#I doubt I’ll write something like this often

[holylulusworld]

Together alone

Summary: You try to believe in your blooming relationship with Clark.

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, loner reader, introvert reader, love-struck Clark, low self-esteem, fluff, Lois bashing, Lois is the worst,

Catch up here: Not alone any longer &  Alone again - Naturally

The world looks much brighter today. Clark invited you for another date—a real date this time. He officially asked you out. Not as a friend, but as a man who’s interested in you.

Even the boring story you’re writing about seems to be more interesting as your fingers fly over the keyboard.

“All done before the deadline,” you say to yourself. “That’s great. This way, I’ll have enough time to choose an outfit for my date with Clark.”

You gasp. A date! It’s a date. Clark Kent. Investigative Reporter. Superman. A hero asked you out.

Doubts creep into your mind. What if he only tries to be nice? What if he only wants to ensure you’re not spilling his secret? What if... what if...

You start panting heavily. Hands clasped together, you rock back and forth in your chair.

“Stop,” you tell yourself. “Stop!” You say it a little louder. “Clark is not like the others. He’s nice and sweet. Clark likes you. He wouldn’t have asked you out if he didn’t like you.”

You nod to yourself and push the nagging voice in the back of your head away. She holds no power over you. Not since Clark held you in his arms for the first time.

He’s so nice and sweet. You still can’t believe he’s interested in you, but you believe Clark when he tells you that he likes you just the way you are.

“I need to find something cute but sexy to wear. Let’s take a look at the wardrobe.”

You feel nice. No, you feel pretty in the floral blue off-shoulder mini dress you found hidden in the back of your wardrobe. It was hidden there for two years, bought for a date that never happened.

The man asking you out never showed. Weeks later, you saw him with some other girl he met on his way to his date with you. One look at her, and he was done for.

He didn’t even have the decency to call to cancel the date.

Shaking your head, you take a deep breath. Clark will show, and you’ll have a nice day. He is not like the other people leaving you hanging. Even though he’s not human, Clark is the best person you ever met.

You smile when a knock saves you from listening to the nagging voice again. Clark. He’s here to stay, not to play with your fragile heart.

Hastily opening the door, you stare into the wrong eyes. Lois sneers as she looks you up and down.

“I told you to stay away from my boyfriend,” she snarls and pushes against your shoulders, making you stumble and slip on the floor. You end up on the ground, whimpering in pain. “Clark is off-limit! Stay away from him, you frigid bitch!”

“Why are you here?” You sniffle as you try to scramble to your feet. “Clark is not your boyfriend. He doesn’t want to be with you! You broke up with him. We did nothing wrong.”

“I don’t care if I broke up with Clark,” she snaps at you. “You can’t come around and claim him to be yours. If I ever see you together again, you’ll regret your birth.”

She stands over you, panting heavily as you stare up at her. This is not the woman you called your friend not so long ago. Maybe she was never the woman you believed she was.

Lois is showing her true colors since Clark asked you out for the first time. And she doesn’t even know about his secret.

“Because I had to come here, my car got destroyed,” she accuses. “Superman had to use his powers and accidentally destroyed it. This is all your fault. As always, you’re nothing but a burden.”

You whimper. This is your worst fear coming true. Being a burden to anyone is the last thing you want. “ I—” Your voice cracks. She’s not wrong. You’ve been a burden to Clark from the beginning. He had to save you, and now he feels responsible for you.

“It wasn’t Y/N’s fault your car got destroyed,” Clark says after he landed on your balcony, as so often lately.

Usually, he’d come to you after dark, so no one would watch Superman come to you. You whimper when Superman steps inside your living room. He frowns, seeing you on the ground. Clark can hear your heart race and hear the tiny whimpers leave your lips.

His hands ball into fists, and he’s close to ripping Lois apart. Clark won’t, of course not. He’s not like that. If he uses his powers against a human, Clark will hate himself for the rest of his life.

“Last time was a warning, Lois Lane,” Clark steps closer. He easily picks you up to place you on your couch. Before he turns toward Lois, he checks on you, carefully running his hand over your hair. “This time, it won’t be a warning.”

Faster than you can blink, he grabs Lois by her upper arms, jumps out of the window with her, and flies up in the sky with her. She screams in terror, clawing at him.

“You’re a hero! Why are you doing this?”

“Because—” he snarls at her, “Y/N Y/N/ and Clark Kent are under my protection. You’re a threat, and I won’t allow you to hurt one of them ever again. So, consider this a final warning.” Clark’s eyes flash red for a second. “If you ever get close to Y/N or Clark again, I’ll forget for only a second that I’m a hero.”

He lands on the closest roof, putting Lois back on shaky legs.

“I—I,” she stammers. For the first time in her life, Lois Lane is speechless and scared to the bones. “I won’t.”

“Good,” Clark pushes off the roof, ignoring Lois, who falls to her knees and hugs herself.

“Y/N,” Clark softly speaks to you. “I’m sorry for scaring you. The moment I heard Lois say all those hurtful things, I lost control. Please forgive me.”

He kneels in front of the couch, carefully touching your knee.

“Clark, I,” you sniffle and hold out your hands for him. “I’m not mad at you. She was so vile, and I didn’t find my voice. I’m mad at myself for being pathetic. You had to save and defend me once again because I couldn’t do it myself.”

“Blossom,” he scrambles to his feet to wrap you in a hug. “I’d do anything for you, Blossom. If I must, I’ll burn the world for you.”

