baby." Seungyoun starts, trying to reach for your enclosed hand on top of the table but your hands timidly retreat before even falling for his warmth all over again. He feels discouraged and embarrassingly draws back as well, heaving a sigh as both of his hands intertwine in shame.

He knew what was coming and was afraid of it. It wasn't what he was expecting, if he could be in denial of it until his last breath, he will be.

Silence. there was nothing between you, no exchanged words but longing stares, enveloped in silence, and foreseen tension.

"Youn," You call out, but rather than his eyes staying at you, it goes down to his hands. He cannot see you like this. It breaks him how much it breaks you to even open the conversation up. "Youn..." You whine, tears already forming and quickly escaping your eyes in vain.

"Do we really have to talk about this now? Tonight? A special night?" He exasperatingly sighs, frowning and almost scowling at you, yet he still denies any eye contact.

"Would you even have any time for that? When you don't even have time to ask me if I'm okay?" You rebut, voice slightly raising. "I've been having sleepless nights, drowning myself in my own tears and my own thoughts every night you're soundly sleeping, and you don't even ask how I am?"

Exhaustion was evident in your eyes as you begged for an answer. Sobs were already heaving out of you, but it doesn't make him budge.

"Let's..." You sigh out, realizing he's not even putting up a fight. You ease the promise ring out of your finger, setting it gently on the table. "...stop whatever this is, Cho Seungyoun."

When you played around with your finger and got the ring out only did Seungyoun look at you in horror. He thought he could talk you out of this. He was doing all of this for you now, wasn't he? Wasn't he doing enough? Didn't he show you enough?

"I don't see any reason in staying, Seungyoun. If I said I'm sorry for leaving like this... then it wouldn't prove anything I thought and did for you so I'm not going to ask forgiveness at all." You have finally calmed down, but your tears haven't. It was falling continuously like a river, and you were too tired to even wipe it.

God knows how much Seungyoun wanted to wipe it off himself. The last thing he wanted, the thing he'd beat anyone to a pulp if you did- cry, was something he'd take to the grave. It would let him haunt himself through his remaining years because he did that.

How could he even?

"Baby..." He tried, a late cover up for all his shortcomings, finally giving up his ego and trying to reach for your hand. You let him, caressing your hands in desperation. You both cry in anguish, in pain. Like the both of you were set up in torture the next day.

You sob helplessly, letting your head drop to try and catch your breath to no avail.

"Baby please," He calls out, "Hmm?" Trying to convince you with a death grip and a smile, but you shake your head.

"I should go," You stand up, letting his hand fall to the table with a thud. When his hand met the table, he knew it indeed was the end. "I wish you the best, Youn. You've been great, we have been. It just fell short,"

He looks down in shame, letting his hand stay in place where you left it.

Because maybe, maybe you'd come back, right?

You will, right?

But when he realizes that he was waiting for nothing, hours passed and in the middle of his lonely, cold night, he wakes himself up in reality.

He's done you wrong, and you made the right decision leaving. You didn't deserve that, but did he?

He reaches for the envelope and the velvety box in his pocket, staring at it.

A promotion letter and a notice of increased pay, and of course, an engagement ring.

He now had everything he wanted- for him and for you. But at what cost?

[restlessmaknae]

journey of heartbreak // woodz

The greatest muse of all is heartbreak.

➳ Characters: singer & songwriter!Seungyoun x female reader/you

➳ Genre: angst, heartbreak au, slice of life

➳ Words: 1.7k

➳ Warning: - (let me know if there are any!)

➳ A/N: I know this is my second angst WOODZ story and overall my third story with him, but I feel like angst really suits him because of his songs. Major inspiration for this was the mentioned songs at the beginning of each part and his Paris vlog. ❤️

Also, this is just a work of fiction, the Seungyoun in the story isn't the same as the Seungyoun in real life despite portraying him as a musician.

➳ Taglist: @dat-town, @s00buwu

Drowning

“Do you believe in loving someone forever?”

“I believe in it, but I don’t believe that it always means staying together forever. Love changes, its quantity, its quality, the way you love someone, and sometimes loving is letting go, sometimes loving is holding on.”

Seungyoun recalled your conversation with him, swimming into his unconscious, as he was looking out the window of his studio, wondering where you could be and what you could be doing. While he was stuck on the first chords of a new song, you might be finishing work, you might be doing grocery shopping, or you might be holding another man’s hand while walking under the blanket of freshly fallen snow.

The latter thought stirred up some ugly feeling inside of him, and as it was twisting, turning into something that resembled missed chances and gawking regret, he was drumming on the notebook with his fingers, trying to pacify his ever changing thoughts and contrasting feelings. One moment, he was absolutely losing his mind, the lack of your presence killing him from the inside, squeezing his heart and burning his lungs. A second later, he was raging, mad at you for leaving him behind, your usual ray of sunshine only bringing a cold shower on him ever since.

How could you leave him? How could you walk away from him while wishing the best for him, saying that he would be better off without you? You still loved him, you told him yourself, and he still loved you, so why couldn’t it be easier to stay?

“Believe me, it’s been really hard for me to come to this decision, but I can’t keep on doing this. As much as I love when we can spend time together, I can’t forget about the times we’re apart, and it’s been killing me,” you had told him with tears streaming down your face, and Seungyoun had felt himself tearing up.

He knew that he couldn’t ask you to understand the world he was living in with the messed up tour schedules, the nights spent in his studio whenever inspiration hit him, the irregular texts and cut off calls, sometimes being half a world apart and other times being snuggled up against his chest in your apartment, listening to the cacophony of his heartbeat. He knew that he couldn’t, and yet… wasn’t he trying his best, wasn’t he trying enough to make it work whenever you had the chance to be together?

Seungyoun was sitting there in his chair, windows closed, doors closed, heart closed, and felt like he was drowning. That feeling when someone was fighting for air when their lungs were on fire, that feeling when someone wanted to reach the surface of the safe and sound and the known, that feeling when gravity was pulling them downwards but they wanted to fight to stay upwards… he was feeling all of this, all at once, magnified by the serenity of the world around him. How could everything be so serene and picturesque when he was in the middle of a storm?

He grabbed the page of the notebook he was working on and tore it off. Then, he crumpled it and threw it into the trash bin, becoming yet another victim of his lack of inspiration. More precisely, his overwhelming frustration. One paper followed another, and just like the snowdrops that were accumulating on the ground outside of the building, his crumpled pages were soon piled up and covering one another.

He wished he could just hide under them forever.

Picasso

“Where do you take inspiration from?”

“I take inspiration from everything, basically. It can be a movie, a quote that popped up on my social media one day, a couple I saw strolling on the streets or my own feelings that I’m trying to decipher.”

Even if Seungyoun was going through one of the most transformative phases of his life, inspiration just didn’t come to him. Whenever he tried to pick up a pen and write a few lines of lyrics, he got stuck and it made him so mad that he immediately crumpled the paper and threw it out. Whenever he tried to go back to an old song of his, he just wasn’t feeling it anymore, so no more words were written for them either.

So after two months of not being able to start or finish any song, let alone continue writing a song about how good it felt to be in love when he was the furthest from that feeling, he decided to have a little change of scenery, and booked himself an impromptu trip to Paris. He hoped that it would help to be away from the city he knew all too well, from the streets where he used to stroll with you, from the cafés where you used to sit. He hoped that by going somewhere far away, he would stop thinking about you, and how much he missed you, and how much he wished he could turn back time because he knew he had been at fault, too. He couldn’t just continue blaming only you. It would have been easier, of course, but now he was trying to see things from your perspective instead of his own, and he started to realise where it had gone wrong.

So off he went. He had been to Paris a few times before for concerts, but he had never stayed too long. This time though, he didn’t buy a return ticket, he just went. As he was sitting in a café, slurping on a way too hot espresso, he suddenly remembered that you used to say that you would love to visit Paris one day, but it had never worked out when he had been touring there.

“Sitting in a place that we would have wanted to visit together alone…” Seungyoun mumbled to himself, watching the city wrapped up in its rain coat, sunshine hardly peaking through the clouds, his heart shivering with the cold temperature.

Then, he grabbed a pen from his bag and got out his notebook, quickly scribbling down the sentence he had just said out loud. Then another and another… He stopped to take a few more sips from his coffee, but he kept going, feeling this surge of energy going through his body, his brain working super fast, his hands even faster. He wasn’t even thinking about the words anymore, he just kept going with his feelings, and they took him to his first song in months. His first, finished song in months about how you could turn his pain into art, and how he wished he weren’t your muse.

Raindrops accumulated in a pebble under his feet while working, but Seungyoun didn’t care. Even though winter never seemed to last as long as the last one did, now, he felt like spring was oozing out from underneath him, and he yearned for the change of scenery, for the change of weather, for the change of his feelings.

Even if it meant that he had to write all of his feelings into songs to get over you, he wanted to keep going. He would have even run through a burning building for you, so what were a few songs?

He wished he could get lost in them forever.

Happy For You

“Why did you title your new album ‘Journey of Heartbreak’?”

“It’s because I’ve realised that heartbreak isn’t like happiness. You can’t just accept it and feel it, and then move on. Heartbreak is a journey, and even acceptance is difficult, moving on is even more so. Overcoming heartbreak can be a few days for some people, but I think more people need many many more days to overcome it.”

“What’s your favourite song on the album?”

“ ‘Happy For You’. It’s the last song on the album, and it’s about wishing someone happiness even though you ended things. It’s about realising that there comes a time when you’re happy for them, and don’t wish anything bad on them.”

“Your fans absolutely love the new album, and the critics praise the clever structure of it, the songs corresponding to the phases of heartbreak. There’s just one question on everyone’s mind after all this: was this album inspired by your own love life, or was it just inspiration from many other things?”

“Well, I will leave that up to everyone’s interpretations.”

As much as Seungyoun struggled to come up with any song after your break-up, the album was put together in merely three months from the first song to the showcase stage. Once he got started on it, he couldn’t stop. It seemed like he had an awful lot to say that had been weighing down on him, and with his forever companions - music sheets and notebooks -, he got them off his chest. One by one, he went through regret, disappointment, fury, guilt, acceptance and even happiness.

He put the songs on the album in the same order he wrote them, that’s why ‘Happy For You’ concluded it. Because when he once saw your smiling picture on social media, announcing that you were promoted at work and had the chance to relocate, he was happy for you. He truly was. On top of that, he also knew that you had previously turned down another relocation offer because you had wanted to stay in Seoul for him. Something that he could never promise you was to stay in one place, yet you were willing to do the same thing for him.

You deserved it, you deserved it so much that he really hoped that you would meet someone new there, and have the life that you always wanted to have.

And right then and there, he realised that he didn’t wish to be a part of it, not anymore, he was fine with being a memory instead.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading my story! I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think in the comments or as reblogs. I always read them and react to them. 🥰

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for WOODZ or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! *-*

[hyper-fixates]

Time After Time

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

Explicit content (18+)

Word count: 15.2k never let me near him again

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Panic. It’s all panic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh. Are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe the professor is awake after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even the Wolverine isn’t an exception. 

━━━━ ● ━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I interrupting something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, so it’s gonna be like that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You suddenly feel very awake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off,” you groan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━

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

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

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

You shoot up, bouncing a little from the momentum.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━ ● ━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

People like us.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I haven’t looked. I promise.” 

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a complete repeat of last time.

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

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

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

━━━━

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

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

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

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

━━━━ ● ━━━━

“Are you fucking Logan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel disoriented. “Wh…how…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What does he want to hear? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Habit, if not resisted, soon becomes necessity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want to be the only one.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━ ● ━━━━

“How’ve you been sleeping?”

“Fine. You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. That’s good. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Always do.”

━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s the idea?” Your voice wavers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then the world is tilting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You probably look like you survived an animal attack.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logan blinks. “You can stay every night.” 

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

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

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

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

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

Logan chuckles against your mouth. “Always.”

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 2003 - i can see us lost in the memory

chapter summary: After searching for answers about his past, Logan comes back to the mansion after finding nothing at Alkali Lake. When he comes back he sees you, the only thing he can remember.

word count: 6.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i skipped x1 (mostly because i felt like i couldn't place reader into the story and have her actually make a change in it) so we're starting with x2! don't worry, next chapter is going to make you sick with tooth rotting fluff

(also thank you for 700 followers!! and happy thanksgiving to those who celebrate! <3)

warnings/tags: follows events of x2 (strays slightly), reader is a mutant with time manipulation powers, reader wears glasses, shy!reader, light violence

series masterlist - chapter 6 → chapter 8, chapter 8.5

Alkali Lake held nothing. No clues, no leads, nothing. And because of that he’s still drifting, unable to remember anything but you.

He’s not sure when the last time he saw you was, he can only remember that he’s had you 5 times and lost you 5 times.

But now… now he has nothing but fragments, barely more than dreams, and a dull ache he can’t ignore, even if he can no longer remember the details. He knows you were there, remembers the way your touch soothed him, the warmth of your voice—and each time he replays those memories, he feels something deeper, sharper, tugging at the places in him that will never mend.

---

Logan opened the doors to the mansion, Rogue walking towards him. “Logan!” She went up to hug him before quickly pulling back.

“You miss me, kid?”

“Not really.” She shook her head sarcastically.

“Hmm. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

“Who’s this?” Logan gestured with his head behind Rogue.

Rogue turned around, “oh, this is Bobby. He’s my- ”

“I’m her boyfriend.” Bobby cut in, shaking Logan’s hand using his ice powers, “call me Ice Man.”

Logan pulled away with a slight scowl, “right. Boyfriend? So how do you guys…?”

Bobby and Rogue shared a look, “well, we’re still working on that.” He said.

“Look who’s come back. Just in time.” Ororo spoke, as she walked down the stairs.

“For what?” Logan questioned.

“We need another babysitter.”

“Babysitter?”

“Nice to see you again, Logan.” Ororo said kindly.

“Hi, Logan.” Jean spoke, announcing herself as she walked down the stairs.

Logan briefly looked her way, “Jean.”

“Uh, I should go and get the jet ready.” Ororo said quietly.

“Yeah, well, it was good to meet you.” Bobby grabbed Rogue’s hand, “come on, let’s go.”

“Bye, Logan. I’ll see- I’ll see you later!” Rogue called out.

Jean walked in front of Logan, “Storm and I are heading to Boston. We won’t be gone long. The professor wants us to track down a mutant who attacked the president.”

“So it was a mutant.” Logan responded.

“You’ll be here when we get back- unless you plan on running off again.”

Logan tilted his head slightly. “Oh, I could—” His words trailed off as he caught sight of you. The stack of papers in your hands wobbled as you came down the stairs, muttering under your breath. He watched you, the tilt of your head as you pushed your glasses back up, the way you carefully balanced the papers in your hands.

You. He knew you. He knew that face, that presence. It hit him like a punch to the gut, an undeniable recognition buried beneath layers of fractured memories. You were the only thing that came back to him clearly in all the chaos. The short-lived lives you had, and every time it ended up with you dead in his arms.

He blinked, processing, as if you’d vanish if he looked away. You glanced up, catching his stare, and you stopped mid-step, eyes widening a little.

“Oh, uh… hi,” you said, awkwardly adjusting your glasses.

“Hi,” he echoed, still staring, as if searching for something familiar in the way you moved.

You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, then tried a smile. “You’re… Logan, right?”

He swallowed, feeling something catch in his throat. “Yeah. Logan.”

Breaking the tension, Scott walked down the stairs, “find what you were looking for, Logan?”

Logan barely acknowledged Scott’s words, his gaze fixed on you. The room, the people around him, the mansion itself—they all blurred, faded, became nothing more than static in the background. He knew you. The only thing he remembered clearly, despite all the fog in his mind, was you.

The stack of papers shifted in your hands as you glanced between him and Scott, your unease clear. It was like you sensed something, too, even if you couldn’t put a finger on it.

“Uh, no, not exactly,” Logan finally replied, his voice gruff, his eyes still on you. “Thought I’d… found something. Guess not.”

Scott didn’t seem too interested in probing. “Well, welcome back. Make yourself at home.”

But Logan barely heard him. He watched as you attempted a shy smile, not quite meeting his eyes. “I… I should go.” You hesitated, lifting the papers as if they’d shield you. “It was nice meeting you, Logan.”

He nodded, his throat dry. “Same.”

You hurried past, your steps soft but quick, almost like you were escaping.

Scott raised an eyebrow at Logan, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t know you were one for the shy ones.”

Logan shot him a look that could’ve split wood, but Scott just shrugged and walked off, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts.

For a moment, Logan debated following you. He’d known you before; he was sure of it. And even if he couldn’t recall the exact details, there was no mistaking the pull he felt, the way his chest tightened just being in your presence. He couldn’t remember much, barely fragments, yet you were a constant. And every time, he’d lost you. Every damn time.

---

After double checking that everyone was out of their rooms, whether taken or already escaped, you made your way to the secret tunnel, hitting the paneled wall as it opened.

You saw Rogue, Bobby, John, and Logan running down the hall. “Go on,” you said, letting the kids go through before you did. You noticed no one behind you as the door slid down, closing.

“Logan!” Rogue called out.

Bobby and John had already started to run down the tunnel while you stayed by the wall, ear pressed against it trying to hear what was happening.

Rogue stayed by you, clearly worried about Logan. You opened the door quietly as Bobby and John came back. It was quiet in the hall, Logan was walking slowly toward the older man as your eyes briefly fluttered shut, pausing the intruders in time.

“Logan, come on. Let’s go.” Rogue yelled out.

“Logan,” you said gently, as he finally turned his head towards the group.

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

“But we won’t.” Rogue responded.

Logan contemplated for a few moments before walking towards you, “go. Keep going.” Logan entered the tunnel as the door closed behind him while you un-paused the men in the hall.

The five of you ran down the tunnel before climbing up a ladder to the garage. “Come on, get in. Get in!” Logan said.

You went to open the passenger door to the back when a large, warm hand landed on your waist, the grip warm and familiar even though you knew you'd never been this close to him before. Your breath hitched, and you glanced over your shoulder, only to meet his intense gaze as he gently nudged you toward the front seat. His hand lingered a second longer than it needed to, his touch almost hesitant, as if he was committing the feel of you to memory.

“Front seat, Y/N,” he murmured.

“R-Right. Thanks,” you stammered, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks as you slid into the passenger seat. He followed, taking his place behind the wheel, while Rogue, Bobby, and John piled into the back.

“This is Cyclops’s car.” Bobby said.

“Oh, yeah?” Logan unsheathed a singular claw, stabbing it into the ignition and turning on the car. The garage doors opened as the car sped out.

“What the hell was that back there?” John finally asked.

“Stryker.” Logan answered. “His name is Stryker.”

“Who is he?” Rogue questioned.

“I can’t remember.” Logan said quietly.

Rogue, after a few moments of silence, took off the dog tags around her wrist, passing them to Logan in the front, “here. This is yours.”

Even though you couldn’t see the kids in the back, you could tell they were uncomfortable with the silence. John leaned forward, “I don’t like uncomfortable silences.”

“What are you doing?” Rogue asked from beside him.

John turned on the radio as music played loudly from the car’s stereo’s, “bye, bye, bye…” Everyone groaned at the loud intrusion as John promptly turned it back off.

But, a small compartment opened, revealing a sleek metal device. “I don’t think that’s the CD player.” John said.

Logan grabbed it, twisting it in his hands. It blipped once, “whoa,” he muttered. Logan looked at John momentarily, “sit back.”

“Where we going?” John asked.

“Storm and Jean are in Boston. We’ll head that way.” Logan answered.

Bobby looked off to the side, “my parents live in Boston.”

“Good.” Logan said.

---

It was morning when you arrived at Bobby’s parents’ house. He unlocked the front door and stepped inside, “mom! Dad! Ronny! Is anybody home?” No one responded, the house was empty. Bobby looked at Rogue, “I’ll try and find you some clothes.” Bobby then looked over at John, who was continuously flicking his lighter open, “don’t burn anything.”

Logan was in the kitchen, trying to get the phone, or comm device he wasn’t sure, to work. He put it to his ear, “hello?” Static crackled over the device, “hello?” Logan asked again. “Come on, Jean. Where are you?”

You had just freshened up a bit when the door opened, Bobby’s family entering the house, looking at Logan in the kitchen with an open beer bottle.

“Hey, Ronny, next time you…” Bobby’s father started, but stopped when he saw Logan. “Who the hell are you?”

“Uh…” Logan pointed at the stairs as Bobby ran down them.

“Bobby…?”

“Honey, aren’t you supposed to be at school?” Bobby’s mother asked. Rogue quietly walked down the stairs.

“Bobby, who is this guy?”

“Uh… this is Professor Logan.” Bobby paused before speaking again, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

Soon, you all ended up in the living area, the kids and Bobby’s parents sitting down on the couch with you and Logan standing in the doorway.

“So, uh, when did you first know you were a… a…” Bobby’s mother trailed off.

“A mutant?” John spoke up, still flicking his lighter open and closed.

“Would you cut that out?” she said.

“You have to understand, we thought Bobby was going to a school for the gifted.” his father spoke.

“Bobby is gifted.” Rogue cut in.

“We know that. We just didn’t realize…”

His mother cut off her husband, “we still love you, Bobby. It’s just… this mutant problem is a little…”

“What mutant problem?” Logan interrupted, leaning against the other side of the doorway as you with his arms crossed.

“…complicated.” she finished.

Bobby’s father spoke again, “what exactly are you a professor of Mr. Logan?”

“Art.”

“Well, you should see what Bobby can do.” Rogue said.

Bobby leaned forward, gently touching his mother’s teacup with one finger as the tea turned to ice.

“Bobby…” his mother trailed off. She flipped the teacup on its side as the ice slid to the plate.

“I can do a lot more than that.”

His mother shakily put the plate and teacup on the glass table as the cat jumped up and started to lick the ice. Bobby’s brother Ronny left the room with a quiet anger.

“Ronny?” His mother called out as he went up the stairs. “This is all my fault.”

John spoke up, “actually, they discovered that males are the ones who carry the mutant gene and pass it on, so it’s his fault.”

A few moments later, the comm device started to beep. “Oh, God…” Logan took the device out of his pocket and started to walk to the sliding door, “it’s for me.”

“Bobby… have you tried… not being a mutant?” His mother asked.

Logan came back inside and locked the sliding door, “we have to go now. Now!”

“Why?” Rogue questioned. “Logan, what’s wrong?”

He walked to the front door, claws extended and you and the kids following to come face to face with police officers on the front lawn, point guns at you.

“Drop the knives and put your hands in the air.” An officer ordered from their right.

“What’s going on here?” Logan muttered.

“Ronny.” Bobby answered, coming to the realization.

“I said, drop the knives!” The officer ordered again.

Glass shattered from inside the house, “turn around! Up against the wall! Up against the wall!” An officer ordered Bobby’s parents, still in the living area.

“This is just a misunderstanding.” Logan said.

“Put the knives down!”

Logan turned to look at the officer, “I can’t. Look,” he raised his arm slowly as the officer fired a shot, straight into Logan’s forehead.

Rogue screamed and you gasped as Logan hit the patio floor.

“All right, the rest of you- on the ground now!” The same officer ordered.

You, Bobby, and Rogue slowly sank to the ground, but John stayed standing.

“Look, kid, I said on the ground!”

“We don’t want to hurt you, kid.” The officer on the other side said.

“You know all those dangerous mutants you hear about on the news?” John flicked open his lighter as you murmured his name, “I’m the worst one.” He blasted fire at the officer who shot Logan, sending him off the patio. He turned and did the same to the woman on the other side, then inside the house at the two officers.

John turned forward, blasting fire at the officers on the front lawn, the car exploding, before doing the same to another police car. A siren sounded down the street, coming to the house, as John blasted another stationary car by the front lawn, throwing the moving car off track. He blasted that car too.

Rogue, on the ground in front of you, took off her white glove and grabbed John’s ankle. The fire in his hands died off as Rogue stopped the fires surrounding the police cars and lawn.

The bullet popped out of Logan’s head as he woke up, the Blackbird slowly landing in the street. Logan stood up, cracking his neck. Bobby and the kids rushed off the stairs first, heading to the jet.

Logan instinctively put a hand on the small of your back, not pushing you or guiding you just… resting there. You took a quick glance up at him before reverting your gaze back to what was ahead of you.

John was the first one to walk up the ramp, and the first one to see Kurt turn in his chair. “Guten tag.” Kurt greeted.

The rest of you got onto the jet, buckling in, “who the hell is this?” Logan asked.

“Kurt Wagner. But in the Munich circus, I was known as the Incredible Nightcrawler.”

“As, save it. Storm?”

“We’re out of here.” The engines powered up as the ship jerked slightly while taking off.

---

“How far are we?” Logan asked, walking up behind Jean’s chair.

“We’re actually coming up on the mansion now.” Jean replied, as the console started to beep.

“I’ve got two signals approaching.” Ororo said, “coming in fast.”

“Unidentified aircraft, you are ordered to descend to 20,000 feet. Return with our escort to Hanscom Air Force Base. You have ten seconds to comply.”

“Wow, somebody’s angry.” Ororo commented.

Logan looked back at John, “I wonder why.”

“We are coming up alongside you to escort you to Hanscom Air Force Base. Lower your altitude now.” The two planes come up on both sides of the jet, “repeat-lower your altitude to 20,000 feet. This is your last warning.”

The planes started to fly behind, “they’re falling back.” Ororo spoke. Rapid beeping sounded out from the console. “They’re marking us.”

“What?” Logan asked.

“They’re going to fire! Hang on!” Ororo started to fly the jet in a defensive position as they buckled into their seats. “I got to shake them.”

The jet briefly flew upside down then righted itself, “please don’t do that again.” John said.

“I agree.” Logan remarked. “Don’t we have any weapons in this heap?”

The sky started to darken as dark clouds formed, quickly turning into tornadoes. The jet started to shake from the heavy winds as Ororo tried getting the two planes off their tails.

Once their radar was clear, Ororo stopped, the sky brightening back to its natural state.

“Everybody okay back there?” Jean questioned.

“No,” Logan answered simply.

Rapid beeping sounded out from the console once again, “oh, my God, there’s two of them,” Ororo said. Jean used her powers and took out one of the missiles, “there’s one more.” The remaining missile continued flying closer to them, “Jean?”

Jean gasped, “oh, God!” At the last second, Jean directed the missile slightly up, causing the back end of the jet to blow open.

Rogue, who wasn’t buckled in, flew out the back as Bobby yelled for her. Kurt briefly looked back before disappearing and then reappearing in the jet, right by the pilot’s seat next to Ororo and Jean as the jet nosedived.

The panels in the ship began to crackle as metal creaked and the back of the jet repaired itself. “Jean?” Ororo asked.

“It’s not me.” Jean answered, as the jet suddenly stopped, hovering over an older man and woman you didn’t recognize.

---

You had your head and arms buried deep into the jet's console, a strand of hair falling in front of your face as you tried to twist one more wire into place. The tech was scrambled from the missile hit, panels still flickering with bursts of static, and while it wasn’t exactly in your wheelhouse, you knew enough to give it a try. Besides, it kept your hands busy while the rest of the team talked to Erik around the fire and the kids set up tents.

After some time, you walked down the stairs of the jet, mostly for a small break from the incessant lighting and saw Logan smoking a cigar by the ramp. You almost turned around and walked back up, until he turned to look at you, more than halfway down the stairs.

You gulped and played with the tool in your hands as Logan looked at his cigar briefly, noticing the smoke was frozen in the air. He turned his gaze to the trees nearby also taking note that they were frozen as well; no wind blowing through their leaves.

“Ya always freeze time when you get nervous?” Logan tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you, trapped in your own nervous suspension of time. You gave a tight, embarrassed smile, the tool in your hands twisting around your fingers as you took a deep breath and forced yourself to let go of the freeze.

“No. Only sometimes,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat. The trees resumed their gentle sway, and the smoke from his cigar curled upward lazily again. Logan watched the subtle shift, something almost playful glinting in his gaze.

He took another drag of his cigar, eyes not leaving you. “So, what’s got you nervous?”

Your fingers fumbled with the tool. “It’s, um… I don’t usually come across people who…” You trailed off, looking down at your hands.

Truth was, he made you nervous. Why wouldn’t he? He was… a lot of things, and in the few days you have known him you couldn’t help but feel more reserved than usual.

Logan leaned back against the ramp, watching you with a calm expression, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Care to be more specific?” He seemed content to let you fumble, patient in a way that only made your pulse quicken more.

You shrugged, pretending to focus on the tool in your hands. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the… whole mysterious, intense thing you’ve got going. That, and the fact that I accidentally freeze time whenever you look at me like that.”

He raised an eyebrow, letting out a low chuckle. “Like what?”

“Like…” You trailed off, finally looking up at him. “Like you’re trying to figure something out, but I’m not sure I want to know what.”

“Maybe I am,” Logan said, taking a drag of his cigar. His eyes softened a bit, and you felt a warmth settle over you. He didn’t push, didn’t pry—just waited. After all, patience was one of the many things he’d perfected over the years.

You shifted on your feet, glancing down to where your fingers had turned the wrench over and over, antsy. “Maybe I just don’t know what to make of you,” you murmured, feeling the weight of his gaze again.

“Guess that makes two of us,” he replied, his voice low. There was something unspoken in his words, something you couldn’t quite name.

The silence stretched out, and then, because there was something about the way he looked at you that felt like an invitation, you spoke. “Why’d you come out here, anyway? I thought you were all about avoiding everyone else.”

Logan flicked some ash off the end of his cigar. “Maybe I was gettin’ tired of avoidin’ things.” He paused, looking out toward the treeline, then back at you. “Or maybe I just wanted to see if you’d freeze time again.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Not exactly something I can control.”

“Good to know,” Logan replied, smirking. He took another puff, the smoke curling up in wisps around him. “So, are you fixin’ that thing, or just givin’ it the ol’ college try?”

You looked back at the jet, the half-repaired panel flickering with static. “Oh, definitely just winging it.”

Logan chuckled, the sound rich and deep, and for a moment, the tension seemed to ease. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a ‘wing it’ type.”

You shrugged, biting back a smirk. “I’m full of surprises.”

The easy conversation brought a hint of a grin to his face, something warm and fleeting, and he tilted his head toward the jet. “C’mon, let’s see what else you can do, winging it.” He raised an eyebrow, as if challenging you.

You looked at him, then back at the jet, a bit of excitement tingling under your skin. “Alright, Logan. Let’s see what we can fix.”

---

“Stay with the kids.” Jean said. You opened your mouth to argue, you weren’t a child, yet it seemed like every mission you were treated like one. Never allowed on the field, never even brought in on a debriefing.

The rest of the group, other than Mystique who was already in the base, were outside the jet, making their way into Alkali Base. You were supposed to stay behind with Rogue, Bobby, and John.

“But, Jean—” you started, voice catching on the frustrated protest that lingered in your chest.

Jean turned, a hand on her hip and an exasperated look that was all too familiar. “We’ve talked about this, Y/N. You’re here to look after them.”

“Right,” you muttered, crossing your arms, your gaze falling on the others, who were half paying attention, half pretending not to notice. Rogue’s worried glance lingered on you; Bobby looked between you and the hallway where the rest of the team had disappeared.

Jean’s expression softened just slightly. “This isn’t a punishment, okay? The kids need someone they trust to keep them safe.”

You glanced at Logan, who gave you a slight nod, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “Fine,” you mumbled, “I’ll stay with them.”

Jean pressed a reassuring hand to your shoulder. “We’ll be back soon.” She turned to catch up with the others, her footsteps echoing as they faded into the depths of the base.

Logan lingered for a moment, gaze unwavering. He looked at you for a beat too long, and something tightened in his expression. He gave a faint nod before heading off.

As the rest of the team disappeared down the corridor, John grinned, clearly amused by your frustration. "Looks like you got a babysitting gig, huh?"

You shot him a withering look, but Rogue was quick to jump in. "It's not like that, John."

“Could be worse,” Bobby added, trying to lighten the mood, “at least we’re safe here.”

You leaned against the cold metal wall, fingers tapping the console out of habit. “Yeah,” you replied, though your voice held none of the certainty you tried to convey.

From the depths of the corridor, Logan’s scent still lingered faintly in the air. You felt the tug of something unexplainable—a pull toward him that you’d noticed ever since he first set foot in the mansion. It was like trying to remember something you knew you’d forgotten.

Your hand, almost of its own accord, clenched into a fist, feeling the temptation to slow time, to buy a few seconds to gather your thoughts and process what lingered between you and Logan. But with Rogue, Bobby, and John right there, you resisted, focusing on keeping things steady.

And, yet, as you listened to the faint sounds echoing down the hall, a deep sense of restlessness settled in your chest.

---

“She’s controlling the jet!” Storm said, as the jet started to lightly shake.

“You, get her, now!” Logan told Kurt.

Kurt briefly phased, “she’s not letting me.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Charles spoke. “This is the only way.”

Scott leaned down next to Charles seat, “Jean? Listen to me. Don’t do this.”

“Good-bye.”

The jet started to hover above the water as a bright light shone briefly from the water before disappearing as quickly as it came.

“She’s gone,” Ororo said quietly.

The vision broke your focus as you flew the jet, the emergency landing protocol activated as it landed harshly, Rogue and Bobby standing in the cockpit by your seat.

A whoosh made you turn to the side to see Kurt putting Charles down in a seat. Kids started to climb up the stairs into the ramp as Ororo came by your side, “I got this, Y/N,” she said gently.

You let out a few more heavy breaths before standing up from the pilot’s seat, letting Ororo take your place.

As Scott fiddled with some of the controls, Charles spoke up, “Scott, we’ve got to get to Washington. I fear this has gone beyond Alkali Lake.”

Logan finally climbed up the stairs, a young boy in his arms, “Bobby.”

“Hey, I got him,” Bobby replied, carefully taking the boy from Logan’s arms.

Logan watched for a moment as Bobby wrapped an arm around the kid, murmuring something reassuring to him. When the boy seemed to relax, Logan shifted his gaze to you, lingering just a beat too long, that same unreadable look in his eyes.

The jet was buzzing with energy as everyone settled in, but his eyes never left yours. You felt it, that weight, the unspoken thing hanging between you both ever since you met. The others didn’t seem to notice—Bobby was focused on the kid, Rogue was buckling in, and Ororo and Scott were adjusting settings on the console. But Logan, he was watching you, something intense simmering beneath his stoic expression.

You tried to brush it off, focusing on the quiet hum of the jet as it prepared for takeoff. But that pull was there, like something forgotten tugging at your memory, or maybe… not forgotten, exactly. Maybe something you’d never known.

Finally, unable to help yourself, you looked back at him. “What?” you asked softly, half a smile on your lips to cover the nervous energy prickling at the base of your spine.

Logan didn’t smile back. “Nothing,” he replied, voice rough. But his gaze softened, just barely, and there was a glimmer of something warm. “Just making sure you’re alright.”

His words were casual, but you caught the faintest edge of something… familiar. Like a memory you couldn’t quite touch. You felt your fingers twitch, the familiar itch to pull time in around you, but you held back.

“I’m fine,” you said, brushing your hair behind your ear as you tried to shake off the strange feeling. “Thanks for asking.”

Logan nodded, but his gaze didn’t waver. He watched you for a beat longer, almost as if he were searching for something. Whatever it was, he didn’t find it—or maybe he did but decided not to say. Instead, he moved forward to Ororo, where her and Scott were trying to power the engines.

“What’s wrong?” Logan questioned.

“Vertical thrusters are offline.” Scott answered.

“So fix ’em.”

“I’m trying.”

“Hey, has anyone seen John?” Rogue called out.

“Pyro?” Logan asked. “Where the hell is he?”

“He’s with Magneto.” Jean replied.

“…but I don’t know how long they’re going to last.”

“I’m trying to override, but it’s not responding.” Scott grunted, “come on!”

“Oh, no, we’ve lost the power.” Ororo said.

“It’s coming. Come on!”

“There’s power in the fuel cells. They’re just not connected.”

“Okay, I’ll try to reroute it this way.” Ororo continued, but your gaze was focused on Jean, who was looking at the ramp of the jet. “Scott, the engine control system is shot.”

“Which part?”

“All of it!”

“Can’t you override?”

“Yes. It’s going to take some time.”

“Jean,” you whispered under your breath, too scared to act, fearing what would happen if you intervened. Instead, you watched as she walked down the ramp of the jet, glancing at the group one last time.

Charles tilted his head slightly to the side, “Jean?”

“Wait, where’s Jean?” Logan asked.

“She’s outside.” Charles said.

Scott bolted up from his seat to the ramp, but it closed as he got there, separating Jean from the rest of them. The consoles lit up as the engines came back online.

“No! We’re not leaving! Lower the ramp! Storm, lower it!” Scott yelled.

“I can’t!” She replied.

The water finally washed over to them, but because of Jean and her telekinesis it went around her.

“She’s controlling the jet!” Storm said, as the jet started to lightly shake.

“You, get her, now!” Logan told Kurt.

Kurt briefly phased, “she’s not letting me.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Charles spoke. “This is the only way.”

Scott leaned down next to Charles seat, “Jean? Listen to me. Don’t do this.”

“Good-bye.”

The jet started to hover above the water as a bright light shone briefly-

“-power in the fuel cells. They’re just not connected.”

“Okay, I’ll try to reroute it this way.” Ororo continued, but your gaze was focused on Jean, who was looking at the ramp of the jet. “Scott, the engine control system is shot.”

“Which part?”

“All of it!”

“Can’t you override?”

“Yes. It’s going to take some time.”

As Jean walked toward the ramp, you reached out and grabbed her forearm, halting her determined steps. Her head turned, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, her eyes softened. There was a weariness, a resignation in her look that you couldn’t ignore.

“Jean,” you whispered, tightening your grip. “There has to be another way.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked away, staring into the distance. The ramp was only steps away, but she hadn’t pulled her arm free. “It’s the only way to save everyone,” she said, her voice barely audible, as if speaking louder would shatter whatever resolve she had left.

“I’m not gonna let you die,” you spoke quietly.

Jean tilted her head, looking at the cockpit one more time before back at you, “you rewound. Didn’t you?” She hadn’t tried to pull away, and you could feel the rapid beat of her pulse through your grip on her arm. She knew. Somehow, she’d pieced it together—how you’d rewound, maybe even more than once.

“Yes,” you replied softly, your voice barely audible over the hum of the jet, “but this time—”

“This time won’t be any different,” Jean cut in, a trace of regret in her tone. “Some things… you can’t just rewind.”

You tightened your grip, not willing to let go. “I don’t believe that. I don’t believe it has to end like this.”

Her gaze softened, but there was a sadness in her eyes that you couldn’t bear. “You have to let me go, Y/N. You can’t keep holding on to something that’s already gone.”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “We’re a team, Jean. You can power on the jet, and I can pause the water.”

She looked away, clearly weighing every word you said against her own grim resolve, then back at you with a look of resigned understanding. "You don’t understand, Y/N. This—" she gestured to the waters crashing around them, then down to her own chest, her hand resting over her heart—"what’s happening to me... it’s too much. It’s a flood I can’t hold back.”

You could feel her pulse, still wild beneath your hand, and the memory of her last words echoed in your mind. "You have to let me go, Y/N. You can’t keep holding on to something that’s already gone.”

But she wasn’t gone, not yet, and the desperation that rose inside you felt like a fight against fate itself. “Jean, I’ve seen things go wrong before.” The words slipped out, the ghost of a memory that you couldn’t quite catch. “But I can feel it this time… we don’t have to lose you. Just trust me.”

For a moment, Jean’s gaze softened, and her grip on her resolve wavered. “Y/N…” she started, and you caught a glimmer of something in her eyes—gratitude, or maybe even hope. Her hand rested lightly over yours, though you could feel her power humming beneath her skin. “Alright,” she whispered finally, her voice barely audible. “But if something goes wrong… if it’s too much…”

You cut her off, squeezing her hand tighter. “Then we find another way. But you don’t have to do this alone.”

With a quick nod from Jean, you focused your energy, feeling time ripple and bend beneath your skin. Jean closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as she took in the extra moments you’d gifted her, enough to gather her power without tearing herself apart in the process.

Outside the jet, the water slowed, hovering just a few inches away from the plane, frozen in time. Everyone held their breath, the hum of the jet's engines amplified in the stillness. Scott turned back to the controls, guiding the jet forward through the suspended water. “It’s working,” he murmured, almost to himself. "We’re moving.”

In the cockpit, you felt your pulse race as you held the time bubble steady, feeling the strain build in your bones. This level of control was more intense than anything you’d managed before, but you pushed yourself to hold on, the determination to keep Jean and everyone safe steeling your resolve.

The jet jolted slightly as it broke through the edge of the water and rose higher, out of immediate danger. But the strain was starting to build, the sheer amount of energy it took to hold everything at bay beginning to wear on you. Your hand slipped, and you nearly stumbled, but before you could lose your focus entirely, a strong hand caught your arm.

Logan was at your side, his face mere inches from yours, concern laced in his voice. “You good?” he asked, his grip grounding you.

“Yeah… just give me a sec.” You took a breath, focusing on the feel of his hand, the warmth in his touch that felt familiar in a way you couldn’t explain. With that small, grounding connection, you found the strength to hold the time bubble for a few seconds more.

When the jet was finally clear, you released the grip on time, and the rush of water resumed its course beneath them. You staggered slightly, feeling a rush of exhaustion course through you, but Logan’s arm was still steady around you, even as you fell to the ground, your eyes fluttering shut.

Logan’s grip tightened as you slumped back, your breath shuddering as exhaustion swept over you. His hand was warm, rough fingers gently brushing against your cheek, bringing you back just enough to the moment. Your back was draped over his knees, your pulse still racing as you struggled to catch your breath. The world was a muted blur, but his voice broke through, steady and low, anchoring you.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a slow circle on your cheek. “You’re alright. I got you.”

It was only his words, and the softness in them, that made you blink back the haze of exhaustion. As your vision cleared, you saw his face just inches from yours, an intensity in his gaze that seemed to search for something… something deeper than he was saying.

“Logan,” you whispered, not sure why his name slipped out so easily or why it felt so familiar, as if you’d said it before, in another life or another time. But the look he gave you held a weight you couldn’t name, a history you couldn’t remember.

“You with me?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper, but beneath it, there was something else, something almost pleading. He waited as you blinked up at him, your pulse slowly settling, tethered by his touch. “Y/N?”

“Yeah…” You tried to push yourself up, but the strain of holding time around the jet had left your muscles aching, feeling drained in a way you’d never experienced before. Logan’s grip on your shoulder tightened, steadying you, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into him, feeling his warmth.

His face softened, a flicker of relief crossing his expression, though he didn’t let go. “You pulled us out of that mess,” he said, his voice low, and for a second, something raw flickered in his eyes. “What were you thinking? Freezing the water like that—it could’ve knocked you out cold.”

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t just watch Jean go.” You inhaled deeply, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced toward the cockpit, where Jean’s quiet breathing filled the jet with a fragile peace. “I couldn’t let her do it alone.”

Logan gave a slow nod, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. You felt the intensity of his gaze, as if he was seeing something beyond what you could understand. There was a warmth to it, one that made your heart stutter, something deep and unexplainably familiar. He paused, his voice quieter, almost hesitant. “You’ve always been this way… haven’t you?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, thrown by the hint of something personal, something he couldn’t quite put into words. He dropped his hand from your face, settling it on your shoulder, but you could still feel the warmth lingering where he’d touched you.

“Never mind.” He looked away, his expression unreadable. But his hand remained steady on your shoulder, grounding you as the jet finally stabilized, the engines humming to life. You could hear the others bustling around, but for this moment, it was just the two of you, a silent understanding hovering between you.

“Logan…?” you started, not sure what you wanted to say or why his presence felt so deeply familiar. He turned back, a question in his eyes, as if he were waiting for something. But the words wouldn’t come. How could you ask him about a feeling you didn’t understand? About a memory that didn’t exist?

Instead, you exhaled, letting the silence fill the space between you. “Thank you.”

He watched you, his gaze lingering on your face, as if there were a thousand things he wanted to say. But he only nodded, a soft look crossing his face, one that felt almost like longing.

“Anytime,” he murmured, his hand finally slipping away, leaving a chill in its place.

“Y/N, you good back there?” Ororo’s voice broke the spell, and you managed a nod, giving her a thumbs-up.

“Yeah. Just… catching my breath.” You gave her a small smile, forcing your muscles to relax, even as your heart was still pounding. Logan stood, his gaze lingering on you for a beat before he moved to check on the others. But before he left, he looked back at you, his eyes holding a silent promise, a feeling that maybe—just maybe—he was still there, still watching over you.

---

A storm crackled outside thanks to Ororo and everyone around the group was frozen in time courtesy of you.

“Good morning, Mr. President.” Charles said. The President looked over to the side where Kurt was crouched on a small table. He began to stand up slowly, “please, don’t be alarmed. We’re not going to harm anyone.”

“Who are you people?”

“We’re mutants. My name is Charles Xavier. Please, sit down.”

“I’d rather stand.”

“Rogue.” Charles briefly glanced over at her, as she placed a large file onto the President’s desk. “These files were taken from the private offices of William Stryker.”

The President started to flip through the file, “how did you get this?”

“Well, let’s just say I know a little girl who can walk through walls.” Charles said, as the President looked over at Kurt who let out a quiet snicker. He finally sat back down.

“I’ve never seen this information.”

“I know.”

“Then you also know I don’t respond well to threats.”

“Mr. President, this is not a threat, this is an opportunity. There are forces in this world, both mutant and human alike, who believe that a war is coming. You’ll see from those files that some have already tried to start one. And there have been casualties. Losses on both sides. Mr. President, what you are about to tell the world is true. This is a moment. A moment to repeat the mistakes of the past, or to work together for a better future. We’re here to stay, Mr. President. The next move is yours.”

“We’ll be watching,” Logan said.

logan is around 171 years old (but at this point in the story, he doesn't really know how old he is so it's kinda irrelevant now) and reader is around 26 years old

[carbonfiction]

Could you do some angst Logan x mutant!reader comfort. Like maybe she has a similar origin to Logan where she was tested on for her powers and escaped. She ends up at the mansion and that’s how her and Logan end up together.

I’ve been wanting to write this myself for a while but haven’t had time. I need to see some truama bonding and comfort for that man with someone who really understands what it’s like. I would give anything to be that person. 😭

Hi anon!! Im so sorry this has taken me so long to get to- despite some little changes on the request, and my unsureness on writing angst, i hope you enjoy this drabble!

One step at a time

Summary: sleep can be a fickle thing, a struggle more personal than most.. But it just so happens theres another person in the mansion that understands. Written with X1 logan in mind!

Warnings?: angst, mentions of nightmares and troubled sleep, self doubt, slight depression? Comfort and fluff at the end? Idk how to tag this really.. Words: 1.5k Masterlist

People were scared of things they didn’t understand, of people that didn’t fit in to a societal box. And being a mutant? Well, you became the scariest thing of all. An unknown, a secret unshared in a room full of people.

To some, that fear, that little nagging doubt about what you are, what you could do.. fuelled somthing else entirely. Not fear, not quite, more an evil kind of curiosity. A fixation to poke and prod, bend and snap, push the limits of their fear regardless of yours in the name of science. Regardless that you too, we’re a person, different now yes, but still born of the same matter once.

Careless to the person you were, only the thing you could become. And even then, if you weren’t useful.. you were useless. Another mistake in a pile of scraped idea's, a caged creature begging for a way out.

You never wanted it, never asked to sit in a room and wonder why. Why you, why this. There was never a good enough answer, never a reason, not really. Some People were just cruel, vile and nasty, out for their own gain.. to test the limits of humanity.

But then it begged the question, what was humanity? Because it wasn’t this. It wasn’t the sleepless nights afraid to close your eyes. The sanctity of sleep a luxury. Peace a rationed thing.

Therefore It had become normal to find you in the dead of night, curled up the couch in front of the fireplace; whilst everyone else slumbered. Sometimes a book in hand, other times just your thoughts. Embered flames burning bright and warm, the crackle of wood often the only sound. It was how your relationship with Logan had bloomed.

From wordless nods walking down corridors to conversations and nights shared infront of the fire; he had become pleasant company, a friend you regarded higher- one who understood better- than most. He'd seen the same horrors behind his eyes, the years a tiresome thing.

So it's here you sit, like always, in your spot on the couch peering between pages of a book and the old grandfather clock, waiting for Logan.

It was late and he'd usually show up around now, your meetings held in a trusted pact- an agreement that if sleep held pain, this is where you'd find one another. It was up to choice then, if you'd relocate to one of your room's; if you felt the embrace of the others arms would quiet the horror, just for a while.

Because while it's true that you both may no longer be broken here in the mansion.. you'd always be bruised bone deep.

"Hey" Logan murmers softly, breaking you from your thoughts as you crane your neck toward him. Hes stood tall in the doorway, clad in sweats and a white vest, two steaming mugs in hand as he pads closer, handing you one over the back of the couch. "Figured you'd want a drink, tried to make it how you like"

You nod, taking a tentative sip with a greatful smile. Your eyes fluttering shut a moment as you swallow, relishing the warmth. Logan had indeed made it the exact way he knew you loved, and it swells your heart; the fondness you feel for the action- for him. "'S perfect, thank you.."

"Was nothin.." he shrugs, sighing into his own cup, back hitting the couch besides you. the cushions are a soft embrace for his aching body, the days seeming longer. He'd confessed one night, that the winter had never helped his affliction. That the cold air made his adamantium bones ache in a way that seemed impossible to describe. The sting of his knuckles that bit sharper with each snikt of his claws.

You shift quietly, book page marked and now placed on the coffee table. Logan watches silently as you reach for the soft blanket that lays dormant on the back. Your fingers adjusting the fabric carefully, unfolding and draping it until it rests over his knees too.

Logan smiles, a look reserved for these nights- for you- in his eyes. Its a soft, greatful, little thing; Unreminicent of his usual gruff demeanor. he lifts a large arm bringing it to rest snug behind your shoulders, tugging you closer.

Theres a comfortable silence that follows then, sat side by side. Logan simply watches as you pick the book back up, resuming your page. A warm feeling in his chest that he hasn't felt for a while as your eyes flit across the words.

He still cant understand how anyone could- would- hurt you. Would even dare harm a delicate hair on your head. It boils a possessive type of anger inside of him, that people, the very same that had hurt him, had dared. That they had ruined your trust, made you into something of their design, just like him.

And Its then that Logan cant help how his mouth moves, how it burts the words before he can even think to stop them, make them sound less jumbled. "You uh.. didn't deserve it you know?.. What they did"

The words feel foreign on his tongue but they hold meaning- one that you can feel as you cast your gaze to him.

Theres a look in your eyes he cant quite read as you hum honestly. "Neither did you. you know that right?"

And Logan knows. Hell its deep down but he knows. Yet hearing the words still bring an ache to his chest. Its beyond hard for him to even think about- admit really- even after all this time. He hadn't deserved it and neither had you. But that was certain weather perceived or not.

"Im.. Tired, logan" you trail quietly, casting your book aside as your head falls to rest on his shoulder. "Just.. So tired of being tired."

A shattering feeling stabs at Logan's chest from your admission, a sigh falling against your hair. "I know you are. Hell so am i but.." he pauses, trying to find the correct sentiment.

"We- you- can do this"

You can't help the exhaled sound that slips from you, not a laugh, not not a breath either. "Logan-" you try to protest, try to shift back inside your non vulnerable shell ready to shut down, but he has you locked next to him, fingers coming to rest on your jaw.

"No, look at me, Cmon" he murmurs, cupping and turning your cheek gently until your gaze meet his. "like you told me that once. Its one step at a time alright?"

You recall saying it, remember the context, and yet the idea of saying it to yourself feels foreign- as foreign as the words blurted from logans tongue.

He'd had a nightmare that night, had woken with a hoarse scream and his claws embedded in the plush mattress; pillows ruined with feathers everywhere, soaked in sweat. You'd come barreling in from downstairs having heard his sounds of distress, knowing the situation.

But.. You hadn't laughed, despite him being so surrounded by pillow feathers that he's sure he looked like big bird. You hadn't been cruel or judgemental, pitty in your eyes. You'd just been.. Well, you. Kind and understanding, reassuring him that it was okay, that he was safe. To take a shower and you'd sort the rest. It was from then that the fondness he felt for you had bloomed to something a little more inside of him.

You nod gently, a small, barely there smile on your lips now as you repeat. The light of the fire a soft glow in your eyes, tone a fraction more hopeful. "One step at a time"

"Yeah, thats it sweetheart" he smiles gently, a proud look in his own eye's, before his throat clears. A bashful look taking over his features as he continues, thumb absentmindedly stroking over your cheekbone. A distraction to the honesty he was going to drop "Besides.. you got this knucklehead who'd really like to keep this.. Us.. up"

You swallow, breath stuttering as your cheeks heat."You.. You would?" you sound a little surprised, yet a little hopeful, and It makes Logan smile, hearing your heart pounding in your chest.

"Yeah sweetheart" he breathes, voice a low gravel as he anxiously nods, before rushing to add. "if- if thats something you'd want?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, so excitedly it makes logan chuckle, the deep rumble joining the crackling fire. "I, uh, i mean.. ofcourse i do Logan"

Logans fingers tilt your face higher, his forehead coming to rest on yours as your fingers trace over his scruff coated jaw. "Things are better with you.." you murmer, breath puffing over his lips. "Lighter. You get it, get me.. This.."

He hardly lets you finish before his lips are pressed to yours, breaking the miniscule gap between them. His kiss so uncharacteristically gentle, like he was afraid one taste and you'd break.

"Things are better with you too.." he says quietly, forehead on yours, a smile against your mouth as his nose rubs your cheek.

And so Its that night you both agree, while wrapped up in one another, that things are better together. Better with each others shoulder to lean on. And despite the darkness that would still linger sometimes, that's all that mattered. You and him. Him and you.

[pandapetals]

ong i love your writing! can i please get a x1 logan fic where the reader is a ballerina? she’s been alive for a long time just like logan with the same regeneration ability. they meet when she is invited to the x mansion for something. but he walks in on her dancing swan lake? if not i totally understand. a girl can dream 💗✨

Hi! Thank you so much and sooo sorry for how long it took. I’ve been busy finishing school and sleep-deprived. Hopefully, i did it justice. Idk what this is lol but i ran with it. It turned into a mini fic....anyway, I always wanted to be a ballerina when I was a kid so this lowkey fulfilled my dreams.

logan howlett x fem!mutant reader - angst, minor fluff, reader has established relationships with x-men especially hank, slight reader description, no y/n used, reader has met logan before but he doesn’t remember, timeline sort of follows X1 & X2, ballet references

You stood in the middle of the mansion’s wide, polished hallway, the faint smell of waxed floors and old books swirling around you. The hum of distant voices, laughter, and the occasional crash of something breaking echoed deeper within the sprawling mansion. You smoothed your palms over your thighs, fingers brushing against the soft cotton of your dance tights beneath your coat. This place hadn’t changed—well, not in the ways that mattered.

Storm walked beside you, her silver hair catching the sunlight spilling through the grand windows, while Scott trailed just behind, his arms crossed in his usual no-nonsense stance. You saw your reflection in one of the hallway mirrors—unchanged. Despite the weight of decades, your skin was still smooth, and your body lithe. This place carried ghosts for you, but not the kind that faded with time.

"Still feels the same," you murmured under your breath, your voice almost swallowed by the mansion's high ceilings.