“Please don’t burn the world for me,” you hide in his chest and sigh. “Even though, it was funny hearing her scream bloody murder.”

Clark holds you a little tighter. He sighs and closes his eyes. Today, he lost control because of his feelings for you. He was scared to do something he’d regret.

“I promise this will never happen again. Please don’t think bad of me for scaring Lois.” He nuzzled you.

You crawl onto his lap and wrap your arms around him. “I’d never think bad of you, Clark. We all lose control sometimes. You didn’t go too far; that’s what counts.”

“I ruined our date.”

“Lois ruined it.” You softly say. “I like the end of it, though. We could order food and watch a movie and cuddle on the sofa.”

Clark nodded against you. For a moment, he just held you in his arms. You both were lonely. Now you are still two lost people in a world you don’t belong to, but at least you are together.

Tags in reblog.

[passacalia-bg3]

I want to thank everyone a little during a break between postings. Likes and subscriptions to my art with Minthara and Afaleon really mean a lot to me. When I started drawing them in early September, I didn’t think at all that so many people would like what I was doing. It kind of looks strange - a drow paired with a dragonborn - with a half-beast in fact. I drew more for myself. It was a pleasant surprise for me that people actually remember this pairing and like it. When I was getting a lot of likes on my tweets with art of them on Twitter, I thought that maybe my art just got caught up in the furry side of this site. But then I made a blog for BG3 here and saw how I was received here, and I read all your tags for my art in reposts and realized that it seems that my success (?) is not an impostor.

So yes, I am very pleased to receive all this attention and your love. This is probably the first time I have become famous for something to some extent. This is important to me as an artist for many reasons. Behind every piece of art you see there is a person. And so it’s nice simply because I’m the person who happened to Be Seen.

Thanks everyone <3

[mcrdvcks]

Oblivious, Baby, Oblivious

Summary: People would tell you that geniuses don't know everything, but you tell them that defeats the purpose of the word. Until one day you're proven wrong.

Word Count: 17.4k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: i came up with this idea a few days ago and had to write it down. basically reader is a genius and her mutation is controlling nature (her code name is 'flora' but it's not used often. and yes, it's a winx club reference, sue me)

i tried to make it as inclusive as i could, but i'm still learning since this is only my second reader fic.

i would like to turn this into a oneshot series, so don't be afraid to send in any requests!

warnings: few uses of y/n, logan uses a lot of pet names for reader, slight innocent!reader

You had only been at the X-Mansion for a year and yet all the students seemed to love you. At first, you thought that no teenager would want to come out to the large greenhouse you had set up, but you were proven wrong.

At the end of every day, right before dinner, dozens of kids would come out and help you water the plants and pull out the weeds.

It was certainly not what you expected to do after college, especially after only having your PhD’s for 2 years. It had all started when you met Hank McCoy at a science conference in New York City. You had graduated a mere few weeks ago and were out trying to network when you met him.

After that, Hank took you to meet Charles Xavier and he offered you a two-sided job, teach a few classes and be part of the X-Men, after you went through some training. You didn’t know how to fight at the beginning, but now you think you’ve got the hang of it.

You had just finished teaching your advanced physics class, standing at your desk gathering up the papers before going to your office to grade them, when someone knocked on the open classroom door.

Logan stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, with that usual smirk tugging at his lips. “You done for the day, sweetheart?”

You looked up from the pile of papers, surprised to see him there, though you probably shouldn’t have been. Logan had this way of showing up whenever you least expected it, always with some sort of pet name that left your students giggling.

When you first arrived at the school and started your training, it was Logan and Ororo who helped you learn how to fight. You certainly were not on a level like Logan, but you now knew how to hold your own without completely relying on your powers.

Logan was probably the one you were closest to at the mansion, save for Ororo and Jean. You enjoyed his company, even in the late nights when you would tend to the plants and he would stand quietly nearby smoking a cigar.

“Just about,” you replied, straightening the stack. “I was going to head to my office and grade these. Why? You need something?”

Logan pushed himself off the doorframe and sauntered toward you, his boots thudding lightly against the floor. “Can’t a guy just drop by and check in on ya?”

You rolled your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “I guess, but somehow I doubt you’re just here to ‘check in.’” You shuffled the papers into a neat stack, slipping them into a folder. “So, what’s up?”

Logan shrugged, hands now in his jacket pockets as he stood a few feet away from your desk. “You’ve been buried in books and papers all week. Thought you could use a break.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be done grading these in like an hour. It doesn’t take me long. Unlike someone else.”

Logan snorted, a small smile forming as he tilted his head at you. "Yeah, well, not all of us have two fancy PhDs and can finish things in a blink, darlin’."

You laughed softly, putting the papers into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “You’re just mad because I keep proving I’m right.” You rounded your desk, smirking. “Plus, I’m having a movie night with Jean and Ororo. See? I can take breaks.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile as he leaned in just a little, casting you that knowing look he always had when he was teasing you. “Movie night, huh? Lemme guess—something boring and science-y?”

You scoffed, shaking your head as you zipped up your bag. “Not every movie night is a science documentary, Logan.”

“Mmhmm,” he replied, the teasing drawl in his voice making it clear he didn’t believe you for a second. “So, what are you watchin’, then? Some quantum physics thriller?”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “It’s The Princess Diaries this time, actually. But I do like documentaries, so don’t knock them.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and deep, and for a moment it made you forget the pile of grading still waiting for you. “I’ll let it slide this time, darlin’. But if I hear you talkin’ about how accurate the physics are in some movie during your ‘break,’ I’m dragging you out of that mansion myself.”