Storm turned, a small smile pulling at her lips. "The kids grow up, and new ones come in, but the mansion stays the same."

"Right down to the same smell of burnt toast from the kitchen every morning," Scott added, his tone dry. He gave you a sidelong glance, the faintest hint of warmth breaking through his stoicism. "You'll fit right in again. Hank’s been talking about your return for weeks. I think he's been counting the days."

Storm chuckled softly, her voice lilting like the whisper of wind through trees. “You’d think he was the one with a photographic memory.”

As if summoned by your name, a deep, rumbling voice boomed from behind. “Is that—no, it can’t be.”

You turned just in time to see Hank bounding into view, his blue fur almost shimmering in the light. His tailored blazer looked comically out of place over his hulking, beastly form, but the warm smile on his face was the same as you remembered.

"Hank!" you exclaimed, your smile splitting wide as you stepped forward. His massive arms enveloped you in a bear hug, lifting you clean off your feet.

"My dear, you haven’t aged a day!" he declared, setting you back down but keeping his enormous hands on your shoulders as if to confirm you were real.

“Well, you know me. Perks of the trade,” you said lightly, but his words brought a pang you quickly shoved aside. You tilted your head up at him. “You, on the other hand, look fluffier than ever.”

Hank laughed, the sound rolling through the hallway like thunder. “You flatter me.” He released you with a fond pat on the back. "Though I must admit, it’s wonderful to see you again. It hasn’t been the same without you."

Scott cleared his throat, his voice tinged with impatience. “As much as I enjoy a good reunion, we still have the tour to finish.”

You smirked. “Still as serious as ever, huh, Summers? Don’t worry, I won’t let Hank hold us up too long.”

As the group moved down the hallway, your footsteps were light against the polished floor. A gruff voice cut through the air, stopping you in your tracks.

“Who’s the new recruit?”

You froze. You knew that voice—low, gravelly like it had been dragged across gravel and left to smolder. Turning slowly, you locked eyes with Logan. He leaned casually against the doorframe, one hand resting on the frame, the other holding a cigar he hadn’t bothered to light. His eyes raked over you, sizing you up with an air of detached curiosity.

“Logan,” you said, the name tasting familiar on your tongue, like a song you hadn’t sung in years.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Do I know you?”

For a second, you almost told him. The memories of a fight decades ago—the clash of claws and fists, the way his grin had split his face after every victory—flashed through your mind. But his blank stare reminded you he wouldn’t remember. Not this version of him. Not after what they’d done to him.

“Not really,” you replied with a shrug, masking the ache behind a practiced nonchalance. “But I’ve heard of you. Big fan of the ‘snikt-snikt’ routine.”

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners. “Cute.” He pushed off the doorframe, his boots thudding against the hardwood as he walked closer. “What’s your story?”

You mirrored his casual stance, crossing your arms as you looked up at him. “I’m here to teach ballet. Figured the kids could use some culture.”

“Ballet?” Logan snorted, his grin widening. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be real useful in a fight.”

You smirked back. “You’d be surprised. I could take you down in three moves.”

“Three, huh?” He tilted his head, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re confident. I like that.”

“Is that your way of saying you’d like a demonstration?”

Before he could reply, Storm cut in, her voice carrying an edge of authority. “Logan, play nice. She’s here to help, not trade punches with you.”

Logan raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin never faltering. “Alright, alright. But don’t blame me if she ends up knocking one of the kids on their asses in the Danger Room.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped out. Logan might not remember you, but some things about him hadn’t changed.

As he walked away, cigar tucked back between his teeth, you turned to Storm, who was watching you with a knowing look.

“Well,” you said, “this is going to be fun.”

Storm chuckled. “Oh, I think you’ll fit right in.”

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

The room smelled faintly of lavender, likely from whatever freshener Storm had insisted on using, and the golden light of late afternoon streamed through the large windows. You sat cross-legged on the neatly made bed, hands resting on your knees, staring absently at the few belongings you’d unpacked. A duffel bag in the corner. A framed photo of you and Hank from years ago—his arm slung over your shoulder, your face mid-laugh. It felt surreal, almost too heavy to keep looking at.

You shrugged as if trying to loosen the weight pressing on your chest. It was nice to be back, even if it stirred old memories you’d locked away. Memories of laughter, battle, and the kind of losses that didn’t fade with time. But this was temporary. Just another stop along your endless road, you reminded yourself. You never stayed anywhere long enough to leave roots. You couldn’t.

A knock at the doorframe broke your reverie.

“Mind if I come in?” Hank’s familiar baritone rang out, warm and tinged with his usual politeness. He stood there, one hand resting on the frame, his blue fur catching the golden light.

“Course,” you said, a smile pulling at your lips as you waved him in.

He stepped into the room, his hulking frame seeming almost too big for the cozy space. But the way he moved—careful and precise—kept it from feeling intrusive. He glanced around, his sharp eyes taking in the bare walls and the sparse unpacking. “Travel light as always, I see.”

“Old habits die hard,” you said with a shrug. “Besides, I’m not planning on staying long.”

Hank’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t press the matter. Instead, he crossed the room and plopped into the chair at the small desk, the furniture groaning under his weight.

“We have a lot of catching up to do,” you said, your smile softening. “It’s been...”

“Ten years,” he finished for you, his voice quiet but firm.

Your smile faltered, and you looked away, the guilt settling in your stomach like a stone. “I’m sorry,” you said finally in a whisper.

Hank waved you off, the gesture almost as familiar as the amused twinkle in his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, dear. I know you had your reasons for running off. It just would’ve been nice to know you weren’t, you know, dead in a ditch somewhere.”

That earned a small laugh as you rubbed the back of your neck. “Yeah, I guess I could’ve done better on the whole ‘staying in touch’ thing, huh?”

“Just a bit,” he teased, leaning forward and resting his chin on his massive hand. “I missed you, you know. Things have been... quieter without you around.”

You grinned. “Me? I think you’re confusing me with someone else.”

“Oh no,” he said, his eyes glinting with playful mischief. “I distinctly recall a certain someone sneaking into my lab at three in the morning to swipe beakers for—what was it—homemade glow-in-the-dark paint?”

You laughed, the sound bright and unguarded. “In my defense, it worked! That mural in the attic was a masterpiece.”

“And I had to spend an entire week re-organizing my lab. You’re lucky I’m so forgiving,” he said, though the grin on his face made it clear he didn’t regret a second of it.

The laughter between you settled into a comfortable quiet, the kind of silence only shared between old friends.

Hank cleared his throat, his tone turning curious. “So, how are you feeling about being back? I know it can’t be easy.”

You leaned back on your hands, glancing up at the ceiling. “It’s... weird. Good, but weird. This place has so many memories, you know? Feels like I’m walking through a time capsule. Everyone’s so familiar but different at the same time. Even Logan.”

Hank’s eyebrows shot up. “Logan?”

You nodded, a sly smile tugging at your lips. “Ran into him in the hallway earlier. He asked who I was.”

“And did you tell him?”

Your smile faded slightly, replaced by something more wistful. “Just said I was here to teach ballet and that I’d heard of him.”

Hank tilted his head, studying you. “You’ve met him before, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, your voice soft. You traced the edge of the duvet with your finger, eyes distant. “A long time ago. Before he lost his memory.”

Hank frowned. “And he doesn’t remember?”

You shook your head. “Nope. Not a thing.”

“That must’ve been... hard,” Hank said, his voice gentle, always the considerate one.

You shrugged, forcing a small, tight smile. “It’s not like I expected him to. Besides, it’s probably better this way. Less complicated.”

“Hmm,” Hank murmured, leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed. “Well, complicated or not, he seems intrigued by you. I caught him muttering something about ‘ballet instructors with an attitude’ after he saw you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “Sounds about right. I think I annoyed him within thirty seconds of meeting him. New record?”

Hank chuckled. “Perhaps. Though, if I know Logan, that probably just means he respects you already.”

You snorted. “Yeah, sure. Respect. That’s what I’m calling it.”

Hank grinned at your sarcasm, but his expression softened as he leaned forward again. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. Even if it’s just for a little while. The place feels more like home with you in it.”

The words struck a chord deep in your chest, and you looked down, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve to avoid his gaze. “Thanks, Hank. That means a lot.”

“You mean a lot,” he said simply, his sincerity cutting through any attempt to downplay his words.

The two of you fell into an easy silence again, but this time it was heavier with unspoken things. Things you didn’t have to say, because after all these years, Hank just knew.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

“Great work today,” you said gently, crouching to pat one of the kids on the head. The little girl beamed up at you, her hair still pinned into a slightly crooked bun from class.

“Thanks!” she chirped before bounding off toward the theatre entrance, where a gaggle of other students waited.

“I’ll see you all tomorrow, bright and early!” you called after them, your voice carrying across the empty rows of seats. A few of them waved over their shoulders, laughter spilling into the hall as they disappeared through the double doors.

The stage was quiet now, the faint scent of resin and sweat lingering in the air. You stood there staring out at the rows of chairs that stretched into a shadow. The polished floor beneath your feet caught the faint gleam of overhead lights, reflecting a ghostly version of yourself back at you.

Your shoulders sagged as you sighed, the stillness pressing around you like a heavy blanket. This place stirred something deep in you, something you hadn’t felt in years. You glanced down at your feet, your sneakers looking almost out of place against the elegant backdrop of the stage. Your eyes drifted, drawn to a battered old prop chest tucked just off to the side, partially hidden by the heavy velvet curtain.

Curiosity pulled you forward, and you crouched to flip open the lid. A cloud of dust puffed out, tickling your nose as you rummaged through its contents. Costumes, ribbons, bits of tulle—faded relics from long-forgotten performances. And then, nestled at the very bottom, you found them.

A pair of pointe shoes.

Your breath hitched as you lifted them from the chest, the ribbons cascading down like silk waterfalls. They weren’t yours—at least, not exactly—but they might as well have been. The scuffed toes, the frayed edges of the satin, the way the soles were worn down just so—it was all so familiar it made your chest ache.

Without really thinking, you sat down on the edge of the stage, untying your sneakers and slipping off your socks. The cool satin of the pointe shoes slid over your feet like a second skin, and your fingers moved on autopilot as you laced the ribbons up your ankles. The motions were muscle memory, older than most of the students you’d taught today.

You rose slowly, the faint stretch and pull of the shoes grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you’d needed. A glance backstage revealed a small sound system someone had left behind, a phone still plugged into it. You scrolled until you found it—Swan Lake.

The haunting strings began to play, swelling and softening as if they were breathing. You stepped back onto the stage, your toes brushing the center mark, and let the music guide you.

At first, you moved tentatively, testing the feel of the shoes and the way your body responded. But soon, the hesitance melted away, and the steps came to you as naturally as breathing. A pirouette turned into an arabesque, which melted into a series of gliding movements that carried you across the stage.

The world outside the theatre faded, and all that existed was the music, the stage, and the rhythm of your own heartbeat. Each movement felt like slipping into an old memory, one you didn’t even realize you’d missed.

You were mid-leap when you caught the faintest creak of floorboards behind you.

The sound shattered your focus, and you landed with a jarring thud, spinning around instinctively.

Logan stood at the edge of the stage, one hand shoved into his jacket pocket. He leaned against the proscenium arch, watching you with an unreadable expression, though something about it wasn’t entirely unkind.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The soft strains of Swan Lake still played behind you, the violins aching as the tension in the air stretched.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked finally, your voice sharper than you intended.

“Long enough,” he said, his gravelly voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

Your eyes narrowed. “And you didn’t think to announce yourself?”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “Didn’t want to interrupt. You looked... focused.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat rise to your face as you turned away and bent to tug the ribbons loose from your ankles. “Well, congratulations. You interrupted anyway.”

“Didn’t mean to,” he said, stepping closer, his boots thudding softly against the stage floor. “You’re... pretty good at that, by the way.”

You paused mid-motion, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “Pretty good? Gee, thanks for the glowing review.”

He smirked, his sharp eyes gleaming with amusement. “Alright, fine. You’re really good. Happy?”

You snorted, slipping the pointe shoes off and flexing your toes. “It’s been a while.”

“Couldn’t tell,” he said simply. His gaze lingered on you even as you busied yourself with tucking the ribbons back into the shoes. “You used to do that, huh? Dance, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, turning the shoes over in your hands. “A lifetime ago.”

The silence hung between while the faint hum of the violins still played in the background.

“You should do it more,” he said finally, his tone softer than you expected.

You looked up at him, startled by the sincerity in his voice. The rough edges of Logan’s demeanor didn’t usually leave much room for softness, and it caught you off guard. But before you could respond, he was already turning away, heading toward the wings, his boots thudding softly against the stage floor.

You just sat there, the pointe shoes resting lightly in your lap. You stared after him, unsure whether to laugh, roll your eyes, or call him back just to yell at him for sneaking in. But something about the way he moved—slow, deliberate, almost hesitant—stopped you.

“Logan,” you called out, your voice carrying across the empty stage.

He paused, his broad shoulders tensing, though he didn’t turn right away. When he did, his expression was guarded, like he wasn’t sure what to expect from you.

“How long have you been here?” you asked, gesturing vaguely to the space around you. “At the school, I mean.”

His brow furrowed slightly, and for a second, he looked like he was deciding whether or not to answer. “A good while,” he said finally, his tone gruff.

It wasn’t much of an answer—not something you could work with—but you tried anyway. “Hank tells me you’re just… passing through.” You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “But you’re still here.”

Logan let out a soft huff, the corner of his mouth pulling into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but close enough. “He should mind his business,” he said, though there was no real heat in his words. He paused, stepping closer with a glint of curiosity in his sharp eyes. “You talking to Hank about me?”

You shrugged, the movement casual, but your heart was beating just a touch faster. “Me and Hank are good friends. We’ve—well, I’ve known the X-Men almost my whole life.” You hesitated, glancing down at the pointe shoes in your lap, your fingers idly tracing the frayed edges of the satin. “Been around a long time.”

Logan’s gaze lingered on you, and you could feel the weight of it, heavy and searching. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You give off that vibe.”

You frowned, looking back up at him. “What vibe?”

“Like you’ve seen some things,” he said, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. His tone was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that felt older than even his rough exterior let on. “Been through it. Same as me.”

You held his gaze for a moment, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t the kind of thing you could explain. Not easily, anyway. Instead, you offered him a small, wry smile. “Yeah, well. Time has a way of kicking the crap out of you if you let it.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, the sound more genuine than you expected. “Ain’t that the truth.” He shifted slightly, his gaze dropping to the pointe shoes still cradled in your hands.

“You’re good at that,” he said finally, nodding toward them. “Dancing, I mean. I could tell. Not just talent—it’s in your bones.”

You blinked, taken aback. “What, you an expert on ballet now?”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Nah. But I know what it looks like when someone’s got somethin’ that keeps ‘em going. Something they can’t walk away from, even if they try.”

The words hit deeper than you wanted to admit as you stared at him, unsure how to respond. Finally, you said, “Yeah, well. It’s not exactly something you forget. Even when you want to.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. Something was flickering behind his gaze, restless and uncertain like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t even know he had.

“You seem… familiar,” he said suddenly, the words rough, like they’d been dragged out of him against his will.

Your breath caught, and you stiffened, your grip tightening on the pointe shoes. “Familiar?”

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “Yeah. I dunno. I get these dreams sometimes. Flashes of… people, places. Can’t make sense of ‘em half the time, but you…” He trailed off, running a hand through his dark hair. “You feel like one of ‘em. Like I’ve seen you before.”

Your heart was pounding now, and you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, even as his words pulled at something buried deep in your chest. “Well,” you said lightly, “maybe I just have one of those faces.”

Logan snorted, though there was no humor in it. “Yeah. Maybe.” But the way his eyes lingered on you made it clear he wasn’t convinced.

You stood abruptly, the pointe shoes dangling from your fingers as you moved to set them down on the edge of the stage. “I should probably get going,” you said, your voice a touch too bright. “Long day tomorrow. Lots of kids to wrangle.”

Logan straightened, watching you carefully. “Yeah. Sure.” He hesitated, then added, “Hey. If you ever feel like you need to talk… about all that time kickin’ the crap outta you…” His smirk returned, softer this time. “I’m around.”

You looked at him, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. Then you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Logan.”

He nodded back, stepping away toward the wings. “Anytime.”

As he disappeared into the shadows, you found yourself standing there, staring at the space he’d left behind, wondering if he remembered more than he realized.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

“Leaving already?” Hank asked, his deep voice soft but tinged with disappointment as he leaned against the doorframe of your room. His sharp blue eyes swept over the half-packed duffel bag on the bed.

You turned to face him, zipping up the side pocket of the bag before offering him a faint smile. “Yeah,” you said, your tone light, though the ache in your chest betrayed you. “My job’s done. These kids learned pretty quickly. They don’t need me hanging around.”

Hank stepped into the room, his large frame taking up far too much space as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You could stay…”

His words hung in the air like a challenge, and you looked down at your hands, gripping the strap of your bag. The idea tugged at you, and you couldn’t deny it. A part of you did want to stay. It had been a few months—far longer than you’d initially planned—and yet leaving felt harder than it usually did.

Hank tilted his head, studying you. “I know he would miss you,” he said gently, his voice softening. “In his own weird way.”

Your heart gave a traitorous thud, and you swallowed hard, glancing toward the window. The late afternoon sun cast long golden streaks across the walls, the light catching the faint dust motes in the air. You knew exactly who Hank meant.

“Hank,” you said, shaking your head as if to dismiss the thought. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” Hank continued, his tone a mixture of teasing and sincerity, “it’s not every day Logan actually lets someone get under his skin.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up, though it was tinged with a bittersweet edge. “Under his skin? Pretty sure he’d describe me as an itch, not a friend.”

Hank raised an eyebrow, a knowing look on his face. “Perhaps. But even Logan doesn’t get that annoyed unless he likes someone.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway made both of you glance toward the door. A moment later, Logan appeared, his usual scowl in place as he leaned against the frame, arms crossed.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked, his gravelly voice laced with sarcasm, though his eyes flicked to your bag with something far harder to read.

“Not at all,” Hank said smoothly, stepping toward the door. “In fact, I was just leaving.”

You shot Hank a glare, but he only smiled innocently before brushing past Logan and disappearing down the hallway, leaving the two of you alone.

“So,” Logan said, jerking his chin toward the bed. “Packing up, huh?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah. Time to hit the road. The kids are in a good place, and my work here is done.”

Logan snorted, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into the room. “Work? Looked more like pirouettes and tutus to me.”

You rolled your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Don’t knock it, Logan. Ballet’s tougher than it looks. I’d like to see you last five minutes in a pair of pointe shoes.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” he said, the ghost of a grin flickering across his face. “I like my dignity right where it is.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you zipped up the duffel bag. “You wouldn’t know dignity if it hit you over the head.”

“Careful, darlin’,” Logan shot back, his voice teasing but low. “I might actually start to think I’m gonna miss you.”

The playful tone of the conversation faltered for a split second, the weight of his words landing heavier than either of you expected. You looked at him, your smirk fading as your eyes searched his face.

“Well,” you said lightly, trying to brush it off, “don’t get too sentimental on me, Logan. I’ll think I’ve broken you.”

Logan didn’t laugh. His expression grew more serious, his brows furrowing slightly as he stepped closer. “I’m not bein’ sentimental. I mean it.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden earnestness in his voice. “Logan—”

“I’ll miss you,” he interrupted, his gaze dropping before meeting yours again. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

Before you could respond, Logan ran a hand through his dark hair, letting out a low huff. “I don’t know what it is about you,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “But you feel… familiar. Like I’ve known you before.”

You froze, your pulse quickening. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to piece something together. “I’ve had these dreams,” he said slowly. “Flashes of… I dunno, a forest. Snow. And you. You’re there. You’re always there.”

Your breath caught, and you forced yourself to stay still, to keep your expression neutral even as his words sent a ripple through you. “Logan, that doesn’t mean anything,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “Dreams are just… dreams.”

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “Maybe. But it feels real. Like I’m rememberin’ something I’m not supposed to.”

You took a shaky breath, gripping the strap of your bag like a lifeline. “Logan…”

He stepped back, giving you space but keeping his sharp eyes locked on yours. “I don’t know what it means, but…” He exhaled, the sound rough and frustrated. “I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is… if I ever figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

You managed a faint smile, though your chest felt tight. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Logan nodded once, his gaze lingering on you before he stepped back toward the door. “Take care of yourself, darlin’,” he said, his voice gruff again, though the softness in his eyes remained.

“You too, Logan,” you replied, watching as he disappeared into the hallway.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

“He isn’t here,” Hank’s familiar voice rumbled as you stepped through the heavy oak doors of Xavier’s mansion.

You froze for a moment, your breath catching in your chest before you schooled your expression into something neutral. “Who said I came back for him?” you quipped, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe I missed you, you big fluff.”

Hank appeared at the top of the grand staircase, his blue fur catching the soft light streaming through the tall windows. He grinned as he descended, his heavy footsteps echoing in the quiet foyer. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he said, his tone warm and teasing. As he reached the bottom step, he opened his arms, and you moved forward, letting yourself sink into the familiar embrace.

He pulled back slightly, his large hands resting gently on your shoulders. “My dear, I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

You gave him a faint smile, setting your duffel bag down by your feet. “Well, you were right. This place has a way of sticking with you.”

Your gaze wandered, taking in the grand entryway—the polished wood floors, the scent of old books, and faint traces of Storm’s jasmine perfume lingering in the air. It felt the same as it always had, and yet different, as if the mansion itself had shifted in your absence. It had been three months since you’d left, determined to put some distance between yourself and the memories this place stirred up. But the farther you went, the more you felt the pull to come back.

Something about being here this time had gotten under your skin, burrowed into the part of you that you usually kept locked away.

Hank seemed to sense your hesitation. His perceptive blue eyes studied you carefully, the teasing edge to his voice softening. “What brought you back this time? Missing the kids already? Or…” He trailed off meaningfully, giving you a knowing look.

You rolled your eyes, stepping away to avoid his gaze. “Don’t start with me, Hank.”

“Start with what?” he asked innocently, though the twitch of his lips betrayed him.

You bent to pick up your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you moved toward the staircase. “I just felt like it was time to come back, okay? No ulterior motives.”

Hank followed you, his footsteps were heavy but deliberate. “Hmm,” he murmured, and you could feel his gaze boring into the back of your head. “I see.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gestured for you to follow him toward the sitting room. You hesitated, but the look on his face made it clear he wasn’t going to let this drop, so you sighed and followed him in.

As you stepped into the room, the crackling of a low fire greeted you, the warmth immediately chasing away the chill that had settled in your bones during your journey back. Hank moved to pour himself a cup of tea from the silver pot on the table and offered you one with a tilt of his head. You shook your head, folding your arms across your chest instead.

When Hank finally spoke, his voice was careful but direct. “Logan left shortly after you did.”

You froze, the words hitting you like a punch to the stomach. You forced yourself to stay still, to keep your expression calm. “Oh?”

Hank’s sharp eyes flicked to you over the rim of his cup. “He went to Alkali Lake.”

Your breath caught for a fraction of a second before you forced yourself to shrug casually. “Is that so? I guess he's still looking for answers.”

Hank hummed, setting the teacup down with a quiet clink. “Indeed. He seemed… restless. More so than usual. Charles sent him there.”

You shifted your weight, pretending to be absorbed in the crackling fire, but you could feel Hank watching you, his gaze pressing against the cracks in your carefully constructed mask. “Well, you know Logan. He’s not exactly one for sitting still,” you said lightly.

Hank didn’t respond immediately, but when he did, his voice was softer, more concerned. “You knew he’d leave, didn’t you?”

You frowned, turning your gaze to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hank leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he regarded you with that gentle yet unyielding intensity that only he could pull off. “You care about him,” he said simply. “And don’t try to deny it. I’ve known you too long.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat. Instead, you looked away, your fingers tightening into fists at your sides. “It doesn’t matter,” you said finally, your voice quieter now. “He doesn’t even remember me.”

“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it,” Hank said gently.

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. You cleared your throat, straightening your shoulders. “I think I’ll talk to Charles,” you said abruptly, moving toward the door.

“Of course,” Hank said, his voice soft and understanding. “But if you need to talk…”

You glanced back at him, offering a small, strained smile. “Thanks, Hank.”

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

You found Charles in his study, the quiet hum of his voice reaching you before you even entered the room. He was finishing up a conversation with Storm, who nodded at you in greeting as she passed by on her way out.

“Ah,” Charles said, his warm smile appearing as he gestured for you to come in. “It’s good to see you back.”

You hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, closing the door behind you. “Why did you send him there?”

Charles raised an eyebrow, though his expression remained calm. “Logan?”

“Yes,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “Hank said you sent him to Alkali Lake. Why?”

Charles sighed, folding his hands in his lap as his gaze turned contemplative. “Because he was searching for answers. And I thought he deserved a chance to find them.”

“At that place?” you said, your voice sharper than you intended.

Charles’s gaze softened, his eyes piercing yet kind. “You know as well as I do that Logan’s past is complicated. He came to me, searching for guidance. I simply pointed him toward where I believed he might find what he was looking for.”

You turned away, pacing to the window as you tried to steady your thoughts. Memories of Alkali Lake clawed at the edges of your mind, and the idea of Logan going back there made your chest tighten.

“He’s going to get himself killed,” you muttered.

Charles was silent for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was gentle. “He’s stronger than you think. And, perhaps, finding the truth is the only way for him to heal.”

You clenched your jaw, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “He doesn’t even know what he’s looking for,” you said quietly. “He doesn’t remember.”

Charles tilted his head, studying you carefully. “And yet, it seems to me that you do.”

You turned to face him, your arms folded tightly across your chest like a shield, but you couldn’t keep the vulnerability from your eyes as they met his. He was right, of course—he was always right. You did remember. You remembered everything.

And that was the problem.

“Sometimes,” you said softly, your voice trembling just enough to betray you, “things happen for a reason. Sometimes it’s better not to remember.”

Charles’s expression softened, his piercing gaze never wavering. He leaned back slightly in his chair, his hands folding neatly in his lap as he studied you. “Perhaps you feel that way,” he said gently, “but Logan doesn’t. He wants to remember—he longs to, even if he doesn’t realize how painful the truth could be.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening against your arms. The lump rising in your throat made it difficult to speak. “You shouldn’t have sent him there,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “You could’ve just told him. You could’ve looked into his mind and shown him.”

Charles sighed, his expression tinged with a sadness that only came from decades of making impossible decisions. “I could have,” he admitted, his voice as calm and steady as ever. “But sometimes it’s best to let one discover the truth on their own. To take the journey themselves, rather than having it handed to them.”

You shook your head, pacing a few steps toward the window before stopping, your hands bracing against the ledge as you stared out at the sprawling gardens. The sky was painted with the fiery hues of sunset, the warm colors stark against the shadows creeping across the grounds.

“You don’t know what he’s walking into,” you said, your voice quieter now but no less strained. “Alkali Lake isn’t just some mystery to solve—it’s a wound that doesn’t close. Whatever he finds there… it’ll destroy him.”

Charles’s chair creaked faintly as he shifted, his voice still calm but tinged with something deeper, something more insistent. “Logan is stronger than you think. He has endured more than most men could even imagine. And while you may see Alkali Lake as a wound, for him, it may be the key to healing.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Healing? Is that what you call it? Ripping open the past just to bleed all over again?” You turned to face him, your voice rising slightly. “You think that’s going to help him?”

Charles remained unshaken, his steady gaze meeting yours. “I think,” he said carefully, “that Logan deserves the chance to decide for himself. To understand who he was, and who he could become.”

You looked away, your jaw clenching as the weight of his words settled over you. “He doesn’t need to remember everything,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Charles. “Some things… some things are better left buried.”

Charles regarded you silently for a long moment, the silence between you heavy with unspoken truths. Finally, he spoke, his tone gentle but resolute. “You could help him.”