You gave him a mock-serious look. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would,” he shot back, his smirk widening. “And we both know I could.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t wrong. Logan had a way of just picking you up—literally—and dragging you away when he thought you’d been working too hard. Sometimes you suspected he enjoyed it a little too much.

Before you could retort, Logan's expression softened slightly. “Look, Y/N, I’m serious. You’ve been bustin’ your ass all week. Go take a real break tonight, will ya?”

There it was again. That rare softness he showed only to you, like the tough exterior melted away for just a second. You never really knew how to respond when he got like that, so you shrugged casually and smiled. “I’ll take it easy tonight. Promise.”

“Good,” he said, his voice gruff but warm. “’Cause I don’t wanna hear about you passin’ out from exhaustion or whatever it is geniuses do when they work themselves to death.”

You walked to the door and turned back to face him, “Einstein slept 10 hours during the night and took regular naps.” You gave him a wink and walked down the hall towards your office, a satisfied smirk on your face.

Logan watched you disappear down the hallway, shaking his head with a faint smile. He wasn't sure when it started, but something about your energy, the way you threw yourself into everything—whether it was the students, your research, or even the X-Men's missions—had caught his attention. And now, it was hard to get you out of his head, let alone his senses.

He could always tell when you were nearby or recently in an area—your perfume was inherently you, mango with an undercurrent of something woodsy. And you always looked cute, a word Logan thought he’d never use. You constantly wore colors, usually pastels in varying shades, whether it be a shirt, your shoes, or even accessories in your hair. It was almost ridiculous how someone with two PhDs and the kind of brain that could out-think just about everyone around her could be so oblivious to certain things.

And that was why he found you so fascinating.

You were brilliant, no doubt about it—always talking about equations, theories, and whatever else you’d been reading about. But somehow, you never seemed to notice when he was flirting with you, which had become Logan's new favorite game. He knew exactly what he was doing when he called you varying nicknames.

It wasn’t like it was a secret either; pretty much everyone at the mansion had picked up on it. Hell, even the students were in on it, giggling whenever Logan tossed a pet name your way or gave you one of those half-smirks that drove everyone else insane.

Everyone except you, apparently.

You walked down the hall, completely unaware of the looks you were getting, or the fact that Logan’s eyes lingered a bit longer than they should have as you disappeared around the corner. Shaking his head, he let out a low chuckle before heading toward the garage. Maybe a ride on his bike would clear his head, though it probably wouldn’t. You had a way of sticking in his mind, even when you weren’t around.

---

Later that night, you were sprawled on the couch in one of the common rooms, sandwiched between Jean and Ororo as the three of you laughed at the antics on screen. The Princess Diaries was playing, and though you’d seen it a dozen times, it never failed to make you laugh.

You had your hair tied up and off your neck, and you were dressed in one of your usual casual outfits—leggings and an oversized hoodie that probably belonged to one of the guys in the mansion, though you couldn’t remember who. Logan’s scent faintly lingered on it, but you didn't think much of it.

You shifted comfortably, pulling your legs up to curl under you as Jean and Ororo sat on either side, each of you clutching bowls of popcorn and laughing at the antics in The Princess Diaries.

“I still don’t get how a movie about a teenager becoming a princess is this funny,” Jean said, shaking her head as she stuffed another handful of popcorn into her mouth. “Like, shouldn’t it be cheesy?”

“It is cheesy,” you countered, laughing as Mia slipped and fell in the movie. “But it’s good cheesy. There’s a difference.”

Ororo chuckled, glancing at you with an amused smile. “You’ve seen this how many times now?”

“Don’t judge me,” you teased, tossing a piece of popcorn in her direction, which she easily swatted away with a smirk. “This is a classic.”

Jean raised an eyebrow, giving you a playful nudge. “More classic than, say, 2001: A Space Odyssey? That seems more your speed.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Not every movie I watch has to be some cerebral masterpiece, Jean.”

Ororo smiled knowingly. “Mmm, true, but you’re always spouting off facts about space or physics during random moments in these movies.”

“That’s because science is everywhere!” you replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You can’t not notice when something’s wrong.”

Jean grinned. “Like that time you paused Star Wars just to give us a lecture on how light speed doesn’t work like that?”

You huffed a laugh. “Well, it doesn’t. It’s all—”

“Science, we know,” Ororo finished, sharing a look with Jean that made you roll your eyes again.

“Okay, okay,” you conceded, holding up your hands. “I’ll try not to nerd out tonight.”

“That’s all we ask,” Jean said, smirking as she leaned back on the couch, throwing a kernel of popcorn into her mouth.

For the next hour or so, the three of you watched the movie without incident, though you had to bite your tongue more than once. A promise was a promise, after all.

When the movie ended, Ororo stretched and got up from the couch. “Alright, I’m heading to bed. I’ve got an early class tomorrow.”

“Same,” Jean said, standing and offering you a soft smile.

“Guess I’ll get ready for bed too, then.” You replied. Each of you headed to your rooms, Jean shared one with Scott down the hall from you, and Ororo’s room was close by theirs.

Your room was full of plants, small vines on the walls and windowsills, along with potted flowers across the room. It had been habit ever since you learned about your powers to always be surrounded by them, it gave you a sense of peace.