The words made your heart jolt, and your eyes snapped back to his, wide with surprise. “What?”

“You could help him,” Charles repeated, his gaze unyielding. “You know him. You understand his pain in ways others cannot. Perhaps you are exactly what he needs.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to protest, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head as you stepped back toward the door. “No,” you said firmly, though your voice cracked slightly. “That’s not my place. He doesn’t even remember me.”

“Perhaps not,” Charles said, tilting his head slightly. “But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel the connection. And it doesn’t mean you don’t care.”

You froze in the doorway, your hand gripping the frame as you glanced back at him. “This isn’t about me caring,” you said quietly, though even you could hear the lie in your voice. “This is about you sending him to a place that’s going to tear him apart, and expecting someone else to pick up the pieces.”

Charles’s gaze softened, his voice almost a whisper. “I’m not expecting anything, my dear. I’m simply reminding you that you have a choice. Just as he does.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening as the weight of his words pressed against the walls you’d so carefully built around yourself. Without another word, you turned and walked out, the faint echo of your footsteps fading down the hall.

Later that night, you found yourself sitting by the window in your room, the pointe shoes you’d brought with you resting in your lap. The moonlight spilled across the polished floor, painting the room in silvery shadows.

You hadn’t danced since the day Logan had interrupted you in the theatre, but now, your legs ached with the restless energy that only movement could soothe. Setting the shoes aside, you rose to your feet and began to move, the quiet hum of your memories guiding your steps.

But no matter how hard you tried to lose yourself in the rhythm, his words echoed in your mind.

“I’ve had these dreams. Flashes of… I don’t know, a forest. Snow. And you. You’re there. You’re always there.”

You faltered mid-spin, your movements slowing until you stood completely still, your chest heaving with shallow breaths. The memories he didn’t fully understand were ones you couldn’t forget. The snow, the forest, the way his eyes—wilder, more broken than—had locked onto yours as if you were the only thing tethering him to the world.

You sat back down on the edge of the bed, resting your head in your hands. You had told yourself that coming back to the mansion was about the kids, about the familiar comforts of a place you’d once called home. But deep down, you knew it was about him.

And now he was gone.

You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or heartbroken, but one thing was certain—if Logan ever truly remembered everything, you weren’t sure either of you would survive it.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

You descended the staircase beside Hank, nodding absentmindedly as he launched into an animated explanation of his latest research—something about neural pathways and genetic mutations. It was fascinating, you were sure, but your thoughts had drifted. A week had passed since you returned to the mansion, and yet it still felt strange to slip so easily back into the rhythm of this place, like stepping into an old pair of shoes you’d forgotten you owned.

“Logan! You’re back!”

Rogue’s excited voice cut through the air, and you froze mid-step, your hand tightening on the polished wood of the banister. Your eyes darted to the entrance below, where Logan stood just inside the door, a worn duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He looked as gruff as ever, his jacket unzipped and his hair slightly mussed, but there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as Rogue darted across the hall to embrace him.

You lingered on the stairs, watching the exchange with a small smile. Rogue stepped back, saying something too low for you to hear, and Logan responded with a grunt that made her laugh. The sight of it tugged at something in your chest—something you weren’t ready to name.

“Wonder why he’s back,” Hank said beside you, his voice low and tinged with curiosity.

You didn’t miss the knowing look he gave you, and you sighed, swatting his arm lightly. “Don’t start,” you said, your voice teasing but edged with a hint of nervousness.

Still, your heart raced, betraying the calm exterior you were trying so hard to maintain. The thought crossed your mind—fleeting and impossible—that maybe Logan had come back because you were here. But no. That wasn’t how things worked. You had left before him, made it clear you didn’t intend to stay, and Logan… well, Logan wasn’t the sentimental type.

As you descended the last few steps, Hank still at your side, Logan’s gaze lifted. His smirk faded as his sharp eyes found yours, and for a second, something flickered across his face. Surprise? Relief? It was gone before you could name it, replaced by his usual guarded expression.

“You… made it back,” you said, your voice softer than you intended as you offered him a faint smile.

Logan’s brow twitched, and he set his duffel bag down by his feet. “Looks like we both did,” he said gruffly, his voice carrying that familiar gravelly tone that always sounded like he’d just woken up.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you admitted, stepping off the last stair. “But, you know… this place has a way of dragging you back.”

“Yeah,” Logan said, his lips twitching as though he might smile. “Does that.”

There was a beat of silence, not quite awkward but heavy enough to feel like the air between you had changed somehow. Hank, ever the socially astute one, cleared his throat and patted you lightly on the shoulder. “Well, I’ll leave you two to… catch up. I have some experiments to check on.”

You shot him a warning look, but he just grinned and disappeared down the hall dragging Rogue along with him. Leaving you alone with Logan.

“So,” you said after a moment, folding your arms casually. “Alkali Lake. Find what you were looking for?”

Logan let out a low huff, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Nah. Nothin’ there but snow and bad memories.”

You nodded, though your chest tightened at his words. You’d told yourself you wouldn’t let this get to you, wouldn’t let your emotions bubble to the surface. But it was hard. You knew what Alkali Lake meant, not just to him but to you as well.

“Well,” you said lightly, forcing a smirk. “Guess you can cross that one off the list.”

“Yeah,” he said, watching you carefully. “Guess so.”

There was a pause, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were working up to something. You shifted under his gaze, feeling the weight of it settle on your shoulders.

“What?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Had another dream,” he said suddenly, his tone casual, but there was an edge to it, something unspoken lingering beneath his words.

You froze, your smirk faltering. “Oh yeah?”

Logan nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “You were in it again.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, but you forced yourself to play it cool. “You sure it wasn’t Rogue this time? Or Storm? Maybe I’m just a stand-in for all the women in your life.”

He huffed out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Nah. It was you.” He stepped a little closer, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly, studying your face as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle. “This time you were… dancin’.”

The breath hitched in your throat, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. You broke eye contact, looking down at the scuffed floorboards. “Sounds like a weird dream,” you said, your voice quiet.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone softer now. “Weird thing is, it felt… familiar.”

You looked back up at him sharply, your stomach twisting. “Familiar how?”

Logan shrugged, the movement almost too casual, but his brow furrowed as though he were trying to make sense of something. “Don’t know. I just… felt like I’d seen it before. You, up on some stage or somethin’, spinnin’ around. There was music. Somethin’ old… Swan Lake, maybe?”

Your throat tightened. The memory flashed in your mind—the theatre, the faint strains of Swan Lake, the way you’d let yourself get lost in the dance only to find Logan watching you from the shadows.

“Well,” you said finally, forcing a smirk. “Maybe you’re just jealous of my skills.”

Logan snorted, his lips twitching upward. “Yeah, sure. That’s it.”

He held your gaze for a second longer, and you thought you saw the faintest flicker of something in his eyes—something uncertain, almost vulnerable. But then he stepped back, picking up his duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Good to see you back,” he said gruffly, his voice dropping just enough that you almost missed it. “Place is better with you here.”

Before you could respond, he turned and started walking down the hall, leaving you standing there, your chest tight and your thoughts swirling.

Logan might not remember everything, but the pieces were there buried just beneath the surface. And whether you liked it or not, it seemed those pieces included you.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

“Charles suggested I… help him,” you said, your tone sharp as you leaned against Hank’s lab table. The polished steel was cold under your hands, grounding you as you tried to organize your thoughts. “Can you believe that? The old man won’t use his powers to look inside Logan’s mind, but he expects me to do it—in some weird, roundabout sense.”

Hank hummed thoughtfully, his attention divided as he adjusted the burner beneath a bubbling beaker. “Charles has his methods,” he said evenly. “Though I suspect he thinks you’d be a better help because you… knew Logan. From before.”

Your stomach tightened, and you crossed your arms over your chest, your gaze dropping to the tiled floor. “Hank, I’ve known almost everyone. I’ve been alive longer than any of you. It doesn’t mean I have all the answers.” You hesitated, then added in a softer voice, “And you can’t expect me to just… spill my guts to him. What if it triggers something in him? The feral side?”

That made Hank pause. He looked up from his work, concern creasing his blue-furred face. “I’ve heard about that side of him,” he said cautiously, “but I’ve never seen it in person.” His voice lowered. “Have you?”

The question made your chest tighten even more, your heart thudding against your ribs. You turned away, your eyes settling on a shelf of meticulously labeled vials, pretending to study them.

“We’ve seen it, haven’t we?” Hank pressed, his tone gentler now.

Finally, you nodded, the memory bubbling to the surface unbidden. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “I’ve seen it.”

Hank tilted his head, his expression shifting from curiosity to quiet concern. “My dear,” he said carefully, “you’ve always made it seem as though you knew Logan in passing… like acquaintances from a battlefield. But…” His voice trailed off, and he straightened, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as realization dawned. “You’re not telling me something, are you?”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as if to dismiss the thought. “Hank, it doesn’t matter. It happened a long time ago. Just let it go.”

“What happened a long time ago?”

You gritted your teeth, frustration flaring in your chest. “It’s complicated,” you said, your voice low.

“I’ve got time,” Hank replied simply, leaning against the counter and folding his massive arms across his chest.

You threw him a look, but the patience in his gaze—the quiet, unyielding kind that Hank was so good at—made you falter. You pushed off the table and started to pace, running a hand through your hair as you tried to organize your thoughts.

“I met Logan decades ago,” you began, your voice tight. “During a war. A different one from the ones the X-Men are used to. He wasn’t like he is now. He was wilder, more dangerous. Barely in control of himself. A weapon, not a man.”

Hank’s brows furrowed. “Weapon X?”

You shook your head. “No. This was before that. This was… something else. Something darker.”

You stopped pacing, your arms falling to your sides as the memory gripped you. “I was passing through this remote town in the Canadian Rockies. Just trying to stay out of the way, you know? That’s what I did back then. I didn’t get involved. Didn’t put down roots. And then…” You swallowed hard, your voice dropping. “Then I heard the screams.”

Hank’s ears twitched, his expression unreadable as he watched you.

“There were bodies,” you continued, your voice distant now. “Shredded. Blood everywhere. And in the middle of it was him. Logan. He wasn’t himself—not the man you know now. He was… feral. An animal. He couldn’t even speak. Just growled and snarled like a beast.”

Hank adjusted his glasses, his expression turning grim. “And you fought him?”

You let out a dry laugh, though there was no humor in it. “I tried. I had to. He was killing anything that moved. I thought I could stop him, but… I underestimated him. He tore through me like paper.”

Hank’s eyes widened. “But your healing—”

“Exactly,” you cut in, nodding. “He saw me heal. Saw me get back up when I should’ve stayed down. I think it… confused him. Maybe even snapped him out of it a little. He stopped attacking me, but he didn’t calm down completely. He just… stared at me. Like he didn’t know whether to rip me apart or run.”

“And what did you do?”

You hesitated, your gaze drifting to the window. The late afternoon light spilled into the lab, casting long shadows across the floor. “I didn’t run,” you said softly. “I stayed. I talked to him. Calmed him down somehow. It was like he recognized something in me, though I didn’t know what it was at the time. I stayed with him for weeks after that. Helped him regain some sense of himself. Taught him how to fight his instincts. We… we bonded.”

The last words came out quieter than you intended, and you felt Hank’s gaze sharpen.

“You didn’t just know him,” Hank said slowly, as though the pieces were finally coming together. “You cared about him.”

You looked away, your jaw tightening. “I left when he got better. Disappeared. I thought it was for the best. And now he doesn’t even remember me. So, yeah, Charles wants me to help him, but I don’t know if I can. And even if I could… I don’t know if I should.”

The room was quiet for a long moment, the bubbling of the beaker the only sound. Finally, Hank sighed, his voice softer now. “Perhaps you underestimate how much of you he might still remember, even if it’s not clear to him yet.”

You shook your head, the weight of your thoughts pressing down like an old, familiar burden. “He doesn’t remember. At least, not the whole picture. And honestly? It’s better that way.” Your voice softened, but a bitter edge crept into it. “He shouldn’t have to remember all the pain he caused. All the blood.”

Hank froze for a moment, his hands stilling over the set of vials he was arranging. The soft hum of the equipment filled the silence as he carefully chose his words. “I understand—”

“No, you don’t.” You cut him off, the sharpness in your tone surprising even yourself. You turned toward him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Hank, if you had lived as long as we have… seen the things we’ve seen, done the things we’ve done… You’d want to forget too. You’d want it wiped clean, all of it. Trust me.”

Hank straightened, his broad shoulders rising slightly as he considered your words. “You’re speaking for Logan,” he said slowly, his voice calm but firm. “You’re deciding for him.”

Your eyes flicked away, focusing on the far corner of the lab. It was easier than meeting his gaze.

“It’s not like Logan was given a choice back then,” Hank continued, his tone softening but losing none of its weight. “And now he has one. A chance to choose for himself who he wants to be—what he wants to know. You’re taking that away from him by deciding for him.”

The words hit harder than you wanted to admit, threading a knot of tension through your chest. You opened your mouth to argue, to say something to push back against Hank’s steady reasoning, but no words came.

Instead, you closed your eyes, exhaling slowly through your nose. “I’m not taking anything away from him,” you said finally, your voice tight. “I’m just trying to protect him.”

“Protect him?” Hank asked, his eyebrows rising slightly. “From what? From himself?”

“From the truth!” you snapped, your voice rising before you could stop it. The words hung in the air between you, raw and unfiltered, and you took a step back, shaking your head as if to banish the emotions bubbling to the surface.

Hank studied you carefully, his blue eyes searching yours. “You don’t believe he deserves the truth, do you?”

Your laugh came out bitter, almost hollow. “Deserve? What does that even mean? Deserve doesn’t matter when it comes to this. What Logan’s been through, what he’s done—he deserves peace. And that’s not something he’s going to find at the bottom of a memory.”

Hank tilted his head, his expression a mix of empathy and challenge. “You think peace is ignorance?”

“I think…” you said slowly, your voice faltering. “I think there are some things you can’t come back from. Some things you shouldn’t have to come back from.”

“And yet he keeps fighting,” Hank said, his voice quieter now. “Every day, Logan fights to be better. To be more than what he’s been through, more than what was done to him. But you… you’re standing in his way.”

His words struck like a blow, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

“I’m not standing in his way,” you said finally, but the words felt hollow.

“Are you sure about that?” Hank asked, his tone gentle but unwavering.

You turned away, gripping the edge of the lab table so tightly your knuckles turned white. “He doesn’t need to remember me,” you said after a long pause, your voice barely above a whisper. “Or what happened back then. He doesn’t need to carry that weight.”

Hank hesitated before stepping closer, his voice soft but unrelenting. “Maybe. But are you sure this is about what he needs? Or is it about what you don’t want to face?”

The question hung in the air like a loaded gun, and you couldn’t bring yourself to answer it.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

Later that night, you found yourself sitting alone on the stage, the empty theatre shrouded in silence. Your legs stretched out in front of you, the ribbons of your pointe shoes loose around your ankles. Though the music had long since stopped, the soft strings of a violin still lingered in your mind, weaving through the restless thoughts you couldn’t escape.

Dancing used to help, used to be your escape when the weight of everything threatened to crush you. It felt like it only made things worse. The memories, the what-ifs, the fears you’d buried so deeply—all of it rose to the surface when you moved. Hank had been right, and you hated it.

It wasn’t just about Logan. It was about you. About the things you didn’t want to revisit, the things you’d worked so hard to leave behind. The terrifying truth was, if Logan ever pieced it all together—if he ever remembered everything—you weren’t sure either of you could handle it.

The quiet creak of the double doors opening snapped you out of your thoughts. You froze, your hands resting on your ankles as Logan stepped into the theatre, the dim light catching the sharp angles of his face. He looked more relaxed than he had when you first saw him after returning from Alkali Lake, like some of the tension he always carried had finally eased. Maybe his trip had given him some kind of closure. Maybe it had only left him with more questions.

You didn’t know which possibility scared you more.

You dropped your gaze to your pointe shoes, fingers fumbling with the ribbons as if untying them could somehow distract you from the way Logan’s gaze lingered on you.

He snorted, the sound soft but amused as he moved farther into the room. “Didn’t feel like dancin’ tonight?” he asked, his gravelly voice carrying a faint teasing edge.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the faint smile that tugged at your lips. “What do you want, Logan?”

He shrugged, stepping farther down the aisle until he was close enough for you to feel the weight of his presence. His expression shifted, the smirk fading as his sharp eyes narrowed. “Figured I’d check in. You’ve been avoidin’ me since I got back.”

“I’ve been busy,” you said quickly, tugging your pointe shoes off and setting them beside you. The excuse sounded thin even to your ears.

“Yeah,” Logan said, his voice flat as he folded his arms over his chest. “Sure you have.”

You sighed, pulling your legs up onto the stage and crossing them in front of you as if the position could shield you from the intensity of his gaze. “What do you want, Logan?”

His gaze dropped to the floor before lifting again to meet yours. “I think we both know the answer to that,” he said quietly, stepping closer to the edge of the stage. “You’re keepin’ stuff from me.”

Your breath caught, and you forced yourself to laugh softly, shaking your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you do,” Logan said, his voice low and firm. He stepped up onto the stage, closing the distance between you. “You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.”

You looked away, focusing on the empty rows of seats stretching out into the shadows of the theatre. “Logan, I—”

“Cut the crap,” he interrupted, his tone sharper now. “Every time I get close to somethin’, you shut me out. Every time I try to figure out what the hell’s goin’ on in my head, you’re there, lookin’ at me like you already know the answers.” He paused, his voice softening just enough to make your chest ache. “You do, don’t you?”

Your hands tightened in your lap, your nails digging into your palms as you tried to steady your breathing. “It’s not that simple,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan snorted, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “Nothin’s ever simple with you, is it?”

“Logan, please,” you said, finally meeting his gaze. “Let it go.”

He shook his head, stepping even closer until he was standing right in front of you. “No. Not this time.” His voice was quiet but resolute, the kind of tone that left no room for argument. “I went to Alkali Lake and found nothin’ but ghosts. I keep havin’ these dreams, these flashes, and half the time, you’re in ‘em. You tell me to let it go? How the hell am I supposed to do that when I know there’s more? When I know you’re holdin’ somethin’ back?”

You stared at him, your chest tightening under the weight of his words. “You don’t want to remember,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Not all of it. Trust me, Logan. You don’t.”

His jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “That’s not your call to make.”

“Isn’t it?” you shot back, your voice rising as the emotions you’d been suppressing finally broke free. “Do you have any idea what’s buried in your head? What remembering could do to you?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a dangerous quiet. “What’s buried in yours?”

The question hit like a punch to the gut, and all you could do was stare at him. Finally, you looked away, your gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s not about me,” you said weakly.

“Bullshit,” Logan said, stepping closer until he was towering over you. “This is about you just as much as it’s about me. You’re scared, aren’t you? Scared of what I’ll remember. Of what it’ll mean for you.”

Your throat tightened, and you swallowed hard, fighting back the sting of tears. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Logan crouched in front of you, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were sharp, but there was something softer, almost pleading. “Then tell me. Tell me what I don’t know.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill over as you whispered, “I can’t.”

“Why?” Logan’s voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw the vulnerability beneath his gruff exterior. “Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because it’ll break you,” you said, your voice trembling. “And I can’t be the one to do that to you, Logan. I won’t.”

The two of you just stared at each other, the silence between you heavy with unspoken truths. Finally, Logan stood, running a hand through his hair as he stepped back.

“I’m not gonna stop,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I’m not gonna stop until I figure it out. Until I figure us out.”

You looked up at him, your heart aching at the determination in his eyes. “Logan—”

He shook his head, cutting you off, his tone low but firm. “No more runnin’, darlin’. Not from me. Not from this.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, blinking hard to fight the tears threatening to spill. “You—you can’t just expect me to tell you everything,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Why not?” Logan said, his gaze piercing as he stepped closer. “Is it a long story? I’ve got the time—we both do.” His voice softened slightly at the end, but the determination in his tone didn’t waver.

You let out a shaky laugh, wiping at your face with the back of your hand. “It’s not that simple.”

“All I hear are excuses,” Logan snapped, his frustration bleeding into his voice. “Excuses from Chuck about my mind bein’ too fragile. Excuses about how I’ve gotta ‘find the answers myself.’” He gestured toward you, his movements sharp. “And now excuses from you about dreams bein’ just dreams. Do you think I can’t handle it? You think I don’t deserve to know what the hell’s been bouncin’ around in my head all this time?”

“It’s not about what you deserve, Logan!” you shot back, your voice cracking as you stood suddenly, your body tense with emotion. “It’s about what you can survive. You don’t know the weight of it—the guilt, the anger, the regret. You think finding all the pieces is going to fix you, but it’s not. It’s just going to break you more.”

Logan stared at you, his jaw tight, his fists clenched at his sides. But something in his eyes—something raw and pleading—made you falter. His voice softened, the edge fading. “Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t. But it’s not your call to make. It’s mine.”

The truth of his words cut through your defenses like claws, and you sank back onto the stage, your hands gripping your knees as you tried to steady your breathing. The silence between you stretched, heavy and charged.

Finally, you broke it, your voice quiet but resolute. “Fine.”

Logan’s head tilted slightly, his sharp gaze narrowing as he tried to gauge your meaning.

“I’ll tell you,” you said, swallowing hard as you looked up at him. “But I can’t promise it’s going to be pretty. And I can’t promise it’s not going to hurt.”

Logan’s posture relaxed ever so slightly, and he exhaled, his shoulders dropping as he moved toward you. He sat down beside you on the stage, the movement slow and deliberate. His elbow brushed against yours, and the quiet warmth of his presence steadied the storm inside you, if only for a moment.

“I ain’t lookin’ for pretty,” he said quietly, his tone gentle now. “And I’m not afraid of hurtin’. Just… tell me the truth. That’s all I want.”

You stared at the floor for a long moment, your hands twisting in your lap as memories you’d buried for years rose to the surface, raw and unrelenting. Finally, you took a deep breath, your voice shaking as you began. “We crossed paths again a long time ago.”

Logan frowned slightly, his brows furrowing. “Again?”

You nodded, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “It was…after everything happened when I first found you.” You hesitated, your voice dropping. “I thought I’d never see you again. Honestly, I hoped I wouldn’t. Not because I didn’t care, but because… because you deserved a fresh start. You needed one.”

Logan didn’t respond, but his silence was expectant, urging you to continue.

“I was in New York,” you said softly, a faint, bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. “Dancing. There was this small theatre, nothing fancy, but it was mine. I was performing that night—Swan Lake, actually. I remember being backstage, nerves eating at me like they always did before a show. And then the curtain rose, and I…” You paused, shaking your head at the memory. “I saw you. In the audience.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. “Me?”

You nodded, your smile fading. “You were sitting in the second row, staring at me like you’d seen a ghost. I almost stumbled through my first few steps because I couldn’t believe it was you. You looked… different. Cleaner. Put together. But the way you watched me—it was like you remembered something. Something buried.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and his gaze dropped to the floor as if searching for the memory.

“When the performance ended,” you continued, “I went backstage, thinking you’d leave. That maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me. But when I came out, you were still there. Waiting. I didn’t know what to say, but then you said it first.”

Logan glanced at you, his voice quiet. “What’d I say?”

You hesitated, the memory sharp in your mind. “You said, ‘It’s you. You’re the one who helped me.’”

His expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as though trying to piece together fragments of a puzzle. “I remembered you?”

“Some of it,” you said softly. “Not everything, but enough. Enough to know we’d met before. Enough to know I’d helped you when you weren’t… yourself.” You exhaled shakily, your hands trembling in your lap. “We went out afterward. Got drinks at some dingy little bar down the street. You asked me why I helped you back then, and I didn’t know how to answer. So I told you the truth.”

Logan looked at you, his voice rough. “What truth?”

You met his gaze, your eyes glassy. “That I didn’t want to. That I’d seen what you were capable of, and it terrified me. But there was something about you, Logan. Something human buried under all that rage. And I thought… I thought if I could just reach you, maybe you wouldn’t be lost forever.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your confession settling between you like a fragile thread. Logan’s gaze didn’t leave yours, his expression unreadable but his eyes impossibly soft.

“You were right,” he said finally, his voice low but steady.

You blinked, your breath catching. “What?”

“You reached me,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don’t remember all of it, but I know one thing: you didn’t let me go. You could’ve, but you didn’t. And that…” He shook his head, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “That’s somethin’ I won’t forget, even if the details are gone.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you looked away, wiping at them quickly. “I don’t know if I helped you, Logan. Not really.”

“You did,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “You still do.”

The words hung in the air but they carried a weight that settled deep in your chest. Logan reached over, his rough hand covering yours briefly before pulling back. The touch was fleeting but enough to let you know he meant it.

[odxrilove]

BIRTHDAY BOY

PAIRING: mingyu x f!reader

GENRE: fluff, friends to lovers, bday party!au? kinda confession!au, uni!au but not really mentionned

WARNINGS: , flirting, swearing, alchohol, drinking, one mention of being high (not yn or seventeen), etc typical party stuff, game of truth or dare, minghao is annoying x1 (jk), yn gets jealous a bit, yn and mingyu are in love ewwww, huge make-out session (borderline smut...) (JKKK. or am i), lots of tension + more?

WC: +8.1k

SYNOPSIS: It’s Mingyu’s birthday party, and Hoshi lets something out under the influence of alcohol. Apparently, you have two gifts prepared for him– completely throwing out the one-gift tradition your friend group strictly follows. However, Hoshi’s a liar — and a bad one at that — but it’s already too late. Even though Mingyu knows he’s supposed to be excited about all the gifts he’s receiving tonight, he’s (not so surprisingly) only interested in everything you’re giving him.

A/N: thank u so so much to sara the loml pookie bear (@4xiaojun) for reading it so many times over the past few months and hyping me up ! i couldnt have finished this fic if it wasnt for u ily bae !!!! &&& rec song - i dont understand but i luv u by seventeen 

FIC TAGLIST: @etherealyoungk @simpforyongbokk @luvhyun3 @nhularin @matchahyuck @graybaeismytae @mark-geolli @esloao @jaklvbub @sukistrawberry @raggedypansexual

back to masterlist !

“Having fun?”

The music is loud, resonating off the walls and making your ears ring. But even if you barely hear your own thoughts over the noise, mingyu’s smooth voice fills your ears.

You change your weight from one foot to another, bringing the red cup to your lips and taking a sip of your drink. The alcohol isn’t cold anymore and you slightly grimace at the way it burns your throat when you decide to empty your cup. You pull the cup away from your mouth, bumping it deliberately against his before crossing your arms and looking up at him.

“Yeah. Even more so now that you’re here.”

His already pretty smile widens and his little vampire teeth appear as he throws his head back to laugh. Your mind is hazy from the alcohol and you’re a bit tipsy, glossy eyes staring at his neck. You always thought mingyu’s skin was so pretty.

Mingyu takes a look around the room before focusing on you again, leaning with his shoulder on the wall next to you. He’s tall and looking down at you, it makes you smile a little.

His heart beats in his chest at the sight of your cherry lips, still wet from the drink. He doesn’t think he’s seen you wearing this lip color before, recounting all the times you came to hangouts wearing anything else than lip balm. The color suits you though, he thinks.

Unconsciously, his eyes wander to your cup before landing on the white plastic rim, the red trace of your lip gloss making him shudder.

The glint in your eyes is mischievous when he makes eye contact with you again. He sees you looking him up and down and he has to yell at his own mind when certain thoughts enter his head. He can sense how you fill up with pride at the sight of him wearing the watch you just gifted him, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“You’re already wearing it?” your body turns to him a bit and he leans down even more at the same time, faces centimeters away from each other. He lifts his hand up with a grin, pushing his shirt sleeves up his arms even more when he notices you eyeing them.

This time, you smile so big Mingyu almost awes at the sight. You force yourself to stop smiling and look away but your happiness can be heard through your slightly playful voice. “The others wouldn’t be happy to hear that, y’know?”