Taking off your clothes you got into the shower, where more plants were, including a rhaphidophora tetrasperma and a maidenhair fern.

You smiled to yourself, relishing the small oasis you’d created in your bathroom. The plants thrived in here, the humidity of your showers mimicking their natural habitat. It was a simple pleasure to see something flourish under your care, which was probably why you always surrounded yourself with greenery.

You rinsed off, the water now lukewarm as it cascaded over you, and turned the shower off. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you stepped out, the cool air hitting your skin as you moved toward the mirror. You wiped a hand across the fogged glass, revealing your reflection. You took off your shower cap, letting your hair free from its constraints.

There was a faint knock at your door, and you glanced toward it, frowning. Who would be knocking at this hour?

“Y/N?” Logan’s voice came from the other side. “You still awake?”

Your eyes widened slightly. What was Logan doing here? You quickly pulled on some comfortable clothes—an oversized t-shirt and shorts—before cracking the door open to find Logan leaning against the frame, his usual smirk in place.

“Logan? It’s kind of late. What’s up?” you asked, holding the door open just enough for him to see you but not enough to fully invite him in.

He shrugged, his eyes briefly scanning you before locking on yours. “Came by to see if you wanted to take a walk. Figured you might still be awake.”

You blinked, taken aback. “A walk? Now?”

“Yeah,” he replied casually, as if asking you to go for a walk at nearly midnight was the most normal thing in the world. “You’re always sayin’ how you like the way the plants look at night. Thought maybe you’d want some fresh air.”

You hesitated for a moment, considering his offer. You had planned on heading to bed soon, but you couldn’t deny the appeal of a nighttime walk—especially with Logan. The mansion grounds were peaceful at this hour, and the idea of walking among the moonlit flowers sounded tempting.

“Alright,” you said, pushing the door open the rest of the way. “Let me put on some shoes.”

Logan nodded, leaning back against the doorframe as he waited, his arms crossing over his chest. You slipped on a pair of sneakers, quickly tying the laces.

“Ready,” you said, adjusting your shirt and stepping out into the hallway.

Logan pushed off the frame and started walking beside you, his steps easy and casual. The mansion was quiet, most of the students already asleep, and you could hear the soft hum of night settling in as you both made your way outside. The cool air greeted you as you stepped into the garden, and you couldn’t help but smile as the scent of flowers and earth filled your senses.

“So,” Logan said after a moment, his hands sliding into his jacket pockets, “how was the movie?”

You smiled, glancing at him. “It was good. A classic, really.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Jean and Ororo didn’t give you a hard time?”

You chuckled. “Well, they did try to poke fun at my love for science, but nothing too bad. It was all in good fun.”

Logan smirked. “Yeah, they like to tease. Just means they’re comfortable around ya.”

You gave a small nod, your gaze shifting to the moonlit flowers around you. You loved the way the plants seemed to glow in the night, the way everything felt so peaceful at this hour. It was one of the reasons you often came out here at night when the mansion was quiet and still.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the soft sounds of nature surrounding you. Logan didn’t say much, but that was one of the things you liked about him—he didn’t need to fill the air with pointless conversation. He was just… there, steady and solid, like the trees you so loved to be around.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, taking in his relaxed posture, the way his jacket hung off his broad shoulders, and the ever-present smirk tugging at his lips. You wondered briefly what he thought of these walks. He always seemed to show up at the right moments, offering his company when you needed it most, even if you didn’t realize you needed it at the time.

“So, Logan,” you started, your voice casual as you glanced at a cluster of moonlit lilies, “what’s the real reason you wanted to walk tonight? I know you didn’t just suddenly decide to take in the scenery.”

He chuckled, low and deep, as he shifted his gaze to the path ahead. “Maybe I like the scenery more than I let on.”

“Right,” you teased, arching an eyebrow. “Because I’ve definitely seen you out here admiring the roses before.”

“Who says I’m talkin’ about the roses, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes, though a faint smile played at your lips. “Uh-huh. Keep dreaming, Logan.”

There was that playful glint in his eyes again, the one you’d grown used to but never quite understood. He always had this way of teasing you—soft, subtle comments that seemed to amuse him more than anything else. It wasn’t like you minded, though. You liked the banter, even if you never quite knew why he seemed to engage in it with you so much.

You gave him a sidelong glance, but Logan’s expression remained as it usually did—a little cocky, a little mysterious, his hands resting casually in his jacket pockets as he walked alongside you. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the path, and you found your gaze drifting back to the flowers blooming in the gardens. The peace of the night wrapped around you like a soft blanket, and for a moment, you almost forgot Logan was there.

“Y’know,” Logan said after a stretch of silence, his voice low and lazy, “you really are a mystery, sweetheart.”

You blinked, turning to him with a slight frown. “What do you mean by that?”

Logan shrugged, his eyes briefly flicking to yours before looking ahead again. “You’re this genius, right? Got two PhDs, can out-think just about anyone in the room. But sometimes… you’re completely clueless.”

You scoffed, giving him an incredulous look. “Clueless? Me? I don’t think that’s possible.”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and he shook his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that teasing smile. “Yeah, darlin’. Clueless. You know a hell of a lot about a lot of things, but when it comes to readin’ people? Not so much.”

Your frown deepened. “I think I read people just fine, Logan.”

He stopped walking then, turning to face you with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Oh, do ya?”

“Yeah,” you insisted, crossing your arms over your chest. “I spend a lot of time around people. I know how to pick up on things.”

Logan’s smile widened, like he was holding back laughter. “Is that so?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, confused by the sudden shift in conversation. “Yes, that’s so. What are you getting at?”

Logan’s grin widened as he saw you narrow your eyes, your arms crossed in clear frustration. There was something about how easily he could rile you up, how your normally sharp mind would stumble whenever he teased you, that made him enjoy these moments even more.

“You’re dodging the question,” you pressed, sensing that his silence was deliberate. “What are you getting at?”

Logan shrugged nonchalantly, leaning against the nearest tree, his usual smirk in place. “I’m just sayin’, for someone who’s supposed to be a genius, you don’t always see what’s right in front of you.”

You let out a huff, clearly not satisfied with his answer. “I see everything just fine, Logan. You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

“Subtle, huh?” Logan echoed, his grin softening into a more thoughtful expression. “Maybe I’m not. Or maybe you’re just a little too focused on the wrong things.”

You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but as usual, Logan didn’t offer anything more. He simply stood there, his eyes watching you carefully, as if enjoying the little mystery he’d planted in your mind. You could practically see the amusement dancing behind his gaze.

“This is just another one of your games, isn’t it?” you muttered, though there was no real bite in your tone. “You like keeping me guessing.”

“Maybe,” he said with a wink. “Keeps things interestin’, don’t ya think?”

You rolled your eyes again, turning away from him as you started walking down the path. You weren’t going to let him keep you on edge like this. You had better things to think about than whatever half-assed answer Logan was playing at tonight.

Logan fell into step beside you, his hands tucked back into his pockets. The two of you walked in silence for a bit longer, and despite the earlier tension, you found yourself relaxing once more. The garden was quiet, the night cool and calm. Logan’s presence, as always, was steady beside you, even if he did like to mess with your head sometimes.

“You know,” you began after a while, your voice softer now, “just because I’m a genius doesn’t mean I’m completely oblivious to people. I do pick up on things.”

Logan shot you a sideways glance, that infuriating smirk back on his face. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”

“I’m serious!” you insisted, though a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “I just… maybe I’m not as concerned with people’s motives as much as I am with facts and data. It’s different.”

Logan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s part of the problem, doll. You think you can figure out everything like it’s a puzzle. But people? We’re a little more complicated than that.”

You tilted your head, thinking about that. “I don’t see why it has to be complicated. People say what they mean, don’t they?”

Logan paused for a moment, his smirk turning into something more thoughtful. “Not always.”

There was a heaviness in his voice that made you glance up at him, but before you could ask what he meant, he turned his head away, eyes focused on something in the distance. The moment passed, and Logan was back to his usual self, his grin in place as if nothing had happened.

“Anyway,” he said, changing the subject, “how’s your latest project goin’? Still messing with those gadgets?”

You sighed, the shift in conversation allowing you to relax again. “Yeah, still working on a few prototypes. Hank’s been helping me out with some of the materials, but we’re having trouble stabilizing the energy output.”

Logan nodded, listening with genuine interest. “Sounds like somethin’ you’ll figure out soon enough.”

“I hope so,” you said with a small smile. “But it’s been a little frustrating.”

“Not used to runnin’ into roadblocks, huh?” Logan teased.

“Not really,” you admitted, a touch of sheepishness in your tone. “I’m used to things coming together quickly once I have all the information. This one’s been… tricky.”

Logan gave a low hum of understanding. “That’s the thing about science, sweetheart. It ain’t always predictable.”

“Yeah, but I like predictability,” you said with a shrug. “It makes sense. People, on the other hand…”

Logan laughed at that, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

The two of you continued your walk, the conversation drifting to lighter topics—projects, students at the mansion, the occasional prank pulled by one of the younger mutants. You liked how easy it was to talk to Logan, even when he teased you or left you hanging on a thought. He was always there, listening, offering his dry commentary when it was needed.

As you walked, you found yourself glancing at him every now and then, taking in the way the moonlight caught his features, the rough stubble on his jaw, the confident way he carried himself. You didn’t understand why he spent so much time around you, especially when he had no trouble being alone or doing his own thing. Logan didn’t seem like the type to go out of his way for someone, and yet… here he was.

“Logan?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Yeah?” he replied, his gaze shifting to you.

“Why do you do this?”

He frowned, genuinely confused. “Do what?”

“Walk with me. Spend time with me. You’re not exactly the most sociable guy around here.”

Logan gave a low chuckle, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Maybe I like your company, sweetheart. Ever think of that?”

You blinked, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. It wasn’t like Logan to be so direct about… feelings. You weren’t sure how to respond, so you simply looked away, feeling a slight warmth creeping up your cheeks.

“I guess I never really thought about it,” you admitted after a moment.

Logan’s smirk returned, but there was something softer behind it this time. “That’s ‘cause you’re too busy thinkin’ about everythin’ else, doll.”

You didn’t respond right away, still processing his words. Logan wasn’t one to lay things out so plainly, but when he did, it always seemed to catch you off guard. He had this way of making you question things—yourself, your understanding of the world—without ever really giving you any answers. It was frustrating, but at the same time, it was… endearing.

As the two of you walked back toward the mansion, the quiet settling over you once more, you couldn’t help but wonder what Logan had meant earlier. About you being ‘clueless.’ It wasn’t like you didn’t notice things—sure, people had their layers, but you weren’t blind to them. So what was he talking about?