Mingyu wiggles his fingers and flexes his arm, making you giggle and uncross your arms in the process. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s my favorite gift.”

He tilts his head to the side, ruffling his styled hair with his ring-clad hands. Mingyu isn’t much of a ring-wearer but when he does, it fills your stomach with butterflies– not that that doesn’t happen on a daily basis.

“Who said the others have to know?” His stare makes you feel weak, knees almost buckling under you. You lean back on the wall for support, something he definitely catches up onto with the way he smirks. “Let’s say this is our little secret, yeah?”

You blush when you realize he’s, again, wearing the rings you gifted him months prior for secret santa.

Mingyu turns to lean against the wall with his back, facing the crowd as he lets himself drown into the loud music and the warmth your body radiates, shoulders touching. Your friend crouches down a bit, legs stretching on the ground and head close to your neck. With a sigh, he plops his head on your shoulder, turning to hide against you. He grabs your hips and holds his arm around your waist, audibly whining against your neck.

You nod silently, picking at the rim of your cup. From how close the two of you are, Mingyu can count your lashes, admire your face and the way your lips curl into a smile when you see your friends having fun on the other side of the room.

His breath tickles your skin and you realize mingyu’s just as tipsy as you are.

“You know what Hoshi told me?” he starts off, voice small and softer than usual. You guess he’s a bit tired from partying all night. It’s only a few seconds later that you look at him, smiling and humming when he silently waits for an answer. “He said you had a second gift for me.”

The man, who’s supposed to be 6.1ft tall, seems to shrink even more at your question, pouting and eyebrows furrowing. He glares at you before his eyes turn soft, hugging your body from the side. “You know I didn’t mean it like that~” His voice is slurry and you laugh at him, patting his head and passing your fingers through his hair.

Ah Hoshi, he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t go around spilling secrets and creating drama. You avert your eyes, suddenly finding the fabric of Mingyu’s shirt very interesting. “Is the watch not enough for you? ‘didn’t know you would be so greedy, gyu.”

You nod again, fixing a few strands of hair on top of his head. “I like your hair like this.”

“Yeah? You think I’m handsome?”

Mingyu abruptly gets up, rolling his shoulders back to stand up straighter. He lets out a mix between a gasp and a chuckle before turning towards a mirror near where you’re leaning against the wall. He passes his hand through his hair, going over the spots you didn't touch and paying extra attention to not mess up the ones you previously styled as he smiles. Suddenly, his tone turns confident as he examines himself in the glass, winking and adjusting the sleeves of his shirt.

You try your best to keep a straight face but the alcohol in your system makes it a difficult task. “Of course, you’re always handsome.”

Mingyu seems to light up at your words, a big smile on his face as he returns to where you are, choosing to lean against the wall on your other side. You know he’s up to something with the way he looks at you but you don’t question it– he’s mainly harmless so you have nothing to worry about.

To Mingyu's surprise, you don’t deny it. 

He taps his pointer finger on his chin, pursing his lips and giggling, “Could it be that you’re flirting with me?”

He swears he can see a teasing look in your eyes before it quickly disappears, making him gulp. He can’t even question you about it more before you’re intertwining your fingers together, holding his hand close and walking away from the wall. Mingyu feels like a puppy following his owner, tail wagging and tongue lolling out as he watches you drag him to the other room, discarding your empty cup on a random counter.

With a loud sigh, you plop down next to the armrest, dragging Mingyu down with you, squishing his big body between Hoshi and you. He looks at you and pouts as you let your head fall back on the couch, closing your eyes for a few seconds as the loud music resonates off the walls. 

When the two of you enter the living room, you’re not even surprised to see some of your friends gate-keeping the couches, seemingly playing a drinking game. Hoshi is one of the drunker ones and you walk past him to get to the bigger couch, ruffling his hair as he stares with empty eyes at a framed photo hung up on the wall. He’s still out of it so you quickly scratch the underside of his chin with your nails and he perks up, immediately scooting over to give you and Mingyu some space on the couch.

You feel Mingyu’s hand resting on your forearm, slowly dragging up and down as he intensely watches goosebumps rise up on your arm. When Hoshi seems to get dragged into a conversation between Joshua and Seungkwan, voices fill the room and you joyfully listen, letting Mingyu take your hand in his. 

His skin feels soft against yours and his thumb draws circles on the back of your hand. You turn towards him, leaning further against the armrest as he smiles at you. He’s cute you think, he’s always been cute. 

And then Mingyu brings your intertwined hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of your hand delicately and smiling into the sweet kiss.

His eyes sparkle, the party lights making him shine. His hair is ruffled from the many hugs he received from his friends and his cheeks are rosy from the alcohol.

Suddenly, it feels like you two are the only ones there, like there aren’t dozens of partygoers stumbling around Mingyu’s apartment. It’s weird, how you stare at each other in absolute delight, ignoring everyone around you as if Seungcheol wasn’t calling out both your names for a game of truth or dare.

It’s Mingyu who first snaps out of it, having been elbowed in the ribs by Hoshi next to him. He grumbles in pain but lifts himself off the couch anyways, extending his hand out to you and winking at you. You laugh and place your hand in his, his warmth sending shivers over your spine. 

Mingyu hoists you up from the couch and immediately wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you so close to him that your free hand lands on his chest. He tilts his head slightly and comes closer, mouth inches away from your ear. 

“I’m happy you came. Thank you.”

Mingyu pulls back with a slight blush on his cheeks, the tip of his ears read. A shy smile covers his lips and for a moment you’re not sure if you’re able to speak. You shallow and find your vocabulary again, thoughts racing in your mind. 

When you speak up, eyes locked into his, Mingyu thinks he could pass out from the sugary sweet tone in your voice. 

“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

With a silent nod of his head in the direction of the hallway towards his friends, you put your hand in his again and lead the way, zigzagging between guests. 

—

“So, you really made out with that girl during summer camp? There’s no way that’s true.”

Laughter fills the room as you once again find yourself in the living room with Mingyu and his closest friends. At first, you had all followed one of the guys to the kitchen for a game of truth or dare until one of the partygoers threw up right on the stark white kitchen tiles, pausing the game and consequently pushing the group back to the sacred couches. 

Jun yells at Dino, hitting the latter on the shoulder and downing his drink. The younger one cackles, teasing Jun more for his confession. “Shut up, dickhead. I’m not saying anything else, just know that she was the one who initiated it.” 

His answer doesn’t convince Dino in the slightest and he just continues to laugh, falling backwards on the beanbag he’s currently occupying.

Mingyu’s laugh fills your ears, the joyful sound bringing a smile to your lips. You’re sitting right next to him again, but this time with your back to the armrest, one leg dangling off the couch and the other one blocked under the latter. Your heel digs into the skin of your thigh and unfortunately for you, it’s starting to feel like you have pins and needles in your legs.

You openly wince at the prickly sensation and squirm around, trying to release your hurt leg as you support yourself on the armrest, your feet on the floor slipping. Even with all the laughter and noise in the room– and Hoshi’s sudden barking, Mingyu notices and turns to you with worried eyes. You’re pouting without knowing it and he finds it hard to stare away from your lips, forcing himself to help instead.

What you didn’t expect however, was for him to pull your legs over his, in his lap, after you sat back down. You can feel your face heating up and you’re sure that your ears are full on red at this point. Mingyu knows the effect his action had on you, smirking while pretending like he’s absorbed by the current conversation– or more so an argument between Seungkwan and Dino about who used to have the best math grades in high school.

A gentle hand places itself on the side of your knee, helping you lift your leg as he guides you up with his other hand on your waist, respectfully and only after your nod of affirmation.

The boy continues to act like nothing is going on, seeming calm while his heart beats loudly in his chest. There is so much going on, the music resonating off the walls and friendly banter in the background, but Mingyu’s only focus is on the way your breath hitches when he hoists one of your legs up in his lap. He grabs onto your ankle, near the strap of your high heel and your leg soon joins the other one in his lap.

Mingyu’s being careful with his movements, unsure if he’s crossing a boundary or not– unsure if he just ruined one of his best friendships just because his heart couldn’t keep itself in check. But then you grin, eyes sparkling wide and radiant as you look at his hand on your ankle.

It’s a silent game of back and forth– Mingyu’s looking at you to see your reaction and you avoid his gaze, knowingly, to stare at his pretty hand running up and down your calf. Mingyu knows you would have said something if you disapproved of his action but he’s still feeling like a high school boy with a crush on someone for the first time, worrying about every small thing.

On the other hand, you are glowing, happiness and excitement radiating off you. You feel weird, butterflies erupting in your stomach as if you weren’t already aware of how much Mingyu could affect you– how he could make you fall in love with him over and over again.

Actually, if he thinks about it, he is a boy with a crush on someone– you, just not as a high school boy anymore since he graduated long ago.

You snap out of your little bubble, again, and for once you are grateful for Joshua. Because you’re almost hundred percent sure Mingyu was starting to trace hearts on your thigh. And you certainly didn’t know how much longer you could survive his constant flirting.

When your eyes lock, there’s a look and nod of agreement between you. And then his hand is on your upper thigh, thumb brushing circles on your skin.

“Truth or dare! Yn and Mingyu, you two are playing this round!”

Even with the guys’ screaming in the background, you hold eye contact with him for a little bit longer, just in time to see his eyebrows relax and his gaze soften before you’re diverting your eyes. 

“Isn’t truth or dare something you play in middle school?” You tease your friends, trying to lift yourself off the couch to sit up straighter so that other people can join and use the couch. Before you can do so and pull your legs off Mingyu’s lap, he stops you with a hand on your knee, looking at you with furrowed brows.

“Cmon Yn, truth or dare is a classic. Even us oldies have to play it once in a while!” Dino exclaims, unaware of the sudden tension rising from your couch.

A loud slap is heard before Dino winces, turning around to face the culprit as Scoups menacingly points at him, “Ya! Who are you calling old!” They continue to argue for a bit, with Dino calling the oldest, well, old and Scoups pushing the youngest off the beanbag and on the floor.

Normally, you would have paid more attention to it, the friendly banter bringing you much joy, but this time your mind is focused on something else.

If Mingyu tried to talk to you right now, you would barely be able to hear it over the loud music, but he doesn’t talk to you, his gaze tells you enough. “Don’t” is what you understand he’s trying to say and you let out a deep breath. He’s still staring at you, hand still on your knee and his eyes seem to be pleading you to stay.

At that moment, you realize you could probably never say no to Mingyu.

So you set your legs back down in his lap, readjusting your dress so that you don’t flash everybody. When Mingyu realizes you decided to stay, he sends you a big smile, teeth on display. And when he smiles at you like that, you would trade every couch in the damn world to see it a bit longer. You don’t even care anymore about the other party goers who might have wanted to join the game, Mingyu and you clearly taking up the whole couch, with a drunk Dk squished to Mingyu’s right side.

“Hey lovebirds! We said you two are playing, pay attention instead of staring at each other!” 

The game in itself isn’t that bothersome– your friends are mainly having fun, bickering and throwing each other under the bus when it comes to revealing not so important secrets. It’s pretty entertaining to watch and you take pleasure in it, but you can’t concentrate fully on Jeonghan’s story about how he saw his high school math teacher and science teacher, both married with kids, making out together in the science lab ten years prior. And all that because of the eyes boring into the side of your head. 

You huff when you still feel his eyes on you after Woozi downed his drink, poking Mingyu in the ribs. A quiet yelp leaves his mouth and you smirk, triumphantly, crossing your arms proudly, chin high. 

That is until Minghao turns towards you, pinky lifting from his glass and pointing your way. “Yn, truth or dare?” 

Your cheeks grow hot, being caught off guard as you sink into the armrest of the couch. You take a moment to think. You know Minghao isn’t the type to completely humiliate you if you decided to choose dare, he’s actually rather laidback with you, but you also remember accidentally spilling his last cup of his favorite tea right on his lap when you all went to visit his new apartment a week prior. And since Minghao’s pretty protective of his tea, you’d prefer to avoid walking right into the cage of a wild and unpredictable animal. 

And as the red-haired boy looks at you, waiting for your answer with a slight smirk on his face, you’re sure you made the right choice. 

“Truth. I don’t want to leave this place covered in a mix of glitter and cereal or something.” 

Truth it is. And could Truth possibly do even any harm?

Minghao hums, taking a last sip of his drink before finally speaking up. “Wise choice. Or not. Yn, of all the people in this room, who’s the guy you’re crushing on?” 

Okay, so apparently Truth can do a lot of harm. 

Your eyes widen, your mouth falling open in sock as everyone turns to look at you, some whispering between themselves and some even giggling. 

You definitely did not think this through enough. 

Mighao tilts his head a bit and you don’t waste a second more before you’re reaching forward to grab your shot glass off the table, “Pass”. In your haste, you forget that you’re basically sitting sideways on the couch and that you don’t have any support under you as you move your upper body off the couch, eventually losing balance and falling forward. 

But before you can hit the coffee table with full force, an arm snakes around your waist, holding you up and bringing you back on the couch. Mingyu’s hand is holding onto your hip firmly, his fingers dipping into the fabric of your dress. 

There’s a sudden silence as your friends look from you to Mingyu, then back to you. You turn your head towards your ‘savior’ and directly make eye-contact, the close position and the strong scent of his cologne making you dizzy. 

Your face heats up, again, and you quickly grab your glass from the table, downing it and returning to your seat, hands clasped tightly together. Minghao eyes the now empty shot glass and chuckles, “Hiding something?” 

You glare at him, “It’s one question only, Minghao.” You forgot sometimes how infuriatingly teasing he can be. 

The next round of truth and dare goes more smoothly, nobody’s falling to the ground and there are no questions regarding anyone’s love life– if you don’t take into account Joshua asking Hoshi if his sister is still single. 

You don’t know how much time passes but you feel at ease on the black couch, leaning the side of your head against the backrest as you continue to enjoy the nice and friendly atmosphere. The guys have now changed to another game in a smaller group, while the others thought it was a good idea to start playing Mario Kart.

The music changes to a slower genre when the clock hits 2am and you decide that maybe it’s time to get another drink, the alcohol leaving your system a bit too soon for your liking.

With a sudden boost of energy, you swing your legs off Mingyu’s lap and stand up, kneeling down to stack the empty shot glasses and bring them with you to the kitchen. While you’re doing so, you feel a tug at the bottom of your dress. Mingyu pulls the hem of your dress down as you lean over and he makes sure no one can sneak a glance under your short  outfit. 

You turn to him with difficulty, the stacked shot glasses in your hands and your heels almost knocking over a plastic cup on the ground. Mingyu looks up at you, hair brushed back and arm resting on the back of the couch. He waits for you to speak and you smile softly. “Want a drink?” 

The corners of his mouth turn up and he gets up from the couch, taking the shot glasses from your hands. “I’ll go with you, if that’s ok.” 

You nod, and almost notice the faint blush on Mingyu’s cheek, “Of course.”

The music is still playing through the heavy speakers in each corner of the room, the lights of the TV casts a colorful glow over Mingyu’s living room and the chatter of every party goer doesn’t go unnoticed as you two make your way out of the room, stepping over the many empty cups on the wooden floor and into the less crowded hallway.

There aren’t really a lot of people in the hallway, but most of them are walking from one room to another, making it a hassle to peacefully cross the hallway without bumping into someone. It’s loud and the people occupying the little space aren’t exactly making it easy to enter the kitchen. 

Mingyu sees the mess before you do, taking all the shot glasses in one hand and grabbing your hand with the other. His back is creating a wall between you and the ‘danger’ in the hallway, and before you know it, Mingyu’s pushing forward, bumping into drunk party goers to make it through. He quickly creates a path, one that is safe to take as he pushes away the cups and beer bottles on the ground away and to the side, craning his arm so that you’re close to his back and following him.

When a very drunk– and probably high, guy stumbles out of a random room and directly into Mingyu’s shoulder, the shot glasses nearly fall to the floor, earning a panicked gasp from the owner. The guy doesn’t even bother to say sorry, looking past the both of you with a dead gaze as he tumbles forward, weak legs bringing him to the living room.

You whip your head around, smelling the awful stench coming from the guy and bring your hand up to cover your mouth. When he’s out of sight, you sneak one last glance to where he disappeared off to and tsks. “Asshole.” 

Mingyu’s laugh brings your eyes back to him, puzzled. He just squeezes your hand, sending you a smile over his shoulder. 

As you two finally arrive at your destination, the kitchen, your eyes widen in horror. It seems that there are even more people in the small kitchen than in the living room, which is already crowded enough. There’s not even enough space to navigate properly, people choosing to squeeze themselves between other people to get to the exit, spilling bits of their newly-filled drink. You hear Mingyu sigh– the cleanup the morning after is gonna be a tough one.

“Hey, why don’t you wait for me here? I’ll go in alone and come back with the drinks.” Mingyu turns to you, the shot glasses carefully leaning against his chest. 

Mingyu watches as you glance around the hallway and then around him, into the kitchen. You bite your lip, showing you’re becoming a bit anxious and he furrows his eyebrows. His smile quickly falters, showing concern right away. “You okay?” 

You look up at him as he turns fully towards you, almost blocking the doorway to the kitchen. You pass your hands over your dress, flattening out the non-existent wrinkles. “Yeah, it’s just starting to feel a bit too stuffy in here..”

Mingyu hums, raising his head to look at the end of the hallway, where the door to the balcony is situated. When he returns his gaze to you, he tilts his head cutely, licking his lips. “You wanna wait by the balcony? I told the guests not to go on there too much so that i won’t get a noise complaint from the neighbors. I think it’s safe if you go there.” 

With a smile, you nod at Mingyu, “yeah, that would be great. Thanks.” You place one of your hands on the wall next to the kitchen before leaning in so he hears you better over the music. “Don’t die in there by the way! We haven’t even gone to Iceland yet like we planned to years ago– it would be a waste for you to miss out on our extravagant bucket list, right?”

Mingyu’s laugh fills your ears, the sound making you smile from ear to ear. “C’mon, who do you take me for? Seok– Oh sorry.” Mingyu cuts himself off, lifting his two hands in the air with one still holding all the shot glasses. The girl, who just bumped into Mingyu, and who you recognize as one of your classmates from your major, pushes her hair behind her ear, blushing at your friend. 

Before she leaves, she mumbles a few words, but the music is way too loud for you to make out what it was, and then she’s gone. 

You don’t pay too much attention to it, as does Mingyu, who’s already back to look at you. It’s not the first and certainly not the last time someone is going to bump into one of you two at his party. 

“Sorry, what were you saying?” You turn back to Mingyu, crossing your arms and making the silver necklace you’re currently wearing shine even more under the flashy led lights. 

“Ah, sweetheart, you never listen do you?” Mingyu brings his free hand up to your jaw, tapping on the underside of your chin with his index finger. “I said, you need to stop biting your lips when you’re nervous. They’re too pretty for that.” 

You can’t speak, your entire vocabulary having left your body. His hand then turns to cup the underside of your jaw, his thump grazing over your bottom lip, ultimately smudging a bit of your lipgloss. Your mouth falls open a bit at the shock but he doesn’t stop. “A pretty color.. for pretty lips. Suiting.” His thumb sweeps one last time over your lip before he retreats into the kitchen. 

“Wait for me by the balcony, I'll grab our drinks for us.” 

— 

The temperature outside is completely different from the stuffy warmth inside the small apartment, the cold breeze making you shiver. You’re not a fan of the winter, or the cold in general, but when it’s almost 3am and your cheeks are red from being around Mingyu, the weather is probably the only thing keeping you sane. 

You think it’s captivating outside– how the moon shines and provides you enough light, how the silence from nature and the muffled sounds from the party mix together, how the wind blows your hair around and makes you tremble. You like it all.

There’s a calming atmosphere around it. You don’t feel as edgy as before and you mentally thank Mingyu for allowing you to use his sacred space for your own benefit. 

If you truly think about it, you had come to the party with no real intentions, but as the night goes by, you find yourself yearning for more. 

You find yourself yearning for Mingyu. You suppose it’s not entirely a bad thing– it’s also not the first time. 

You’re leaning over the balcony railing, looking down to the street at the foot of his apartment building. The concrete tiles are darker than usual, and wet– you were too absorbed by the party to even notice it was raining outside. The water droplets on the railing are cold against the skin of your forearms but you just clench your jaw through it. In a way, it wakes you up.

Your eyes are closed as you hum to the melodies of the pop song playing inside, chin propped up on your palm. You don’t know how long you rest your eyes, but you missed Mingyu’s voice when he opens the door to the balcony, stepping out of the apartment and smiling your way.

“Sleepy?” You just tilt your head, eyes still closed. You do turn towards him as you feel his presence behind you. 

You realize Mingyu always smiles when he’s looking at you and butterflies race in your stomach. 

Your hands are on the slippery metal railing as you lean back against it, the water droplets staining the lower back of your dress. It’s cold against your skin and you shiver, suddenly, and Mingyu notices, immediately stepping closer to you. 

“Just a bit out of energy.” 

Mingyu closes the balcony door behind him, swiftly setting down the two newly-filled plastic cups on a wobbly garden table in the corner and joining you. He stands in front of you, hands in his pockets and smirking down at you. You gulp, feeling like his prey. 

“Why’s that?” His tone doesn’t show an ounce of concern. Probably because he knows he has nothing to worry about. 

You’re not a jealous person, truly. You’re relatively confident when it comes to your relationships and friendships and have never deemed it necessary to throw a tantrum about your partner and who he talks to. To be fair, your last relationship was quite a while ago, but you still stand by your own beliefs. 

So, feeling a tiny bit of jealousy creep up when your classmate– the one who had previously bumped into Mingyu– walked up to him in the kitchen and laid her perfectly manicured hand on his bicep was an entirely new thing for you. 

You had even questioned yourself if you had the right to be jealous. You and Mingyu weren’t even together! 

The fact that you could watch what was happening right from your spot on the balcony didn’t help you either– your curious self being unable to stop watching while your mind was telling you to think about happy moments– aka moments where Mingyu showed he was definitely more interested in you than in the party or your classmate. 

So even though the little angel on your shoulder tried to avert your eyes from the crime scene, the manipulation play from the little devil on your other shoulder was a bit too convincing for your liking. In conclusion, you found yourself staring at the entire event. 

Frankly, nothing happened. On Mingyu’s part at least. The girl however, let’s say she was just trying to get to know him (a lie you’re definitely not telling yourself to keep calm).

Honestly, you weren’t paying much attention at first. It’s Mingyu’s birthday party, of course people will go up to him and congratulate him. But when the girl– you honestly don’t even remember her name– leaned towards him and put her hand on his chest, on the same spot where your hand had been moments prior, you knew this was more than a simple “happy birthday!”. 

Was it foul to only remember the way Mingyu’s smile seemed fake, the way he slowly backed away from her presence, and the way he rushed back to you? If it was, you couldn’t care less.

The two drinks he brought back were still sitting on the old table, untouched as if forgotten. 

Mingyu’s a bit too close for your liking. You can probably start counting his lashes– or the sparkles in his eyes. But when you open your mouth to joke, so that the tension could leave your body, Mingyu interrupts you and gets even closer. 

His tone is serious but you know he’s enjoying this, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “Were you jealous?” 

You hate how good Mingyu knows you, and you hate the effect he currently has on you, even though you would normally bathe in it. 

You know he knows, so there’s really no need to lie. Even more so when one of the reasons why he rushed back to you was because your eyes met when he was getting your drinks, and he saw you biting your lip. And you know now he doesn’t like it when you do that. 

You lean back against the railing even more, the metal digging into your skin as your heart starts to speed up. Your sudden shyness doesn’t waver his interest in the slightest and he only takes a step forward, backing you up against the railing. 

“What are you going to do if I say I was?” 

At that, Mingyu chuckles, looking to the side before hanging his head down. When he looks at you again, his hand finds its way to your cheek and he carefully brushes over the blush adorning your skin. 

The only thing you hear is a small ‘cute’ uttered under his breath before he retracts his hand and puts both of them on the railing behind you, trapping you between him and the end of the balcony.

Mingyu caught you, literally, and there’s not much you can do to stop him from getting what he wants. So you opt the easy way out, speaking the truth. “I was jealous, yeah. For the first time ever actually.” 

His smile grows even wider. “Do you love me that much, darling?” 

You don’t give him an answer this time, because you know he’s not really waiting for one. He knows and that’s enough for him, now. He also doesn’t really have the correct mindset to play this game with you at his party. The few glasses of alcohol you both took earlier are probably a bit at fault too. 

You clear your throat and he speaks up again, voice a bit rougher than earlier. “I guess Hoshi didn’t lie when he told me you liked me that much that you would have prepared two gifts for me.”

“You know Hoshi almost always lies.” You let go of the railing, hands finding their way to Mingyu’s waist, fiddling with his leather belt.  

You hear him inhale sharply, looking up to the sky for a short moment before focusing on you again, and definitely not on your hands. 

To fight back against the aggressive butterflies causing havoc in his stomach, Mingyu pulls you towards him, one hand on your lower back and the other one squeezing the fat at your hip. He’s in total control, and he’s confident about it too– you couldn’t even blame him for it. 

“Oh, almost always? So he’s not lying this time?” Mingyu leans down again, faces inches away from each other, to the point where you could just close the distance between the two of you with a small movement of the head. “Because I do think there’s some truth to it, sweetheart.” 

Your hair swings in the wind, and even though it’s cold, you want to stay with Mingyu as long as possible. His body feels warm under your fingertips and you almost gasp when he pushes you against the railing, his hand protecting your lower back from digging into the cold, wet metal. 

A short silence fills the air and you don’t know what to do except look away, your face growing hotter and hotter with every minute. Mingyu doesn’t talk either, too busy staring down at you. He makes a mental list in his head of all the things he loves about you, adoring you with his eyes while the music inside resonates from the glass door. 

You look away because you can feel him stare, and you wouldn’t know how to react if you were to make eye contact, since the effect Mingyu has on you is continuously making your knees buckle under you. 

“Were you interested?”, you suddenly ask, voice much quieter than before. It takes Mingyu a few seconds to realize what you’re talking about when you don’t meet his eyes, deciding to rather look at his shoes instead. 

He thought he had made it clear– clearer than anything else– but he didn’t expect you to suddenly shy away while in his arms and close to his chest, all because some girl tried to flirt with him. Deep down, you know he isn’t (if he was, he wouldn’t be with you right now, risking at least a three day-long fever) but you want him to say it. 

Mingyu just tilts his head a bit, a soft smile on his face as he tries to show you you have nothing to worry about. “Not in her, no.”

This time you smile back, a quiet ‘good’ falling off your lips as you place your hands on his forearms, palming his muscles through the sleeves. “Just wanted to make sure, y’know.”

He knows. 

Now it’s his turn to ask questions though.

“Why didn’t you say anything during Truth or Dare?” The question comes off strong, completely out of nowhere and causing your eyes to widen in shock. You weren’t expecting him to mention the game and how much you had embarrassed yourself.

You’re quick to answer though, in all honesty. “Because the others didn’t have to know.”

Mingyu smirks, liking the way your face heats up whenever he does or says something. He feels like your eyes can’t take him in wholly, going from one part to another frantically as they slide over his upper body. “And can I?” 

Your eyebrows furrow after his teasing tone makes an appearance again and he has to stop himself from letting out a chuckle. You’re almost pouting too, lower lip jutting out and unintentionally showing off your pretty lipgloss. You cross your arms, nails digging in your own forearms as the cold suddenly takes over you again. “I think it’s pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

A beat of silence, and then, “I want you to say it.”

He’s begging for it, pleading eyes boring into yours. His voice sounds somewhat more whiny as he starts to rub your sleeveless arms, making the goosebumps disappear. It’s not the first time you’ve seen Mingyu use his puppy eyes, he usually brings them out when someone teases him or when he needs something, and today, it’s the latter. 

Once again, you find yourself unable to refuse Mingyu anything. 

“I should have said your name when Minghao asked.”

Then he’s smiling again, happy you finally (kinda) admitted what you two should have confessed months earlier. He didn’t think you would give in so quickly, making him beam in excitement. His eyes are full of joy and his cheeks are rosy– you like to think it’s because of what you said, but the alcohol could still be playing a part in it.

You didn’t even feel tipsy anymore, no blurred vision or imperfect balance. It’s the first time you’ve sobered up so quickly, and you entirely thank Mingyu for it. 

You truly don’t know how much time passed since you stepped foot onto the balcony, the cold weather dragging every minute out but Mingyu’s presence speeding everything up. The music seemed to have calmed down a lot since the beginning of the night, and when you glance around Mingyu and into the apartment, you notice you can actually now make out the furniture and picture frames in the hallway. The kitchen and hallway are mainly empty but you can still hear chatter and laughter coming from the living room, concluding the rest of the guests are probably scattered all over the couches.

When your thoughts are all over the place, a slight pinch at your hip wakes you up, bringing you back to reality– on the balcony, and still in Mingyu’s arms. He chuckles, smoothing down your dress where he pinched you, rubbing over the now sore spot as you slowly wince. 

He looks behind him, into his apartment, where you were previously staring at and comes to the same conclusion as you. 

You’re all alone, with no one around. 

That thought alone makes him gulp. Fuck, was he always this nervous around girls?

It’s a silly question, because he knows he’s only ever that nervous when it comes to you.

He’s nervous, but he still craves for more so he focuses on you again. On your pretty eyes and how much they glisten in the moonlight. On your soft hair and how perfectly his hand fits in the nape of your neck, playing with a few strands. On your pretty lips and how he wishes he could just kiss away the lipgloss, so that you’d have to apply it again and he could then mess it up again.  

Mingyu needs you now, and if that means speaking without a filter, then so be it– a sacrifice he’s more than willing to give. 

“Are you going to kiss me now?”

You giggle and he feels dumb. But then you smile so deeply that he falls in love all over again. And he thinks you’re with no doubt the most beautiful soul he’s ever met. 

Your hands start to travel back up from his forearms to his biceps, before landing on his shoulders, where they squeeze his muscles, the tension in them all too familiar. You eye him, entirely this time, taking your time to appreciate every single part of him. 

You stare a bit too long at his neck and Mingyu blushes, unaware of how he’s supposed to react to this sudden onslaught of attention. Your hands move up to his jaw, holding his face close to yours as you stroke both his cheeks. 

You truly have him twisted around your finger. 

“Do you want me to?” It's an unnecessary question, but you want him to say it– just like Mingyu wanted you to before. Mingyu thinks he’s on the verge of collapsing, the only thing still keeping him upright are your hands on him and his on your waist and the railing. 

He’s desperate as he catches both of your wrists and kisses them each, before bringing your right arm up to wrap around his neck. He’s slow but determined and it sends shivers down your spine. Your nails scratch against the nape of his neck and he groans, clearly affected by it– by you. 

“Please, Yn.”

Your left arm soon joins the other one around his neck and Mingyu has to mentally restrain himself from rushing whatever good is supposed to happen. When both your arms are loosely hanging around his neck, your bodies are closer than ever, chests pressed against each other, warmth engulfing you entirely.  

Your sweet voice is the last thing he hears before his mind circuits. “Guess it’s time for your second gift then.”

And then you’re standing on your tip-toes, closing the small distance between you two and finally, finally stopping the seemingly endless torture. 

Your lips smash against his and it’s so aggressive because you can’t control yourself anymore. His lips feel soft and delicate against yours and you think you might end up breaking them– you wish you would. 

Mingyu holds a strong grip onto your waist, his arm circling around it to make sure you don’t shy away again. His other hand is on the side of your neck, holding onto your face as he pushes you against the balcony railing. 

One of the first things he notices is your raspberry flavored lip gloss– which he swears he knows he will never get enough of– and the slight hint of alcohol on your lips. It’s enamoring, enticing and everything he’s ever wanted. 

You run out of breath quickly but you don’t stop, you refuse to, physically unable to separate yourself from him. It’s Mingyu who backs away first, leaving you desperate for more, chasing after his lips. You gasp for air, head spinning at the utterly new but heavenly feeling while Mingyu attacks your neck, jaw, and everything that could make your eyes roll back.

Your hands are gripping onto his shirt, nails clawing at his back as Mingyu takes pleasure in pressing kisses onto your skin, going from your neck down to your cleavage and stopping when his chin grazes the fabric of your dress.

Mingyu groans when you pull at his hair, biting and sucking at your neck before planting a last kiss on your collarbone, quickly coming back up to your lips. He swears he can’t live anymore without kissing you. 

You drag Mingyu closer to you by the collar of his shirt, and then he’s kissing you again. His lips were determined and unrelenting, not letting go of you. He was addicted, goosebumps taking over his body as he bit down on your lower lip. You whined at the metal taste in your mouth, craning your neck for more. 

Mingyu chuckled against your lips, kissing them slowly before sliding his tongue against your lower lip to soothe the bite. He’s barely leaving you alive, completely breathless but still– always–  aching for more. 

His mouth was devouring you and you just couldn’t get enough– both of you, too absorbed in your own little bubble to even notice the weather was becoming gradually worse, rain falling out of the sky in a downpour. 

His tongue slid against your lips, again, before entering your mouth. Your hands holding onto Mingyu’s shoulders weren’t enough to get you anchored, legs trembling as he held onto your waist, muscles flexing. 

Mingyu’s warmth surrounded you completely, to the point where you felt like you couldn't breathe properly. Mingyu had taken full control over you, as your mind was a total mess, and you were just able to follow his movements and beg for more.

You gripped onto his bicep as you arched your back, the rain drenching both of you to the core– not that you really cared anyway, the way Mingyu’s tongue fought with yours was what truly mattered. 

You were ruined– completely and devastatingly ruined for everyone who wasn’t Mingyu.  

Then he eventually parted from you, pressing one sweet kiss to your mouth and you almost teared up when you felt him smile against your lips. 

Mingyu was beautiful, soaking wet hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks and the tip of his ears spark red and his lips swollen, red and plump from kissing you. His chest is heaving as you stare up at him, not caring in the slightest about the rain messing up your makeup and outfit. 

His hands slowly lift up to your face, holding it so softly your heart skips a beat. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone and he leans towards you, nuzzling your nose with his. 

Mingyu’s eyes literally shine and your lips part in awe.

You stare too much but Mingyu doesn’t force you to look away, because he’s sure he’s staring just as much. 

It’s only when you lean back into his arms that Mingyu notices the lingering taste of raspberry on his lips. He grins and he hopes that your lip color stained his lips, so that when you go back inside, your friends know that you’re his now– not that they weren’t aware before. 

And when you lift your head to look at him, arms circled around his waist, your smudged lipgloss is enough to make him want more. 

“Happy fucking birthday to me.”

general taglist: @0x1lovebot @fairybinie @blaqpinksthetic @odetoyeonjun @pockyandme @soobin-chois @lolalee24 @soobisms @junityy @kaimal @laylasbunbunny @jaeyunverse @enhacolor @honglynights @starry-mins @bibinnieposts @yoonzin0 @raevyng @hoeforcheol @pearlygraysky @4xiaojun @xomingyu

please do not copy, repost or steal any of my work. all content belongs to @odxrilove

[raeinyourdreams]

'call it what you want.' | l.h x reader

pairings: logan howlett x sway!reader

tags: fluff, no established relationship but.. there's something there, mutant!reader (they call her sway due to her mutation.. i love her i wanna talk ab her someone PLEASE ASK AB HER), AFAB reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, no specific petnames for reader (just bub and her hero name.. gets called kid like twice), no use of y/n, written with x1/x2 logan in mind... sigh... save me x2 logan.. anyway, he gives reader his dog tags before a mission in case he.. you know.. so maybe angst? but only til the very end.

wc: 2k!!

a/n: OKAY SO BOOM! this is my first actual work that's not a drabble and i'm so anxious to post AAHHH, i got the inspo from a post i saw a while ago while fried as fuck from someone requesting a fic ab logan giving reader his dog tags, pref fluffy and angsty so i hope i did ur vision justice OP!! tysm for inspo, my reqs are always open 🫶🏻 also i know this is a very burnt card but if something in the wording is off lmk PLEASEE english isn't my first language 😭 anyway enough yapping plz enjoy!! any type of interaction is appreciated

'just know these are yours now.'

you've never seen him without his dog tags, he never took them off, not ever since the first time he came into the mansion. you'd been there the first time, you were a teacher in the school, and you'd seen him occasionally roam the halls and stay by the door, listening in on your class, quietly. but very rarely interacted otherwise, just a simple nod or a 'good morning' that he'd return out of good manners, but he'd mostly keep to himself.

you're a teacher. you're the fun teacher. at least that's what your coworkers seemed to agree upon, seeing how your students appeared to leave your classroom more cheerful than they entered. you'd be lying if you said you didn't use your mutation as an advantage in this situation, being able to read your students' moods every day, how they were feeling and why came insanely handy, especially when it came to giving each student the type of care they needed. which is why you were also a student counselor.

on the days you didn't teach, you'd put that psych degree to work and counsel. in your classroom filled with drawings and fairy lights and stained glass that looked straight from a fairytale, and a door you'd lock for privacy as a student came to confide in you.

obviously despite your title, it wasn't only students who'd come to your office to let a feeling go, teachers too, needed a space to blow off some steam, cry a little sometimes, because they knew you'd soothe them in the end, touch your hand feel the pain dissipate, make it seem as if they'd never felt that way.

up until now, only teachers and students seemed to come to you for help. teachers. and students.

so it did surprise you when the wolverine started showing up in your office after coming back.

"must be tiring. to handle others' emotions like your own all day." he'd say, sitting down on a chair, to which you'd playfully roll your eyes and shake your head. "i don't treat them as my own, i just do what i have to do so they feel better." you'd reply, walking towards the door to lock it out of policy. figured that he was here for counseling as well.

"you treat everyone with so much care it seems like it." he said, which made you stop in your tracks, turning heel to face him, your hair cascading on your shoulders and moving ever so softly as you spun. before you could speak, stunned, he asked again.

"don't you get tired? i mean mentally. it must take a toll on you to be around so many emotions all the time." the way he seemed to read you stunned you, he seemed like a very gruff, cold person from the brief interactions you'd had with him before. truth be told, this was the closest you'd been to logan since he came back to the mansion. it's what other people thought of him, anyway.

but you weren't other people, you were different.

the feeling in your body when you perceive others emotions is strange. you could never put it into words. your mutation was mostly contact based, a small brush of the hand was enough to let you know that person's feelings, the reason behind them, what they needed to feel better and it made it easier to help everyone. you could, however, see and feel the emotions, sometimes even smell them if they were too strong, no need for contact necessary.

with logan, you almost didn't need to be in the same room as him to feel the amount of physical, mental, emotional strain he was constantly under, his superhuman body subconsciously tuning it out, making him oblivious to it. once, after a very dangerous mission, he isolated himself in his room for days, his expression cold and unfazed, but every time you'd walk past an area he was in, the emotions hit you like a truck. so strong you even cried over pain that wasn't yours, a life you hadn't lived.

you looked at him sympathetically, taking a deep breath to concentrate less on the seemingly invisible fog around you two as you sat on the chair, your expression calm and collected. "i'm okay, i promise. thank you, logan."

"like hell you are." "neither are you."

he stays quiet at your retaliation, a weak smile forming on his lips, letting you understand that you were right, not that you needed confirmation.

sometimes, when emotions overpower you, you feel compelled to speak, give words of reassurance, even if you didn't quite know if they'd help or not. "logan, you should let people into your heart, stop living in fear.." you blurted out, unsure of why you were telling him this, but you'd learned to not question it and just speak, because it helped to just hear the words sometimes. it certainly did get you a reaction from logan, as the overbearing feelings you were perceiving faded.. briefly, before they slowly crept back into vision.

it was the faintest of reactions, but a reaction at least.

he nodded, taking in the words silently, as if he were contemplating. you remained stoic, analyzing his demeanor out of pure habit. "did.. you come here for counseling?" you asked, suddenly aware that you were still working, and you weren't even sure if he was here for another reason, or if he did need your help. instead, he shook his head, looking at you as if he were conducting an analysis of his own.

"nah, just came to see you.. sway."

a knock on the door interrupted the brewing tension, a gloomy, childlike presence behind the door, to which you looked at logan apologetically. "i'm sorry logan, i have a student to attend.. but think about what i said." you spoke softly, your warm voice reverberating in his ears like a hug.. something he longed for but couldn't bring himself to ask.

you started seeing him around the classroom more, or rather, he started seeking you out more. in between breaks, before his training, during counseling. it got to a point where your children started greeting him hello and goodbye if he was in the classroom, interacting with him, playing with his hair, always styled like kitty ears. the way he just smiled and let them made something in you bloom, a feeling you couldn't recognize in yourself, but it was pink and warm and fuzzy all over. you couldn't help but wonder if he felt about you this way, too.

slowly, you noticed how, little by little, the gloomy cloud surrounding him would go away when he entered the classroom, how it would be replaced with a pink haze when he looked into your eyes, or made you laugh.. it would quickly fade away, but you'd notice, and noticed how much it resembled that feeling inside you: pink and warm and fuzzy all over.

as time went by, you got used to seeing him around, swinging by your classroom as if it was his haven, a small break from the world he knew, because you were in it. you'd be lying if you said he didn't make you day too, the gloomy atmosphere that once came along with him every time he entered your classroom slowly changing into a lilac haze.

one day, he showed up as the kids were leaving for the day, no colored cloud, but something seemed off. you invited him to sit down as he locked the door after getting in, his expression serene. before you could even speak his hands were on you, pulling you close to him in a hug, and you swore you could feel him shaking slightly. the realization hits you like a bucket of cold water and you just hold him tighter to you, since it feels like the only correct thing to do.

"you're scared."

"no one gets to see me like this, so feel special." said he, almost as if he was confiding a secret in you, which he was.

"oh, trust me, i feel quite special." you replied jokingly, which caused him to let out a chuckle, though it was dull and almost no feeling was tied to it.

you two let go and you asked him what was wrong, and he opened up like it was routine.

"i leave tomorrow. there's a mission out of state and they're asking me to go.. might be off the grid after that for a while." he explained, his voice remained calm but his eyes seemed to reveal to you more of how he was actually feeling.

"i dunno.. thought someone should've known in case.. things go south." your expression changed at that, and logan noticed. "ah, c'mon bub, change that frown, it's just reality. sure, i might be a piece of work to kill but it doesn't mean i can't die."

the silence that fell upon the classroom as you two finished speaking made the words fall with more weight into your heart, it did little to nothing to comfort you as you came to terms with what he said. it shouldn't have been hard - he was just stating a fact -, but it didn't mean that it didn't cut deep for you. you opened your mouth to speak, unsure of what you were even going to say, but he quickly cut you off.

"logan-" "listen, bub, you told me to start letting people into my heart.. i'm letting you in."

slowly, his hands went to unclasp the chain that always dangled on his neck, dog tags adorning his neck with his names, his identities. you looked in awe as he held them out to you. "gimme your hand, kid." and surprisingly, you did as you were told, holding your hand out as he placed the piece on your hand, feeling the cold metal clink softly as it fell and heat up under the temperature of your palm. you looked up at him, unsure of what it meant, of what this changed between you two, but it felt undeniable, even if unspoken.

“now, these.. they’re very special, bub. a reminder of everything that happened that led to here.. and it’s leading me to you right now.” he explained. “feels right for you to have them, i guess.. keep them safe, kid.”

the silence that fell between you two again was more comfortable, filled with a newfound tension that left much to question, but it didn’t feel right to interrupt with all that noise yet. the only sound filling the room was the breathing and a faint humming of the white noise machine you kept in your room, next by the door. you opened up your mouth again, your mind utterly blank and filled with thoughts and questions at the same time, unsure of which one was going to breach through your mind to materialize out in the cold, tense air.

“.. why me? trust me, i’m flattered, but i’m no one special, logan..” you questioned, and it made him frown.

“you are special. you're special to me.” your eyes widened at the confession and you watched as a soft smile settled on his face, one that made your heart flutter with the sheer tenderness he held in his gaze. “call it what you want.. just know these are yours now.” he said it so calmly, you wouldn't have tought he was handing you his heart, placing it in soft, tender hands and pleading you to not break it, not change it, and instead embrace it and accept it as it came, rough around the edges.

with that, he stood up from the chair, took your hand to squeeze it briefly, and walked out of the room, not before looking back at you one last time, the heaviness that he carried as he entered the room seemingly gone, all that you could perceive was a haze, all too familiar, one that left as quick as it came as his eyes met yours.

pink, warm, and fuzzy all over.

additional author's note: BOOM SHAKALAKA I POSTED FINALLY!! i think it's a little rushed BUT!! it's cause i have a (smutty) part 2 planned for this HEHEJEHE i don't like writing (or reading) series bcs i get sad when they end but i just might.... hehehe... anyway pls lmk what u think!! or i kill off logan 🥰🥰 your choice 🥰🥰

taglist: @allen-444

[the-queen-of-hell-666]

Summer Days

Kinktober 2024 - Day 20

Pairing: Young!Logan Howlett (X1) x Professor!Mutant!Fem!Reader

Kink: Edging

Word Count: 1700+

Summary: Logan hasn't made the first move, so you decide to.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal sex, voyeurism, marking, creampie, multiple positions, slight d/s dynamics, edging), fluff, saps in love, soft!Logan, confindent!reader

a/n: This one got away from me because I didn't have a plan going into it, but I hope it all makes sense! I hope you enjoy it!

Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Logan couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, you invaded his every sense, everywhere he went in the mansion, he saw you, smelled you, heard your voice. You were driving him crazy. You had helped Ororo and Scott rescue him and Rogue from Sabertooth and since then, he couldn’t keep his eyes to himself. You were a professor, a very put together woman. Your hair always pulled up in a tidy hair do, always wearing professional clothes, the first time he saw you half asleep and in your pajamas was when Charles had their Sunday breakfasts. It was your only day to sleep in and you didn’t feel like getting all put together. He knew he was in love when he watched you eat your breakfast with Rogue and Ororo, a big smile on your face as you laughed through a bite of toast at something Rogue had said, and he was screwed.

In the middle of summer, the New York heat was getting to everyone. Logan was in his white beater and ripped jeans, small beads of sweat rolling down his neck as he took a walk around the campus. He stumbled upon you, doing yoga by the pond, you were in skin tight biker shorts, a white flowy tank top, and he could see your rainbow sports bra through the light fabric. Your hair was tied up in a tight bun as you stretched on your X-Men branded yoga mat. You had a radio next to you, playing classic rock as you moved into your next position. Logan thought he had died and this was his heaven, you looked like a goddess in the midday sun, sweat dripping down your neck and in between your breasts. 

You looked up and locked eyes with Logan and you gave him a bright smile, brighter than the sun itself in his opinion. “Hey, Logan! How are you?” You asked as you sat in a butterfly position, stretching out your hips.

Logan thanked that the heat had his cheeks already flushing so you couldn’t see him blush, “M’good. Just taking a walk.” He grunted and gave you a small grin. 

You smiled wider and stood up and dusted off your thighs, “Wanna join me? I can go grab another mat?” You offered with a gesture of your hand to the cart over by the basketball court. 

He shook his head, “Nah. If I try any of those poses, I’ll hurt myself.” He chuckled and you giggled softly at the thought and nodded. 

“Okay, well I’ll be out here again tomorrow if you wanna give it a try. Right now, a shower and a glass of wine are calling my name.” You smiled and picked up your mat, bending down in front of Logan and he had to keep himself from drooling. You rolled up the mat and patted Logan on the shoulder, “I’ll see you later, Lo.” You said before you walked away, setting the mat on the dirty cart for cleaning before making your way to your room. 

Your room was in the same hall as Logan’s and you two shared a bathroom. You weren’t stupid, you saw the looks Logan gave you, how his nostrils flared when you walked past, how his fists clenched if you did anything relatively sexual, you liked the game but you were getting tired of it. You stepped into the bathroom and noticed that the door to his room was slightly ajar and you got a naughty thought and decided to leave it open. You turned on the water and let it heat up while you undressed and stepped into the water. You let out a soft sigh as the water cascaded down your body, making your muscles loosen and your body relax. 

A few minutes into your shower, you heard Logan’s room door open then shut as he walked into his bathroom. You smirked softly as you heard him walk to the bathroom door but stop before the threshold, he saw you. You heard his soft gasp and gulp as he peered into the bathroom. You bit your lip and grabbed your body wash and your loofah. You squirted a bit onto the sponge and started lathering your bare body, making sure to linger on your ass and breasts, knowing that Logan was watching. You giggled to yourself before washing the soap off and you turned off the water once free of suds. You heard Logan’s footsteps retreat and you stepped out of the shower and grabbed your towel from the hook and you dried yourself off. You wrapped it around your body and walked to the door that led to Logan’s room and you knocked softly on the door. You heard a muffled reply and you nudged the door open to see Logan smoking a cigar by the open window and you smirked and bit your lip. 

“You know Charles doesn’t like you smoking in the house.” You fake pouted and you sauntered over to him, making gulp audibly. You took the cigar from him and took a puff of your own and let the smoke willow out of your mouth. “But then again, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” You shrugged before you slammed your lips against his. 

His eyes went wide before he leaned into it and his large hands tangled in your hair and tugged you closer. You moaned softly at the slight pain of his fingers tugging on your hair. You slid into his lap, letting the towel fall away but then you were very aware of being next to an open window. You pulled away and he whined as you did so, “Lo, take me away from the window. I only want you to see me, not the whole courtyard.” You huffed softly and he chuckled softly and nodded before scooping you up without hesitation. 

He carried you to the bed and laid you out on the sheets, your bare body completely revealed to his hungry eyes. “Fuck, you are beautiful. So pretty.” He groaned as his large hands grazed over your mounds and down your body to your core and down your thighs. 

“Mm, I knew you were watching me.” You purred as he spread your thighs for him, revealing your dripping cunt to his eyes. He looked up at your face with hesitation written across his face, “Don’t, mm, worry. I enjoyed it.” You smirked and reached down to take his hands into your palms and pulled one up to your breasts and the other to your cunt. “Made me feel all sorts of turned on.” 

He groaned as his finger stroked through your wet folds, “So warm and wet. All for me, bub?” He asked with a smirk teasing his lips. 

You let out a moan and nodded as his middle finger circled your bud softly. “Of course. All for you.” You hummed and you grinded your hips down against his hand. His other hand groped and squeezed your breast in his large palm. You let yourself enjoy his teasing and toying of your body before you slid your legs around his waist and flipped you two over. Logan let out a small huff of surprise and you giggled and leaned up to kiss him passionately. His hands gripped your hips tight and pulled you down to grind against his jean clad bulge. 

“You’re making a mess, bub.” He groaned as the spot on his jeans grew dark with your arousal. You bit your lip before reaching down and stripping off his shirt before moving down to his jeans, as your lips attached themselves to his neck. He groaned as you bit and sucked on his salty skin, and he helped you take off his jeans and boxers in one movement. You bit your lip as his hard and leaking cock sprung up to hit his taut stomach. 

“You’re so fucking big, Lo.” You purred as you wrapped your hand around his shaft, your small hand making his cock look huge, you couldn’t even wrap your hand all the way around the base. 

He gave you a cocky smirk, “You’ll give me a complex.” He remarked and you rolled your eyes. 

“You already have one.” You giggled and you kissed him passionately and his hands moved down to lift you up enough so you could sink down on his cock. You let out a shaky moan as he filled you up completely, your clit nuzzled against the coarse hair at the base of his cock. You panted and moaned against his lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “F-fuck, ah, Logan. You’re so big. M’so full.” You whined and he leaned down to kiss and suck on your sensitive neck, making pleasure course through your veins. You felt your cunt pulse and clench as your hips started moving up and down on his cock, your thighs shaking with each movement. Logan gripped your hips and helped you up and down on his cock slowly, him grunting as your walls squeezed his sensitive shaft. 

You could feel the knot already tightening with each thrust and Logan knew it, “Not yet, bub. Wanna cum with you, but not ready for this to end.” He smirked as he rolled you two over with you on your side and him behind you and he hiked your leg over his arm as he slipped his cock back into you. You moaned at the new position which made his cock feel bigger than it was. 

“M’close, Lo. You feel so good.” You whimpered as you felt yourself being pushed to the edge but then Logan slowed down, taking you back from the edge. You whined and you turned your head to nuzzle into his neck and bite and suck on his tan skin, “Please, please.” You moaned with each thrust. 

He grunted and groaned as his eyes squeezed shut, trying to keep himself from cumming, not wanting this to end too quickly and his hands squeezed any expanse of skin he could get to. “Just a little longer. Want to savor this. Don’t want this to end.” He grunted and small tears welled in your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through you. You didn’t want this to end anyway, you wanted Logan forever.

[slytherinshua]

THE NIGHT WHERE IT ENDED

genre. vampire au. angst. little bit of fluff. warnings. guns. vampires fighting against humans. a lot of blood. major character death. kinda half proofread half not. pairing. vampire!hanbin x vampire!reader. ft. vampire!zhanghao, vampire!seungwoo (x1/victon/solo), and vampire!sejeong (ioi/gugudan/solo). wc. 3.7k. request. @blue-jisungs begged me to write pt 2 but i think she's regretting that decision now skjdksd oops. a/n. i'm sorry for this fic okay like srsly i'm sorry 😭😭😭 divider by @/sweetparty.

read part 1 here read part 3 here

“Why are you restless, my love?” Hanbin asked softly as he wrapped his left arm around your shoulder, the fabric of his robe draping over your skin and shielding you from the cool night breeze.

“I think we are making a mistake, Hanbin.” You said quietly. Hanbin could feel the weight of your words despite how vague they were. He tilted his head and focused his crimson eyes on you, attempting to read your thoughts. 

The skill was challenging to use on other vampires. You were neither human nor a recently turned vampire, so your thoughts were safely hidden from most. The connection of your souls made it easier for Hanbin to get in, though. And when he did, gathering a few more pieces of information about what was bothering you, he knew you were probably right. 

“You mean about humans?” His hand slowly rubbed over your arm, a simple tranquillity spell dispersing from his fingertips. This, unlike the mind reading, was something he could do without any effort. He often used it on you when he could, to help calm you in any way. You always noticed when he did, and he knew you appreciated the gesture by the look in your eyes. The same happened now, as he felt your body slowly relax in his hold. 

“They are coming into the age of technology— progressing at a rate faster than we’ve ever seen before. The elders have grown foolish. They have not seen the outside world for themselves in hundreds of years. They still think humans are weak and easy.” You explained the things that Hanbin knew very well. As merely a short thousand years old or a little more, both of you were at the front of missions and leading forces. Being young and able-bodied yet skilled enough to face almost anything, there was little left to improve on.

“Their guns have grown more powerful. So have their bombs. They are no longer scared, weak, foolishly mortal beings who run around with pitchforks and torches. They have weapons causing damage that not even the best of spells could hope to remedy. I’ve explained this all to the elders, but they won’t listen to my suggestions. They don’t believe me.” You said in defeat, faced with an impossible task.

Never before had you seen your fellow vampires die so quickly. Bullets seared through their bodies faster than the wind, and it only took a couple to knock a vampire unconscious. It was only a matter of time before the wounds killed them. The simple truth you were faced with was almost impossible to accept.

Humans were growing stronger than vampires. Despite their weak bodies, their propensity for fear, their stupidity, or their short life-spans. The advantage they had over vampires was constant adaptation and invention. You could barely name a change in the castle in 800 years, but the changes to the human world were endless. And each one was more impressive than the last.