---

The next morning, you were back in your usual routine—teaching classes, working in the greenhouse, and helping the students with their studies. It was a busy day, but you didn’t mind. The students were eager to learn, and you found a sense of satisfaction in watching them grow and develop their skills.

After your last class, you made your way to the greenhouse, your favorite part of the day. The students had already watered the plants earlier, so you spent some time pruning and checking on the growth of the flowers and vegetables.

The sound of footsteps approaching caught your attention, and you turned to see Logan leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, glancing up from the plant you were tending to.

Logan shrugged. “Figured I’d stop by. See how you’re doin’.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “You checking up on me again?”

He chuckled. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on ya, sweetheart.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you turned back to your plants. “I’m fine, Logan. Really.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, his voice closer now. You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing just a few feet away, watching you with that same unreadable expression he always seemed to have around you. “But it doesn’t hurt to check in every now and then.”

Logan looked over at a large strawberry plant in the corner, it seemed to have a lot of yield, bright red strawberries hanging from the branches.

“You ever try a strawberry with no pesticides?” You asked, standing up from the ground and taking off your gloves. You looked around the plant before pulling what you thought looked to be the best of the bunch, holding it out for him. Since it was August, the strawberries were soon going to go out of season, so this was the last good batch you were going to get.

Logan raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly as he eyed the fruit in your hand. "I’ve had my share of wild strawberries, sweetheart, but never from your garden.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer to him with the strawberry still outstretched. “Wild strawberries? Really, Logan? This is organic, homegrown perfection. Totally different experience.”

He chuckled, finally taking the strawberry from you, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief second. It was so brief you didn’t think much of it, but Logan’s smirk softened into something more genuine as he popped the strawberry into his mouth.

“Well?” you asked, watching him expectantly. “What do you think?”

Logan chewed slowly, his eyes not leaving yours. “Sweet,” he finally said, his voice low. “Real sweet.”

You smiled, pleased with his answer, though you didn’t quite catch the way his gaze lingered on you as he said it. “Told you,” you said, turning back to the plant to grab a strawberry for yourself. “Fresh strawberries are unbeatable.”

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you take a bite. “You take real pride in this, don’t ya?”

“Of course,” you said, glancing at him between bites. “There’s something rewarding about growing things. Watching them thrive under the right conditions. It’s like… I don’t know, creating life.”

Logan’s eyes softened as he listened to you talk, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. “You care a lot about the little det- ” He was cut off by surprise, your thumb brushing the corner of his lips wiping off some of the strawberry juice.

You seemed to not think much about it, nor did you notice Logan’s heart sped up with your simple touch. It was over quick, you let out a soft gasp and walked behind him, looking up at a vine at the top where you saw a few ripe kiwis.

You reached your palm out, focusing your energy on the vines at the top of the greenhouse. They shifted gently, as if responding to your silent command, dropping three ripe kiwis into your hand. You grinned, knowing Jean would appreciate the fresh fruit later. It wasn’t easy growing kiwis in New York, but your powers made up for the climate’s shortcomings. Nature seemed to bend to your will, a fact you took quiet pride in, even though you’d never flaunt it.

Meanwhile, Logan was still in slight shock from your gesture, he could almost feel the spot where your thumb brushed against him, almost as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And you did it without thinking, in fact, you still didn’t seem to notice him looking at your back as you picked a few bunches of basil.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t just the way you talked about plants or how your hands moved with skill and grace—it was you, completely unaware of how you affected him. Completely unaware that his heart rate had spiked at the smallest, most innocent touch.

“Something wrong?” you asked, not even turning around as you picked at the herbs.

Logan blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts. “Nah, just... thinkin’. You’re somethin’, you know that?”

You gave a short laugh, pausing to glance back at him over your shoulder. “If that’s your way of saying I’m a genius again, I already know.”

He chuckled, moving to stand a bit closer. “That’s not exactly what I meant, sweetheart.” His voice was low, with that familiar gravelly tone he used when teasing you.

But as usual, the hint flew right past you. “Well, whatever it is, I’ll take it as a compliment.” You plucked another handful of basil leaves, slipping them into a small basket on the bench. “And you should try to be more specific next time, Logan. It helps with communication.”

“Specific, huh?” Logan leaned a little against the workbench beside you, arms crossed. “Alright then, you’re smart, sure. But there’s more to it than that. You... you just do things without even thinking about it. Like earlier.” His eyes flickered briefly to your hand.

You frowned a little, confused. “Earlier? You mean the strawberry thing? Or when I wiped the juice off your face?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “That.”

You blinked, not understanding why he was making such a big deal of it. “Logan, it was just strawberry juice. You looked like you were about to walk into a meeting with half a fruit smeared on your face.”

Logan let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, doll. I get that.” He watched as you turned back to your plants, completely oblivious to the fact that what had been a small, thoughtless gesture for you had stirred something deeper for him. He found it both amusing and frustrating—not in an annoying way, but in a way that made him want to get closer to you, to push the boundaries just a little more.

“So,” you said, shifting the subject as you snipped a bit more basil. “What’s got you wandering into the greenhouse today? It’s not exactly your usual haunt.”

Logan leaned back, watching you with those intense eyes of his. “Just felt like stoppin’ by. Spend some time with you. Ain’t that a good enough reason?”

You rolled your eyes, though your smile was genuine. “I suppose. It’s just... you don’t usually care about plants and stuff.”

“Well, maybe I’m changin’,” Logan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You shook your head, laughing softly. “I’ll believe that when I see it.” You paused, glancing at him as you picked up a watering can. “So... you wanna help?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Me? Helpin’ with your garden?”

“Why not?” you asked, stepping closer to him. “You’ve got hands, don’t you? It’s not all that complicated.”

He chuckled, reaching out to take the watering can from you, brushing his fingers against yours for a second time. “Alright, sweetheart, show me how it’s done.”

You handed him the can and pointed to a row of lavender plants nearby. “Just give them a little water. Not too much though—they don’t like it when their roots get too wet.”

Logan followed your instructions with a kind of amused curiosity, watching as the water trickled from the can onto the plants. It wasn’t the kind of thing he normally found himself doing, but there was something about the simplicity of it, something about you, that made it... well, not so bad.

“You really know your stuff, don’t ya?” Logan remarked after a few moments, his voice carrying a hint of admiration.

“Well, yeah,” you said, turning to grab some tools from a nearby shelf. “I’ve been doing this for a while. Plus, it’s kind of in my wheelhouse, you know? With the whole ‘controlling nature’ thing.”

Logan smirked, setting the watering can down as he leaned against the bench again. “Yeah, I’ve seen you do some pretty wild things with those powers of yours. But you don’t talk about ‘em much.”

“I talk to them.” You said, hiding a grin from growing on your face.

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

You laughed as you stood up, throwing a few weeds in a separate basket. “No. I was joking!”

Logan let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head at you. “You got me there, sweetheart,” he said, still leaning against the bench, watching you with that ever-present smirk on his face.

You grabbed a nearby hose, turning the water on low to rinse your hands. "Can't believe you thought I was serious. I mean, I get along with plants, but I don’t have full-on conversations with them. That’d be weird."

"Wouldn't surprise me with you, doll," Logan replied, still watching you intently. "You seem to know what everything around here needs, even without talkin' to 'em."

You shrugged, drying your hands on a towel. "It’s just intuition, I guess. Plants give off signals if you know how to read them."

Logan gave you a long look, his smirk softening into something almost affectionate, though you didn’t notice. "You sure it's just the plants you read that well?"

You looked up at him, confused for a second, but quickly shook your head, dismissing his comment. "Are you gonna keep talking, or are you actually going to help me?”

Logan pushed himself off the bench, standing up straight. "Alright, alright. Where do you want me, doll?"

You handed him the basket full of weeds, “throw them out.”

He raised an eyebrow, “that’s it?”

You handed Logan the basket of weeds, his hand brushing against yours for the third time today. He smirked slightly, but you, as usual, were completely unaware of the subtle tension.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed in response to his earlier question, balancing two baskets filled with freshly picked fruits, vegetables, and herbs in your arms. “I’m gonna lock up and bring these inside.”

Logan didn’t move for a second, watching as you turned your back and headed toward the door, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the greenhouse. For someone so sharp, so brilliant, you seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he enjoyed these little moments with you.

That small, unspoken connection you two had—the one where you never quite seemed to notice that he was flirting with you—had started to become his favorite part of the day. Even if it had been going on for 8 months, and yes, he was counting.

As you reached for the lock on the greenhouse door, you glanced over your shoulder. “You’re still standing there, Logan. Are you gonna help or just watch me carry all this stuff by myself?”

Logan’s smirk widened. “Oh, I was just enjoyin' the view, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, missing the deeper meaning in his words, as usual. “Right. Well, the view can help me with these baskets if it’s not too busy.”

Logan chuckled softly, walking over to you and easily taking one of the baskets from your hands. “You got it, doll. I’ll lend a hand.”

Together, you made your way toward the mansion, the quiet of the late afternoon settling around you. It was peaceful, in that way you liked—just the sound of your footsteps on the gravel path, the faint rustle of leaves in the distance, and the low hum of the cicadas in the trees. Logan had quickly thrown away the weeds and rejoined you, taking the other basket out of your hand, saying something about how he was ‘being a gentleman.’

You both entered the mansion from the back door, making your way to the kitchen where Logan placed the baskets on the island. Jean and Scott were already in there, Jean making her way over to the two baskets.

You, having an inkling for what she was looking for, reached into one of the baskets and pulled out the 3 kiwis. You handed the kiwis over to Jean, a smile playing on your lips as she quickly clutched them to her chest, almost like they were gold. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this, and it always amused you. Scott, of course, tried to intervene, reaching out to snatch one, but Jean shot him a look that was part-serious, part-playful.

“Hey, those are for me,” she said, moving slightly to block Scott’s hand. “I’ve been waiting for these kiwis all week.”

Scott smirked but backed off, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side, babe.”

Jean gave him a victorious smile, then turned to you. “Thanks, Y/N. You always come through with the best fruit.”

“Of course,” you replied, wiping your hands on a nearby towel. “You’ve been asking for kiwis since the season started, so I figured it was about time I delivered.”

Logan, still standing nearby, watched the interaction with a subtle smirk on his face. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, looking completely relaxed but attentive.

“You sure know how to make people happy, doll,” Logan said, his voice low but teasing. “Always goin’ above and beyond for everyone.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal. “It’s just a few kiwis, Logan. Nothing special.”