Diseases that had once killed millions were being researched and prevented, a problem of the past for humans. Modern technology in the form of telephones, space travel, and computers aided in all facets of human life. It was simply astonishing how fast the world could change. Vampires simply had no way to keep up, you realized.

“It will take time for them to come around, but they will. When they see for themselves how many we’ve lost— how we are no longer overpowering humans tenfold. They will surely change their course of action then.” Hanbin words soothed your worried heart. You felt foolish for wanting to believe every word that came out of his mouth, but it felt like second nature. You just hoped he was right.

“This is it?” You asked, glancing at Hanbin from across the table to catch his nod. On the marble surface lay a large rifle, one that had single-handedly taken out 3 of your vampires that evening with just 5 bullets. 

It had been several months since your worry had started, and you realized now that you had vastly underestimated how quickly humans improved. What once took 10 or more bullets to fatally injure a vampire now decreased to just 1 or 2. If this is what humans could do in just a few months, what more developments could they introduce in 10 years?

“They’ve developed this model for the past couple of months to specifically target our weaknesses. They must have studied one of our men to know that silver bullets would be more deadly than anything else. When aimed at our hearts, it’s very easy to kill a vampire with just 1 shot.” Hanbin said wearily, his expression growing dim like yours.

“For the first time ever, they’re killing us faster than we’re turning them.” You muttered, trying to not let the thought terrify you. It could easily mean the extinction of vampires within a short hundred years.

You turned to the elders who you were consulting about the issue, studying their pale faces. Seungwoo looked stone faced, which you expected. He was one of the few elders who knew about the situation, as he often went out into the human world, disguising himself as one of them. As the most advanced healer among the clan, he had tended to many of the injured fighters in the past months. He was familiar with the damage the weapon could do, and the number of vampires that had been lost to its deadly silver bullets. 

Zhang Hao looked surprised, and maybe even a little bit scared at the news. His eyes were wide, but he kept his face as stoic as possible. He was one of the most powerful vampires concerning spells. His magic was strong and his knowledge was vast. He knew ancient rituals and was able to create entirely new incantations by studying old texts. You respected his opinion on the issue, and was sure he would be able to advise how to train the younger vampires with protective charms.

You skipped past the dozen or so council member elders, and turned finally to Sejeong, watching her face twist in anger. She never failed to lead the vampires expertly, but her temper was a cause of concern for you. She held grudges against the humans more personally than Hao or Seungwoo. She had often been at the front of the battlefield hundreds of years ago, and she had seen no shortage of vampire bloodshed. Under her reign there had been centuries of peace, as she wisely chose to not engage with the humans unless necessary. Now that they were actively seeking out her citizens, though, she wasn’t willing to let it slide. 

You could predict many possible outcomes from this. Sejeong’s ruling might result in peace once again, or in a war that no one would be able to survive. It was your duty to trust and follow her every command, operating on her word to the best of your abilities, but you had never experienced such high risks. You were worried you might not make it out of this battle, or worse, that Hanbin would face death with you.

The 3 elders you had watched expectantly, having been the very 3 to conjoin yours and Hanbin’s souls, were well aware of the risks. Vampire souls were not naturally supposed to meld together, and although you and Hanbin were perfectly matched, your joining still faced consequences. If one of you died, it was likely that the other would not be able to survive alone. Whenever you called to one another through your tattoos, you had to bear the burning sensation that came from using such power. If one of you was in pain, the other experienced it too. There was never a burden that could be held by just one person. You and Hanbin were a pair, and you simply could not be separated. 

It was back in Hanbin’s tower after the meeting that you voiced your concern. After Sejeong decided on facing the problem head on, just as you expected, and it was only a matter of days before you would be sent out to attack.

“I think it would be best if we stuck together at all times. If you get out of my sight, I won’t know if you’re safe.” You said quietly, biting the inside of your cheek in worry. Hanbin walked across the room, joining you on the couch, lacing his hand with yours. 

“I won’t go anywhere without you, even if it means disobeying the elders' orders. We don’t know what could happen to our souls if one of us gets hurt. We’re meant to be together, not apart.” You continued, meeting Hanbin’s crimson eyes with yours. 

He nodded, “Whatever you wish.” He squeezed your hand reassuringly.

“I should close the curtain. The sun is coming up.” You kissed his cheek and stood up to do so. Hanbin’s eyes watched you as you walked across the room and drew the blinds. He leaned back against the sofa, gaze still fixed on you as you shuffled through the bookcase on the wall, picking up a history book about ancient vampire civilizations. He could see the anxiety in your eyes, and he felt a twist in his stomach, mirroring yours.

“Calm down, Y/n. We’ll be alright, no matter what happens.” Hanbin said. He motioned for you to put down the book and come back to his arms. “Stop worrying about me. I’ll be fine. I won’t get hurt. I promise I won’t.” He whispered to you, a comforting smile on his face.

You wondered how he could always be so sure and confident. You were constantly riddled with worries, but, like always, Hanbin assured you, easing your anxiety with his words or his spells. You could feel his magic work on you as he wrapped his arms around you, and you instantly felt at peace.

You stayed in his arms until the sun had fully risen, savouring the quiet moments while you still could. There would be no spare moment to relax once the full moon came. You couldn’t ask for him to keep the calming spell going all day, but for as long as you were in his arms, you allowed yourself to let him take your mind off of everything.

You even managed to fall asleep from how comfortable you were cuddled in his hold. When you woke up and looked up at him, his eyes had fallen shut as well, but you could tell he was only dozing. Beads of sweat had gathered on his forehead from how long he had been casting the spell. Even though it was a fairly easy one that he had mastered centuries ago, keeping it going for hours at a time still took an extreme amount of energy.

You kissed his cheek, watching as his eyes opened slowly. He smiled and wiped his dewy skin, sitting up slowly. You felt the spell wear off as Hanbin relaxed his shoulders, and the thoughts flooding your head came back immediately. A sigh left your lips. You couldn’t ask him to keep it going for any longer. You felt guilty for how long he had been doing it already, knowing just how exhausting it must have been.

“You didn’t have to do that for so long.” You whispered, standing up from his lap and circling around to the back of the couch. You unclasped the outer cloth of his long robe, leaving just the tunic and pants he was wearing. Your hands fell to his neck and shoulders, slowly starting to massage the muscles, working out the knots he had developed. 

His eyes fell shut, a pained whine escaping his lips from the sensation. He was always so focused on taking care of you, he rarely noticed when his own body was suffering. He felt relieved as the pain slowly subsided with the help of one of your healing spells, the touch of your fingers over his bare skin becoming softer.

Your fingers lingered on the side of his neck when you were done, circling the pads of your pointer and middle finger over his pulsepoint, feeling the faint beating of his heart. It was slower in pace than humans, but it was still felt from the touch of your finger. 

The life of vampires relied on magical powers (and a constant supply of blood) over bodily function. In his life as a human, Hanbin’s heart had been the most vital organ to his survival. But now, keeping his body healthy so his powers flowed freely was of equal importance. The two were still intertwined, a constant balance was the key to being a powerful vampire. Poor bodily function translated to weakened power. The fact that you could still hear Hanbin’s heart clearly was a testament to his abilities. It would take an extraordinary force to weaken him to the point of death, and that thought comforted you.

You had seen many conflicts in your lifetime, mostly human wars of which vampires were no part of. But it was an entirely different feeling standing at the front of the battleline in the dead of night, preparing your strongest spells, knowing you were vastly outnumbered by the enemy’s army. 

Hanbin was by your side, his finger still barely grazing your hand, trying to get as much strength from you before the fight started. Fear filled both of your body’s, but a strong determination overpowered it. The risk was immense, but you needed to win. You would come out of it alive, no matter what.

The explosions were deafening, ringing in your ears at ten times the intensity that they sounded to humans. It was dizzying, and you could barely keep track of the spells you were casting. They seemed to be working well enough to defend yourself, as any man who charged at you soon found himself in a pool of his own blood on the grass. 

You weren’t sure how long you had been fighting, or how many more men you could hold off. It felt like they just kept coming. You had never used this much power all at once, but you couldn’t stop even for a second. It couldn’t go on forever, right?

There was no big explosion, nor were any human soldiers in range to hurt you. You weren’t in the line of gunshots. There was no possible way a grenade could have reached you without you noticing it. So why did you suddenly feel such excruciating pain?

Hanbin. Where was Hanbin?

The smoke on the battlefield hindered the humans from seeing, but you were effortlessly able to clear a path. It was easy to find Hanbin— you always came back to him without even thinking. You knew where he was immediately, and your legs carried you to him in an instant. 

His eyes looked scared as they met yours. He was on his knees, surrounded by the men he had taken out, their blood soaked on his skin and clothes. The crimson of his eyes had faded, suggesting his weakening state. You couldn’t tell what blood was his, but you could tell that he was losing it fast. 

“Hanbin— get up. Get up, please.” You grabbed his arm in a panic, pulling him up to his feet and supporting his body on yours as you quickly found a sheltered spot to let him sit.

“What happened? Why are you hurt— you said you wouldn’t get hurt.” You cried, holding a bloody palm to your tattoos, trying to summon a healing spell. Hanbin was barely breathing; struggling to stay conscious for you.

After hours of fighting, your power had grown weak. The pain you experienced, mirroring the injuries on Hanbin’s body, also prevented you from conjuring the spell. You gave up trying to get it from the source, realising that it wouldn’t work in your current state. Instead, you placed your hands on Hanbin’s chest, your fingers touching the ink on his collarbone. You closed your eyes tightly, mustering as much strength as you could to reach his body. His tattoos flickered, wanting to shine brightly from your touch, but unable to summon enough power for it.

He gasped, air flooding his lungs again. His eyes watered from the pain, and he instinctively tried to push your hands away, although he knew that they were what was still keeping him alive. The blood loss was driving his body and mind crazy; the need, the thirst for it, overwhelming. You realized what was going on from just his face, the unmistakable sign of a bloodthirsty vampire flashing in his faint eyes. 

“Take mine.” You said quickly, pushing your garment to the side, exposing your neck to him. 

“N-no, I can’t.” He whispered, terrified at the thought of hurting you.

“Please. You’ll die.” You begged, your voice laced with desperation. Strangely, you had no fear. You didn’t care about how much it would hurt, or if it would drive you bloodthirsty as well. You just needed him to survive.

Due to his weak state, you were able to overpower him. You forced his mouth open in desperation, revealing the sharp fangs on his top row of teeth. He cried, having no strength to stop you. He would rather die than risk causing you harm. 

Hanbin submitted to your wishes, knowing that if he didn’t comply with biting you, you would find a different, more dangerous way to give him your blood. He sunk his fangs weakly into your neck and forced himself to suck. The taste of your blood trickling down his throat instantly curbed the insatiable need for it. You cried out in pain, feeling your strength wither as your blood left you. The sound broke Hanbin’s heart, icy tears falling from his eyes.

The taste of your blood was sweet and warm, but Hanbin refused to enjoy a single drop of it. As soon as he felt a fraction of his strength coming back, he used it to push you off of him. 

You looked back at him and the entire world seemed to disappear. The fight was still ongoing behind you, but no shouts or explosions reached your ears. His eyes slowly gained back their colour, flickering to yours and softening. With tear stains on his cheeks and blood splattered across his face and neck, he reached for you gently, hesitantly. Almost too hesitant to be quite like him. 

“I hurt you.” He said in anguish, his eyes unable to leave the wound on your neck. “Why did you let me hurt you?” He searched your face for an answer, and it stared right back at him. Losing him would be more painful to you than any wound, even if he was the one who gave it to you. He could hurt you, wound you, or even kill you, and you would still give yourself up to him without needing to think.

Vampires always felt cold, but Hanbin’s touch felt exceptionally gelid when it reached your cheek. He looked gaunt, his exhaustion evident even after he had gotten some strength back. You needed to get him to safety, somewhere where skilled healers could tend to him. His eyes looked scared. Not scared of the battle, but scared of himself and what he had done to you.

“You could never hurt me. Just please stay alive.” You whispered, holding his bloodied hand. His eyes still naturally drew back to your neck, shaky breaths leaving him as he processed your words and nodded weakly. 

He bent to kiss you with the energy he had, the action portraying a million thoughts and feelings. You felt him crumble in your arms, his body giving out on him as his lips touched yours. You held him steady, supporting his neck so his head didn’t fall. His eyelids drooped, and with a trembling breath you realized the carmine colour of his eyes was fading again.

“No, no— Hanbin, please.” Your hands fumbled, trying to think of what to do. You simply had no power left to give to him. Your hand slipped to his waist, trying to readjust him into a better position. That’s when you felt the warm liquid on your hand. 

The wound must have been from a bullet, you deduced quickly. No other weapon that humans possessed could have caused him to bleed so much. The bullet had pierced him in merely half a second, lodging itself in his side. It was a wonder how such a small piece of silver could do so much damage to a vampire as powerful as Hanbin. He was dazed, the feeling of you pressing on the wound to try to stop the bleeding the only sensation he could discern.

Shouts grew louder in your ear. Although you had found a hidden space away from the battle, you were still exposed to danger. You stood carefully, pulling Hanbin up with you. Your only hope now was to get him back to safety as quickly as possible. His soul was still clinging to the bit of energy you had given him, but you wouldn’t have much time before it ran out completely. 

He stumbled as he rose to his feet, doing his best to support his own weight. He would have fallen back into your arms if something hadn’t hit him quicker. A small piece of silver, not more than 2 centimetres, seared straight through his chest, and a gasp fell from his lips.

You heard the shot. You felt it too, in the middle of your chest, a scathing pain spreading up your neck. You failed to catch Hanbin in time before he fell. 

It was over. You knew you had failed. Your options were expended and your time running out. Dropping to the ground as well, you clung to his body. With no energy left to fight, much less save him, you accepted the loss. Closing your eyes, you gathered him in your arms and pressed a kiss to his forehead as if you were comforting a small child.

It was a send off, of sorts. A last goodbye, and a testament to your love. He took his final breath, cradled safe in your arms, protected from the world. After all he had given for you, he deserved to rest comfortably. 

As his soul perished, you felt yours fading as well. He was taking you with him, knowing you could never live apart from him. Intertwined in every way, even until death. That was the fate you and him shared.

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[restlessmaknae]

dating (hypothetically)

One helpful act on a stranger’s part leads to a headline article the next day, and in 24 hours, your whole life takes a turn when the stranger is revealed to be the heartthrob rocker, Cho Seungyoun.

➳ Characters: solo rock singer!Seungyoun x female reader/you

➳ Genre: comedy, fluff, showbiz au

➳ Words: 7.3k

➳ Warning: mentions of paparazzi, crazy fans and therapy

➳ A/N: Dedicated to @lily-blue

➳ WOODZ taglist: @dat-town

➳ Check out: my WOODZ masterlist

Straight out of a kdrama: WOODZ is pulling his alleged girlfriend out of harm in new pictures

One of today’s hottest items, Cho Seungyoun (also known by his stage name WOODZ) was seen in a rather intimate position with his alleged girlfriend on 20th May at around 9pm in Sogong-dong. In the pictures, we can clearly see the heartthrob rocker and a mysterious young lady talking in front of a 7-Eleven store, the girl reaching something out to him, then the multitalented singer-songwriter pulling her towards him - out of harm as a motorbike is seen passing by. The close scene is making fans swoon worldwide as it looks like a scene straight out of a kdrama.

However, some fans expressed their disappointment that their favourite singer is seen around a young lady as he has not announced that he was taken. On top of that, just a month before the incident, WOODZ was quick to reassure fans at his latest fansign that he was single, and went on to explain that his songs were mostly about searching for one’s self-identity, telling his haters off and raging about today’s society because he did not have a lot of experience in love.

Meanwhile, WOODZ debuted as a solo rock singer in 2021, and is one of the emerging artists of today’s music scene in South Korea, shaking up the hearts of young girls with his aesthetic and high-energy MVs, head bobbing songs and even his not so secret tattoos (which you can see in this previous article).

Check out the pictures of WOODZ and his alleged girlfriend below!

What do you think about the news? Are you happy for WOODZ and his alleged girlfriend?

Most of the time, you would not read such articles. You didn’t care about celebrities’ rumours, you watched their movies, shows and listened to their music, but you couldn’t care less about whom they dated and whom they didn’t. You knew that it was usually fake either way, or if it was actually true, then it was disgusting that paparazzis could put pictures up on the Internet, and the celebrities in question would be the ones receiving all the hate, not the ones who took the pictures without the others’ consent.

However, now, you were the one involved, you were the one seen in the pictures, and given the location, given the unmistakably hanging 7 on the sign behind you, anyone who frequented this particular area knew that it was this specific 7-Eleven, not somewhere else. Your boss had been meaning to fix the hanging 7 that was pretty much a safety hazard now, but to your luck, it was caught on camera just like your work outfit and your dyed blue-black hair even if your face was blurred out. Anyone who could put two and two together would know that you were working here, not just being here on a casual date with this so-called heartthrob at 9pm.

“This is just unbelievable, who do they think they are?” You exclaimed angrily as you tossed the phone showing the article back to your co-worker, Yohan. He was the one who had brought up if you had seen the article published early in the morning after you had asked him why there were more people here than usual, and why they were giving you odd glances. So while Minhee was taking over the counter, you and Yohan were in the staff room, away from the curious eyes. Who knew when paparazzi would show up here at this rate?

“I thought the same. You and a rock singer dating? Please,” the younger boy huffed as if he had any right to talk about your non-existent love life like that when he himself wasn’t any better. When a pretty girl showed up at the counter, he basically malfunctioned. He could only be bratty to girls who treated him like a younger brother - yourself included.

“We are not dating. I was just giving his wallet back because he had left it on the table inside the store, then he thanked me for it, and then, the motorbike guy came, and yes, he did pull me towards him, but it was anything but romantic. I felt so awkward, I wanted the ground to swallow me up.”

“But why? You are the one who always complains that chivalry is dead!” Yohan pointed out with a raise of his eyebrows, and you had to give it to him that he was right.

“I don’t know, it was just… weird. He’s practically a stranger!” You reasoned as you leaned onto the shelf with the uniforms, your head throbbing ever since you had laid your eyes on the article. This could not be happening… This had to be a dream… You were the most ordinary person on Earth, why did you have to get caught up in a dating rumour with a rock singer?

“So you didn’t even exchange numbers that would mean you could contact him now?” Yohan broke the momentary silence, his face pondering. You, on the other hand, gave him a deadly glare as if he had asked if you had killed a person.

“No, of course not. I’ve told you there’s nothing between us.”

“It’s not too good then. How are you going to discuss what to do about the whole situation?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if celebrities discuss these things when they are rumoured to be with common people,” you reasoned, letting out a huff of air at the end of your answer. You ran a hand through your hair, not caring about the mess you would leave behind because it was a mess either way. Not just your hair but the whole situation.

As if it could get any worse, the door of the staff room flung open, and your manager walked in with his hands on his hips.

“Would anyone mind telling me why people are asking ME if the girlfriend of a certain singer is working here? And by anyone, I mean you,” he said as he pointed at you. Oh, come on, could this get any worse?

“Look, there’s nothing going on between me and that certain singer, I swear. I just went after him last night because he left his wallet behind. That’s all.”

You tried with your most confident tone and your most convincing puppy eyes, but you should have known that didn’t work on your manager. He wasn’t a bad manager, if anything, he was a reasonable boss. However, what he hated the most was drama, and if anyone caused trouble, he would go absolutely feral. Good thing that he hadn’t yet done so.

“This is still not good. People are flooding the store, and they don’t even buy anything. How did they even know it’s our store?”

“It’s because of the hanging 7 above the door,” Yohan chirped in, and even though he wanted to be helpful, it didn’t work because your boss just became even angrier.

“Fine, then I’ll fix the sign now, and you should take the day off while we figure out how to keep the peace of our store.”

“But-” You tried to protest, but your boss didn’t let you, and told you firmly to take the day off. He even mentioned that you should try to dye back your hair in case that would help with people not recognising you around here, and whilst it was reasonable on his part, you felt like a child being reprimanded for something you hadn’t even committed.

May it be your fury or the fact that you had the whole day to yourself afterwards, but you had a plan: if you didn’t know how to contact that so-called singer, you should find out where his agency was, and maybe, they would help you settle the case if you were cooperative.

Or so you hoped.

When you let Yohan know about your plan before leaving the store, he insisted on accompanying you. He came up with sillier and sillier answers as to why (what if crazy fans would flock you? What if someone would throw eggs at you? What if they wanted to throw you out of the agency when they got to know why you were there?), so you told him you would wait until the end of his shift, and then you can go together. In the meantime, you looked up this so-called WOODZ’s agency - it was his own agency according to the articles which made everything more and less intimidating at the same time -, and spiralled down into the hellhole of the internet, seeing too many versions of the story of last night, but none of them were true. Some even went as far as to say that you had been kissing after this singer had pulled you closer to him, and one commenter even said that she saw you leaving the store with the celebrity. Absolute nonsense, absolute bonkers. If you hated gossip before, now you absolutely detested it.

Getting inside the agency was no big deal as it seemed that there was an exhibition part of the building about the artist’s life that fans could visit, but getting through the receptionist to talk to Cho Seungyoun himself was more difficult.

“We can’t just let anyone inside that says that they are the girl in the articles.”

“Do you think I would come here for fun if I wasn’t that girl?” You counter-attacked the receptionist dude who couldn’t let you in for safety reasons which you could understand, but still, his explanations were getting on your nerves.

“Crazy fans do exist,” Yohan blurted out absent-mindedly beside you, totally not helping the situation. You gave him a deadly side-eye before turning back to the receptionist.

“Do they even dye their hair to the colour of my hair?” You threw the question at the dude behind the desk, then threw your hands up in the air out of frustration. “Then, what can I do to meet him? Can’t you just tell him that I’m here, and he can see for himself whether it’s me or not, then problem solved,” you suggested as your last piece of hope, and that seemed to spark something in him.

He gave you one long stare before picking up the phone and calling someone (hopefully the so-called heartthrob), then randomly took a photo of you, and when you asked what it was for, he explained that it was for identification to send to Mr Cho as he called the artist. Yohan mumbled something along the lines of ‘how cool’, and before you knew it, you were given a visitor’s pass, and told to go to the fifth floor.

“And what about me?” Yohan puckered his lips at the receptionist who seemed to be on the edge already.

“And who would you be?”

“Her colleague. Her emotional support colleague who wants to make sure that she’s treated right,” he answered all too seriously, and if you didn’t know him, you would say that he was overreacting, but you knew that he could be very adamant when it was about people who were close to him.

You two had been on good terms ever since he had started working at the convenience store and given that you were older and had worked there already, you had been the one to show him the ropes, and you had developed this sibling kind of relationship quickly. He and Minhee could talk about all the boyish topics they wanted while you gave him life advice when he needed it and got him out of trouble when he messed up an invoice or clumsily broke something.

“Fine. But no pictures or videos, either of you,” the dude warned you both before giving out a visitor pass to the younger boy as well who giddily followed you through the gates, and eventually to the fifth floor.

As soon as you stepped out, there was a 30-something guy waiting for you two who introduced himself as Han Seungwoo, WOODZ’s manager. Then, he led you to a meeting room after a few empty corners, and when you stepped inside, the rock singer was already there, looking up from a bunch of documents when you stepped inside.

Last night, the singer had been wearing a casual grey hoodie, similarly plain sweatpants and no make-up. He had looked like your typical boy-next-door, although he was far from a young boy now, and you had no handsome neighbours like him. Even though you would have wanted to deny, you couldn’t deny that he was attractive, not in a pushy way, not in an overwhelming way, but there was a certain degree of boyishness mixed in with his muscular features, and he just looked nice, even as a casual visitor last night.

Now though in a chic white shirt pulled up until his elbows, sliced back hair, slight dark make-up, he did look extra fine. Damn it, it would have been easier to shout his head off (to find a solution to the problem at hand, of course) if he hadn’t looked like that.

He stood up, bowed at you two before signalling to the chairs on the other side of the table.

“Good afternoon! Please, take a seat,” he greeted you two politely, and you exchanged a glance with Yohan beside you. Was he always extra nice, or was it because he didn’t want you to get more frustrated because he believed that you weren’t in the best mood? Either way, he was like a real gentleman, and even his voice was gentle (was a rock singer allowed to have such a gentle voice?) as he introduced himself officially while all of you were taking a seat at the table.

The artist’s manager sat beside Seungyoun himself (he mentioned that he preferred his real name, not his stage name) while you and Yohan were on the other side, introducing yourself quite clumsily, to be honest. However, Seungyoun didn’t give you an odd glance when Yohan introduced himself as your little brother-like colleague who was definitely not your boyfriend before he wanted to know.

“Well, thank you for the information,” Seungyoun chuckled hearing the younger boy’s words, and his eyes turned into little crescents as he was laughing. That was really cute or something, but you weren’t here for that. You were here to get out of this mess.

“So uhm… I don’t know how people do this usually, but can’t you release an article saying that there’s nothing between us, and explain what happened exactly? It’s giving me a hard time at work, people are flooding the store and asking questions. My manager is also quite agitated,” you explained in one-go, hoping that all this newfound information will make him empathise with you enough to agree to your plan.

There was a few seconds of silence when Seungyoun and his manager exchanged a glance, and you felt your heartbeat picking up its pace. What if they thought you were crazy? What if they didn’t want to stir up even bigger of a mess? Such thoughts crossed your mind, but the casual way they gave in eased your worries.

“There’s no guarantee that the public would believe you two, but we can try with an official release on the agency’s side,” the manager articulated solemnly, and you nodded immediately, knowing all too well that the public could think whatever they wanted despite the truth being far from the situation.

So you got started on putting together a statement, and since you were already there, Seungyoun wanted you to have a say in this. Not because he didn’t remember what had happened the night before (you couldn’t have wiped the memory from your mind even if you had wanted to), but because he wanted your consent as to what they would put out. Yohan nudged you in the side hearing that, and you mouthed a why, but he just gave you a smug, boyish grin in return. What was he up to, jeez?

The statement took longer than you would have thought so, and Yohan got so bored in the meantime that he started scrolling on his phone. Thank god he did though because another mess was on its way, it seemed.

“Oh… Ooohh… This is not good,” he vocalised while you were doing the finishing touches on the text, and all eyes were on him now. He pushed his phone to the middle of the table, an anonymous post with the title ‘WOODZ’s alleged girlfriend is seen at the artist’s agency' open on it. You immediately snatched the phone and scrolled down to read what they had to say.

“I saw WOODZ’s alleged girlfriend entering the boy’s agency earlier today, about an hour ago. She was seen with another guy who seemed like her brother or something… Either way, here are the photos I’ve taken… You can clearly see that it’s her, and now we can be even more sure that he’s dating her,” you quoted from the post, your mouth hanging agape at the end as you looked at the photos taken of you and Yohan entering the building. Even though you both had masks on, your dyed hair was still the same, and it seemed that it was enough for the eagle-eyed fan to spot you and make it into an announcement.

You felt like the ground opened up beneath you. Just how… Why… How did this even happen? How could showbiz be like this? When the rumours and drama were far away from you in magazines and on online boards, it did seem bad, but not this bad when you were directly the target of these rumours. It was one thing that you had gotten swirled up in one rumour, but to be caught up in another one? Sure, you could have been more careful when you had entered the building, but should you be paranoid from now on?

“I think at this point it would be easier if you two just… dated,” Yohan blurted out casually, and you felt your eyes widen as you gave him a glare.

“He has a point,” Seungyoun’s manager, Seungwoo, voiced out his opinion as well, and given the singer’s solemn face and lack of response, you had a feeling that he felt the same way.

“That does not solve the problem of me not being able to work because of what’s happening at the store.”

“You can work here. We have some vacancies,” the rock singer suggested seriously, his eyes boring into yours. You could tell that he was being genuine, and since he was the CEO of his own company, he could make it work, but still…

“Wouldn’t that make everything worse?”

“Well, that depends on how you see it. If you work here, we can give you a piece of mind as no one will bother you here. You can also come in from the back or from the garage which are for staff only, not through the main entrance which is for the general public. We can also appoint you a security guard if you would like to. It’s my company, so we could also make adjustments as you see fit. You wouldn’t need to feel like you inconvenience anyone because this is what we do here, that’s our job,” he announced confidently as if he had practised it already. Maybe it wasn’t a surprise that he could lead his own company, he seemed to take everything into consideration while speaking eloquently about a matter.

“We can’t do that elsewhere, but I also understand that you have your own job, your own goals, your friends and colleagues there, so it might not be your first choice,” he added a bit belatedly when you still didn’t speak up. He kept the eye-contact with you, but that just made everything worse because you wanted to believe him. You felt like you could believe him when he looked at you like that, but it was still so sudden, so new and so… scary.

“I… I think I need a bit more time to think about this,” you concluded when you found your voice, and the artist and his manager both nodded.

Seungyoun asked his manager to give you a pass if you needed to come by in the future, you also exchanged contacts, and you also decided to drop posting the official announcement for now. The singer told you to contact him anytime you felt like you needed it because of the situation, and before you would have left, he even apologised for the trouble.

“It’s not your fault. You can’t change the fact that you are a celebrity,” you responded out of empathy, and you saw hurt flash across his orbs, but you didn’t want to ask about it. You were sure that he had his fair share of hardships while being in the spotlight even without articles being written about him.

Maybe he was going through one right now as well.

Working at Seungyoun’s agency seemed like the most reasonable choice given the circumstances, but it took you a whole bunch of supposedly helpful things - such as writing a pros and cons list - and totally unhelpful things - such as tossing and turning in bed at night for two days in a row to make that decision. In the meantime, you went to dye your hair to black and cut it jaw-length short - shorter than it had ever been - so as to at least confuse the paparazzi or fans if they passed you by or came by the store. You still got odd glances, but at least you could have some peace of mind before leaving the store - and your lovely coworkers - behind. Your manager let you quit immediately given the circumstances, and Seungyoun let you join a few days later when you felt ready and had enough of being scooped up at home. You were more nervous about going outside when you were alone at home than when you were actually outside.

It didn’t mean that it wasn’t scary, but they were really nice at the company, and apart from Seungwoo, the artist’s manager, and Wooseok, the receptionist (you got to know his name later on), no one knew who you actually were, which was a relief. You had your own pass, your own duties as an assistant in the production office, and since you were a newbie (and that’s how you had been introduced to everyone on the first day), no one looked at you weird or deemed you incapable. They showed you the ropes, and soon enough, you were sucked into the world of album production, concept making, marketing plans and merchandise distribution. In the meantime, the rumours died down a bit though it didn’t mean that you were 100% rid of your fears and slight paranoia whenever you stepped outside.

Seungyoun, on the other hand, was kind and polite like the first time you met him - to be precise, the second time, but the first one at his company -, and when you bumped into each other in the corridor, he frequently halted to ask how you were doing and what you were up to. He did that with other employees as well, so you weren’t an exception, but it felt nice that he cared nevertheless. Especially because you knew that he was super busy recording for a new album, and he had his own company to run, so he had a lot to do.

You did look him up in the meantime, listening to some of his songs, and actually found yourself growing fond of his own style, especially when you felt like you could conquer the world while listening to a few of his angriest songs (they were great for singing in the shower when the stress got to you).

However, you didn’t really look up his stages and such, so when you were in a meeting to decide on his outfits for his next comeback and they were showing old press and stage photos and even videos of past performances, you were taken aback to see more revealing clothes on him such as sleeveless shirts, blazers without anything underneath and tank tops. You hoped that no one noticed that you were visibly shocked because you sure were. Seeing him in his usual cardigan and cotton pants combo or elegant, usually loose shirts were common, but seeing him like that on stage… well, that made you feel a bit uneasy because he seemed to know the power he had on his fans.

Days went by, the comeback was closer, and days got longer as everyone prepared extra hard. So after a long day when you wanted to have some time to yourself before leaving for home and joining the hustle-bustle of the commuting city centre, you went up to the rooftop of the company building. You looked at the buzzing city beneath you with all its sparkling city lights while taking a few sips from your carbonated drink and trying to ease the headache that was creeping onto you.

However, when the door to the rooftop flung open, and Seungyoun himself walked out, you felt uncharacteristically bashful as if you had been caught red-handed being here. It was common for colleagues to come up here during breaks, you just happened to be here on your own now. Well, he didn’t seem to mind your presence either, just asked if he could join you.

“Sure. It’s your company after all,” you told him semi-jokingly, and he reciprocated your smile as he stepped beside you, leaning onto the rail just like you did. He had a really charming smile, you had to admit, and it was lovely when his eyes turned into little crescents because he was someone who had that typical cute eye smile that could make girls swoon.

“Sometimes I still find it hard to believe that it’s mine,” he admitted as he looked at the city. You had read that he had been writing and producing songs, even being a back-up vocalist for a lot of acclaimed artists before creating his own company and debuting as a solo artist. You didn't know before that people could be paid a lot from royalties, but he sure had his name on a lot of different artists’ songs, and he had also been working part-time before becoming a full-time musician. So he had absolutely worked hard for it, that was one for certain.

“Is it better or worse to have your own company?”

“In a lot of aspects, I think it’s better because I have a lot more freedom, I have a lot more say in my artistic direction, but on the other hand, if I get into a scandal or my sales go down, the whole company could suffer the consequences including the trainees and solo artists that are here now,” he concluded as eloquently as always, and you couldn’t help but think of the dating rumour that you two had been a part of.

“I’m sorry that-”

“You don’t need to be sorry for that. I didn’t mention the scandals because of that,” Seungyoun cut you off before you could immediately go full-on regretful mode. Then, he gave you a soft, gentle smile, and continued slowly yet confidently. “Part of being in this industry is about dealing with the rumours and groundless accusations. They are pretty much inevitable, so one needs to work on themselves to withstand it. I also did that through counselling, and I still see a psychologist from time to time. They’ve helped me a lot at the beginning of my career, and it’s good to have those sessions to clear my mind and give space to more important thoughts and ideas.”

You heard of the free psychological consultation artists, trainees and employees under the company could sign up for, and you applauded Seungyoun for the initiative and also for speaking up about the matter. It must not be easy for him with the stigma around mental health in the industry, but that was just one more reason you looked up to him.

Since he shared something more vulnerable about himself, you decided to do the same. So after a long breath, you shared with him that you had also seen a psychologist when you hadn’t gotten into university upon graduation, and you had believed that all of your dreams had been crashed and taken away from you. It had been such a dark time for you, something that you didn’t like talking about, but it led you to start working at the 7-Eleven and make friends with your colleagues - something that you had never taken for granted afterwards.

“What would you have wanted to become? If you don’t mind sharing,” he inquired after sharing your sentiment that reaching out to a professional in times of need isn’t unnecessary, but rather brave.

“You’re going to laugh-” You started tentatively as the young man turned towards you to give you a semi-offended glare.

“I won’t, I promise.”

He looked at you like a puppy that was waiting for a treat, eyes all shiny and bright under the dim lights around, and after a long sigh, you gave him your answer.

“I wanted to be a journalist. Not the gossip magazine type, but maybe writing about hidden gems in Seoul, travel content and interviewing people about their life stories.”

When you finished, there was a moment of silence before the boy erupted into laughter. You almost threw hands at him because he had promised not to laugh, but before you could do so, he justified his action, still giggling.

“I thought you would say something like… I don’t know… astrophilosophy, and that’s why you said I would laugh.”

“What? Would you have laughed if I had told you so?” You raised a challenging eyebrow, but in the next moment, you also found yourself laughing along with him.

Gosh, it seemed so easy to be around him like this, it almost seemed easy to imagine that it could always be like this with him despite you two having quite a bit of a history yourselves. You didn’t even want to think about the what ifs regarding your future, you just enjoyed this moment and the conversation you were having.

You didn’t know just how crazy a comeback season could be until you found yourself in one, but it was super busy, everyone was doing a lot of work, and although you were only an assistant, not the ones actually making decisions and tracking sales and engagement, you were always on the go as well. It kept your mind occupied, so you didn’t have to worry about your paranoid thoughts that actually easened a bit once Seungyoun made his comeback and mentioned that the truth wasn’t what was written in those articles once asked about it at a fansign.

He didn’t outright deny anything, he shared only this much, and asked fans to understand that if he didn’t come out with a story on his own, it was to protect the privacy of the person involved (aka you), and he wanted to be as considerate as possible in such an intrusive situation as it was. It seemed to calm the nerves of the fans, and since the boy didn’t post anything suspicious on social media or said anything that could indicate more, the rumours died down. Seungyoun even won at music shows and his album sales were solid, so the rumour didn’t seem to affect his comeback (thank god).

Yohan was having the time of his life in the meantime though, watching variety shows of Seungyoun during his breaks at work because he was loving the idea that you were now working for the singer (he said it was like a fanfic coming true). Instead of you, now he had Minhee and Hyeongjun - the new employee to replace you - to chat to, and as quiet as Minhee was, Hyeongjun was a chatterbox, so these three really gave you a headache with all their questions in the groupchat Yohan made for you all. Somehow it seemed that you adopted these boys as little brothers, and they were living their best life being your adopted siblings.

Thankfully, your parents were also reassured that even though you changed jobs so quickly, you managed the new tasks and responsibilities well, and despite them not having heard of your rumour before, you came clear to them, and explained everything. As expected, they believed you over the rumours and were extremely happy to see that the singer protected your privacy, yet stood up for you (and himself as well).

However, even with a pretty successful comeback season ending, work didn’t stop, and it was true for you and Seungyoun as well. You needed to ask him about some materials, but when you asked his manager, he told you to check his office first. The singer wasn’t there, so Seungwoo suggested his studio.

As you got closer to his recording studio, you could already hear an unfamiliar melody in the hallway. Not that you had listened to all of his songs (okay, maybe you had done so a few times), but you knew most of his songs, so you guessed that he wasn’t practising but rather working on new songs. You decided to ask about it once you knocked on the door and he let you in.

“Are you working on a new song?”

“Yeah, work never stops, and it’s good when inspiration hits,” he explained as he looked up from his keyboard, a weary albeit gentle smile playing on his lips. Even though you were here to ask a work-related question, you couldn’t help but pry a bit. You knew that he was always so enthusiastic to talk about his music to anyone, so you hoped he wouldn’t mind.

“It sounded a bit different from what you usually put out. Are you venturing into something new?” You quirked an eyebrow, curious and genuine as usual. He dropped a shy smile, scratching the back of his neck as if he was unsure what to call this new song.

“I want to, but I’m just experimenting for now,” he reasoned almost timidly, and this was the side of him that you usually didn’t see in a work setting. You saw clips of him being shy when fans complimented him or when other musicians called him their role model, but he was usually this confident, ever-so-ready-to-take-on-the-world kind of artist and CEO at the company, so it was rare to see him in such a state. 

“Do you want to have a listen?” Seungyoun inquired as he kept the eye-contact. There was no challenge in his eyes, no fear, no pressure… He was just there, suggesting something that you didn’t know whether he suggested to a lot of people, but you didn’t have any reason to say no.

So you took a seat beside him while he was clicking something on his computer, then the first few accords of the song started slowly, calmly. It was like walking on the beach, by the ocean, reminiscing about the past while getting lost in the crystal clear water peacefully reaching for the sand under your feet. Then, the song gradually picked up its pace, and the waves started crashing down on the shore, unpredictable and hard, like a sudden rainpour that brings heavy winds, dark clouds and unforgiven rain.

The song went back to a more tranquil pace after the first chorus, but the waves hit again at the second chorus, and the water kept coming and coming through the bridge, and with one last burst of rage, it came to an end.

You felt like the air was sucked out of your lungs when it ended, the song felt so personal and raw. Just like how in those movies, you see all these flashbacks while the character is rushing to turn their life around, this is how you felt when you were listening to this song, and when it ended, it seemed like there was an intersection where you could choose where to go, what to take away with you.

“Wow… that was… amazing,” you jumbled the first words that came to your mind because truly, you were very positively taken aback.

“Did you really like it? You can be honest-”

“I really liked it. It was really heartbreaking though…” You admitted as you turned your head to look at the singer. When he was all scooped up like this, many empty water bottles on his desk, bright, wide eyes waiting for your answer, he seemed more like a school kid hoping that you liked the idea he had or the small thing he had put together than the CEO of this very company.

However, there must have been a reason he let you listen to this song, and even though you could have easily dodged the question, you decided to ask about it.

“Was it inspired by real life? You don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable…”

“Yeah, it was,” he told you directly, cutting you off. There were a lot of instances when you could feel the emotion in a singer’s voice, and Seungyoun’s song had to be the prime example of that. It was like he was bleeding through the syllables, that’s why you had such a gut feeling. 

You didn’t even want to push for more because he seemed to be zoning out after his answer, but a few seconds later, he started sharing the story behind the song.

“I had a relationship before I became a solo singer, and part of why she left me was because of me potentially becoming famous. We kept getting into arguments, and I knew I couldn’t ask her to stay because I understood a part of her reasoning, but after a while, she always found something to nitpick, and nothing I did seemed to please her. It just got messy, and I didn’t really write love songs because it was difficult not to be reminded of the whole experience. But now the inspiration just hit and this song was born in three days,” he shared without batting an eye.

The more he talked, the more your heart churned, and you wondered if it were to ever be released, how would this particular girl react to it. Seungyoun wrote in the song that he was madly in love, but he was tired of the arguments, and how she always left him first, leaving him behind, bleeding and badly hurt. It might have been even messier than you could have imagined.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled tentatively, though you wished you could have said more, said something better. You knew that relationships could be messy, but hearing about someone’s experience who was this gentle and who had such a big heart, you had this feeling that you wanted him to have the best possible relationship he could have. You wanted to see him happy, you wanted to hear his love songs that were more joyful. Was that weird?

Seungyoun’s raspy voice was the one that brought you back to reality.

“I just don’t know if I can ever ask anyone to give up a part of their privacy to be with me,” he shared like a sorrowful plea, and this time, you didn’t need to search for the words. You were ready to give him your point of view.

“Look, you made it happen in my case as well. I think you’ll be able to work it out if both parties want to.”

“Would you really let it?” Seungyoun inquired, and you didn’t have to ask him to specify what he meant. You knew that he was asking about you agreeing to a public relationship, and given that you had that experience or semi-experience, you knew that it was both easier and more complicated than one would think. Yet, it wasn’t the idea that surprised you, it was the way he asked about it. As if he was asking about it in your case as well. As if he was asking about it because…

“Like hypothetically, of course…” He added belatedly when he saw you gaping at him like a fish, unable to blurt out any coherent words.

“Of course…”

“If we actually dated, would you really be willing to give up a part of your privacy for me?” Seungyoun asked head-on, and though you were dancing along the lines of the hypothetical-not so hypothetical question, your heart was bouncing like crazy.

“Yes. You’re a great person and you deserve it. I mean, if hypothetically I was in love with you, I would feel that even more intensively. It might not work out, but at least I would want to give it a try,” you confessed straightforwardly, each and every one of your words genuine. From what you had seen and what you had experienced beside Seungyoun, you had a feeling that he would be the most caring, most considerate boyfriend who would want to do nothing but protect and cherish his significant other, and even just the thought of it sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

His lips blossomed into a coy, yet joyous smile, and you had to look away for a few seconds to be able to think straight. Afterwards, you tried to divert the topic to the actual question you had come here to ask regarding work, but even after you dealt with that and left his studio, you had this fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

Oh boy, were you in love?

You didn’t mean to, but somehow you blurted out what you had talked about with Seungyoun regarding you two hypothetically dating, and Hyeongjun went crazy in the groupchat. He said that it was a sure sign the singer was in love with you, but you shrugged off his words.

Nevertheless, the more you tried to pay attention to Seungyoun’s actions towards you, the more you realised that despite him being a very polite person in general, he wasn’t like that to other employees; he didn’t get them their favourite brand of fruit juice at the end of long days, he didn’t have hour-long conversations with them on the rooftop of the agency, he didn’t share more and more songs with them in his studio after working hours, he didn’t offer them to give them a ride home, and he most definitely didn’t fall asleep on their shoulder once he pulled an all-nighter in his studio and was tired the next day.

On the other hand, with him, it wasn’t like crashing and burning, it was a gradual landing, not an instant fall. You both needed time to open up, to be more sure about the other’s intentions and feelings, and slowly yet surely, you walked towards the same direction. There was no grande scene either when you confessed, it was just like any other day, it was just like any other recording studio session when he showed you one of his songs, and somewhere along the lines, he admitted that his question wasn’t about hypothetically dating, and you admitted that you knew.

Afterwards, you were both smiles and giggles, and nothing really changed, except that there was an even more peaceful air around you two. Apart from that, everything was the same, you still kept things professional during working hours, but one thing was for sure: at least you could tell Hyeongjun that he was right: Seungyoun’s question wasn’t actually about hypothetically dating.

You didn’t even mind though.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think!

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for WOODZ or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

[jewelz11]

Period Cramps

a/n: hi!!! this is my first ever little writing so i thought a drabble would be good to get me started. figured this would be a good topic since i am currently suffering in bed. anyway! i hope you enjoy this and please give me any suggestions to write about or any critics on this! love you!

no warnings! all fluff

logan x reader (i imagined x1/x2 logan but you can imagine any) ⇩

Your periods are your worst nightmare. Every month for one week you experience the worst pain anything can ever bring you; even with your mutation, the pain is rough. When you started dating Logan, he never knew the right way to comfort you. This man would get you chocolate, your favorite food, run a bath, and try a cuddle with you; yet the pain would still be there, and he felt hopeless. Logan has heightened senses, so he knows your entire cycle, from your mood swings in your follicular phase to the nonstop horniness in your ovulation stage to the dreading menstruation phase. 

He loves you with all his heart, but sometimes it can get a little overwhelming for him because he hates to see you in pain, especially the type of pain he doesn’t know how to cure. 

“Princess?” Logan says quietly, walking into your dark shared room. You hum in response as you are curled up in your bed. “Can I get you anything?” He walks over to the side of the bed and rubs your back.

“No,” you briefly state. He sighs softly and moves to get up from the bed. “Stay,” you say, lower than a whisper. A slow smile creeps up on his face before looking at you, your back still facing him.

He kicks off his shoes then joins you in bed, wrapping you in his arms and holding you all night, wishing he could give you his strong healing powers so you can be back on your feet.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he whispers into your neck, thinking you were asleep.

[777yjw]

YOUTH BLOSSOM 🪷

sypnosis :: L/N Y/N, the IT girl of Decelis Academy, has always been expected to date Hwang Intak, the IT boy of Decelis Academy. They were both off-limits for everyone but each other and every single student at Decelis Academy knew that. However, this expectation is challenged when her best friend Pham Hanni, suddenly announces her "secret crush" on the same guy as her?! Y/N can't tell if she's lucky or not when one day during cleaning time, her fellow classmate Yang Jungwon, offers to fake date her and get Pham Hanni off of her back about her own crush on Hwang Intak after the supposed confession that happened.

(Heavily inspired by the webtoon "Seasons of Blossom" Bomi's Flower)

pairing(s) :: gamer! jungwon x IT girl! reader, slight IT boy! intak x IT girl! reader

genre :: non-idol au, high school au, smau, opposites attract, fake dating trope, strangers to lovers, minor love triangle, fluff, angst, romance, slice of life, crack

featuring :: Wonyoung - IVE (faceclaim), Enhypen, Hanni - NewJeans, Keeho & Jongseob & Intak & Soul - P1Harmony, Hikaru & Youngeun - Kep1er, etc.

warnings :: swearing, kys/kms jokes, [the rest will be posted with the chapters]

status :: ongoing! [starting april 7]

NOTE :: this smau does not at all, reflect what the idols would be like in real life. this is 100% FICTION and they are written how they are for the sake of the story.

authors note :: hello hi this is my first smau and i'm very excited to start it! first chapter should be posted within a week or so :3

CLIQUES :: star girls 🌟 / W wingmen 💪 / league 🤢 players / extras

EPISODES

Ep 1. ungrateful ass BITCH [smau + written]

Ep 2. BREAKING! [smau + written]

Bonus Ep. jake's emo streak

Ep 3. sunoo detective era

Ep 4. y/n notice x1!!

taglist is open! send an ask off anon or comment under any chapter to be added!

TAGLIST :: @ifearjwn @iaaah @aki1e @ensrfm @whippedforbeomgyu @enhafika @artstaeh @weyukinluv @astrae4 @woncheecks @enhy4me2

[sorri-kun]

Meet the author!!

Hello! Most of you might know me from my other account @foxilsdenn . If you don't, here's my introduction!

Hello! My name is Foxil and I write male for male reader fics! I'm open to any requests but this accounts main focus will be IFFABB(I Fell for a Biker Boy).

I'm Blasian(Black and Korean) and I was born and raised in Australia. Recently I moved to the US for personal reasons, and I love it so far.

I'm currently in high school studying Japanese as a 3rd language. My favorite colors are dark Blue, maroon red, and midnight black.

What I write: kpop x male reader, kpop x kpop, kpop x gender neutral reader, male x male/gender neutral reader

Genres: smut, fluff, anything else

More about me

Kpop enthusiast

Groups I stan are

NCT all units (5), NU'EST, Xdinary Heroes, Stray Kids, MAMAMOO, P1Harmony, EXO, VAV, GOT7, BlockB, The Rose, ASTRO, Cravity, MCND, SuperM, DAY6, ATEEZ, 8TURN, The Boyz, SUPER JUNIOR, SHINee, TXT, Twice, Red Velvet, WayV, NMIXX, Everglow, X1, Enhyphen, 2PM, 2AM, New Jeans, XIKERS, Boys Next Door and ZB1

My ults are SKZ, TXT, ATEEZ, and ENHYPHEN

SKZ ult bias: changbin, I.N, Minho, Felix, Han

TXT ults: Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Heuning Kai

ATEEZ ults: San, Wooyoung, Seonghwa

ENHA ults: Sunoo, Ni-Ki, Jake

Other socials!

Spotify: Foxil is silly willy

Snap: yongbok.kie (display name: Blue/Azure)

Discord: m3oweacha

Works!

[IFFABB]

Fic requests!

None yet :3

Original work by Foxilswhispers, please dont translate without permission! Reblog and likes are greatly appreciated :3

@ 2023 | copyright | @foxilsdenn | @sorri-kun |

[cevenths]

✷ DETAILS

there will be mature themes on this blog in terms of what i reblog and write! please be mindful of that if you are a minor and filter out the tag ‘nsfw’ (to do so, go into the general settings and scroll down to ‘filtering’). while i cannot control what you read, i do ask that you at least be respectful and do not interact with those posts.

━━━━ GUIDELINES

⋆ fluff, angst, and suggestive/smutty themes are fine. as of right now, i am not comfortable with writing full smut—for me, this means p in v or anything that is simply p. without plot—or dark content of any kind, so please do not request it! please be mindful that i can also decline a request if i see fit.

⋆ ‘x reader’s only; the reader will have no defining characteristics (hair type, skin color, etc.). i will write for gender neutral and female readers.

⋆ i am a student, so larger fic requests are closed for the time being! drabbles and thoughts are always welcome, though

━━━━ WHO I WRITE FOR

most of ‘a league of their own’ 1992 and 2022; sam monroe (life as a house); ellie williams (the last of us); fred weasley (harry potter); logan howlett (x men): mostly x1 & 2 and origins; gabriel van helsing (van helsing); . . .

[candyshua]

i’m the anon who asked abt u accepting x1 reqs or not! can u write a seungyoun oneshot — a really fluffy smut maybe? where every lil thing abt the reader effects him? hueheu thank u!

sure thing!! sorry if this isn’t the greatest, most detailed smut lol. i’ve never had sex before, so i based this off of other smuts i have read lmfao. anywho, enjoy!!! 

Genre: Fluff, Smut, PWP

Word Count: 836

Warnings: Vanilla sex, light dom/sub themes, foul language, praising

You really don’t know how you got here. Just a few moments ago, you were watching a movie with your boyfriend, Seungyoun, as happy as can be.

Now, you were staring up at your boyfriend with confused eyes, as his entire body hovered over you on the couch you were on. 

“Can I help you?” You asked, feigning innocence. Seungyoun just let out an exasperated sigh of frustration.

“God, Y/N!” He shouted while smiling incredulously. You giggled, which made him smile even more. 

“Yes, Seungyoun?” You grinned. 

“Why are you so fucking perfect?” Seungyoun cracked, gulping worriedly. Now, he was standing up, while you just sat on the couch watching him with humorous eyes. 

“I dunno.” You laughed, and he just sat there, completely in awe. You were just so amazing, and Seungyoun was madly in love with you. Whenever you’d smile, laugh, or just do anything remotely in the realm of cuteness, Seungyoun would flip his shit. Why did you have to be so amazing?

“Hey, Seungyoun?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” 

Seungyoun’s mouth fell agape. Seungyoun then beamed, yet again, because you were just too damn cute.

“I love you too.” He answered, and you just rolled your eyes and cracked a tiny smile. You then got up off of the couch and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. After breaking away from him, he immediately grabbed your waist and pulled you in for another kiss, this time much more deep and intimate. It didn’t take long for Seungyoun to get all hot and bothered. He lifted you up and your legs hugged his waist. He then carried you to the bedroom, excitement prominent in both of you.

He gently dropped you onto the bed, kissing you again. You smiled against the kiss, feeling nothing but pure love and adoration for him.

He cupped your face with his large hands, and he soon began to undress you. In between kisses, Seungyoun muttered, “God, Y/N, you’re so fucking perfect.” 

After your shirt was off, he kneeled in front of you, hovered over you, merely admiring you. He couldn’t help but smile, because you were all his. He attached his lips to yours again, undoing your bra with ease. His hands trailed from your collarbone to your hips, which he grabbed firmly. You shivered under his touch.

He then slipped his hand into your underwear, teasing you. You let out a soft moan, which made him go crazy. He broke the kiss and just looked at you. Your parted lips and soft, breathy moans, along with your disheveled hair and innocent eyes. He just stared at you in awe.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” Seungyoun confessed, finally letting two of his fingers slip into your sensitive heat. Your back arched off the bed, and Seungyoun smiled at you with lust and love in his eyes, wanting nothing else but to make you feel good, to make you feel loved. He quickened the pace, his long digits slipping in and out of you at a fiery speed. 

Soon, you felt the tension in your lower stomach snap, as waves of pleasure washed over you. You whined, calling his name while climaxing. 

While maintaining eye contact with you, he slipped his fingers into his mouth, your essence all over them. You whined again, since his lustful eyes staring down at you made you even more excited. 

He kissed you again, finally pulling your pants down and taking off your underwear. He undid his belt, and soon his hard length was seen poking through his boxers. He kissed you while slipping out of his boxers, pumping himself. 

He finally slid into you, making you moan out of delight and shock. He continued to kiss you until he quicked the pace. He continuously hit your g-spot over and over again, making tears of pleasure roll down the sides of your face. You didn’t miss him muttering “I love you, Y/N,” right before he pulled out. He then came on your stomach, while he fingered you to make sure you reached your climax. 

You finally came again. After his fingers left your entrance, he cooed “Good girl,” which drove you absolutely insane.

Little did you know, Seungyoun was absolutely over the moon. He wondered what good deeds he did in his past life to help get him in this situation, which was being helplessly in love with you. 

Seungyoun went to the bathroom and got a towel. He came back and cleaned you off, smiling at your shy demeanor. You blushed, not wanting to look him in the eye. 

After cleaning you up, he snuggled up next to you while kissing the back of your shoulders. His hand snaked around your waist, and you didn’t have much trouble falling asleep. Seungyoun, on the other hand, was still on a high from you.

And in that quiet moment, Seungyoun knew that he was undeniably in love with you, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.