Jean, now satisfied with her prized fruit, glanced between the two of you with a curious look, sensing something in Logan’s tone. She had noticed the way he’d been hanging around you more than usual lately, and it wasn’t hard to pick up on the little glances he threw your way when you weren’t looking. Of course, you remained blissfully unaware of it all, as always.

“You’re selling yourself short,” Jean said, throwing you a grin. “It’s not just the kiwis. You’ve practically turned the greenhouse into a mini-Eden. We all appreciate it, even if Scott can’t admit he’s jealous of my fruit.”

Scott rolled his eyes, but his smile betrayed him. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the garden, Y/N.”

You smiled at the compliment, though it didn’t feel like anything out of the ordinary to you. Taking care of the plants, helping out with the students, it was all part of your routine. You liked it that way—predictable, manageable. You didn’t dwell on the subtleties of interpersonal dynamics the way others seemed to.

Logan’s smirk widened slightly at Jean’s comment, but he kept quiet, watching you interact with the others. There was something about the way you brushed off compliments so easily, like you didn’t quite grasp how much people appreciated you around here.

You had already put a few strawberries in a glass bowl, making your way out of the kitchen to Ororo’s office without saying a word, something they were already used to.

“You sure you’re not going to say anything? You know, that’s actually straight to the point?” Jean asked Logan.

Scott reached into one of the baskets, pulling out a few blueberries, “at this point, you’re like a love-sick puppy following her around.”

Logan let out a low growl, plucking a strawberry out from the basket. “Keep talking dickhead.” He threatened.

Jean raised an eyebrow as she leaned against the counter, her sharp eyes flicking between Logan and Scott. "He’s not wrong though, Logan. You’ve been spending more time with Y/N than usual. We’ve all noticed."

Logan grunted, pushing himself off the counter and crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "She’s a good kid. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on her."

Scott smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Right, keepin' an eye on her. That's what we’re calling it now?"

Jean shot Scott a playful glare, but her attention quickly shifted back to Logan. “You know, you could just tell her how you feel. She’s oblivious, but she’s not stupid. Sooner or later, she’s going to notice.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he glanced toward the door where you had just left. His emotions were complicated—he’d never been one for opening up, and the idea of confessing anything, especially something as vulnerable as his feelings for you, wasn’t exactly in his comfort zone. He had been through too much, lost too many people, and the thought of letting himself get close to someone again... well, it scared him more than he cared to admit.

“She’s got her own life,” Logan muttered, his voice gruff but softer now. “I ain’t lookin’ to mess that up.”

Jean sighed, walking over to stand next to Logan, her tone gentle but firm. “Logan, you’re not messing anything up. In fact, I think you’d be adding something important to her life. She’s not the type to see you as a burden or a distraction. She probably wouldn’t even realize you were flirting with her until you hit her over the head with it.”

Logan huffed a half-hearted laugh, but the tension in his shoulders remained. “Maybe that’s the problem. She’s too damn focused on other stuff to even see it.”

Jean smiled softly, placing a hand on Logan’s arm. “That’s what makes her so special, Logan. She’s genuine, selfless, and probably the least manipulative person in this mansion. She doesn’t play games—what you see is what you get. And she likes you, even if she doesn’t realize it in the same way you do yet.”

Scott, still lounging in his chair, added, “Plus, you know, if you wait too long, someone else might catch her eye. Just sayin’.”

Logan shot Scott a glare that could have melted steel. “Ain’t nobody else gonna catch her eye, Summers. Trust me on that.”

Jean chuckled softly, giving Logan’s arm a reassuring squeeze before stepping back. “Well, when you’re ready, just remember—it’s okay to take a chance on her. You might be surprised by how things turn out.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, his mind already spinning with conflicting thoughts. He appreciated Jean’s support, but the fear of rejection, of losing someone else important to him, gnawed at his insides. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it again. And what if telling you how he felt ruined the easy, comfortable dynamic you two had? What if he lost the one person in the mansion who treated him like a normal man instead of a gruff, dangerous mutant?

Jean and Scott exchanged a knowing glance, but they let Logan mull over his thoughts in silence. They could push him only so far before it was up to him to take the next step.

---

You were walking down the halls with your bag in over your shoulder, all you needed to do was get to your office and take these heels off.

They looked cute online, not too tall or high, had some cushion on the soles, but wearing them was a completely different story. Which was sad because they were a cute baby pink which went well with your button up baby pink cardigan and white jeans.

But your office seemed so far away with the stabbing pain in your feet, luckily the halls were empty since most of the students were in their rooms doing homework or relaxing before dinner.

Having enough of the pain, you crouched down to unbuckle your heels, your bag moving down your shoulder to your elbow.

“Need any help, princess?”

You looked up at the sound of the voice, even though you knew exactly who it was.

Logan stood there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His eyes flicked down to your shoes before meeting your gaze again, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Need any help, princess?” His voice was low and casual, but that nickname—'princess’—it was just one of the many he’d taken to using when he spoke to you. Although you hadn’t heard this one before.

You shifted your bag back up on your shoulder and continued unbuckling the second heel. “I’ve got it, thanks,” you replied, not thinking too much of his presence. You’d known Logan long enough to realize he had a habit of showing up when you least expected him to.

He made a small grunt, as if to say ‘suit yourself,’ and watched as you continued to try and unbuckle the second one, but it looked like the strap was giving you a hard time.

Logan kneeled down in front of you without a word as you moved your hands away. You were smart enough to know that you weren’t exactly in the best position to unbuckle your heels, you usually did it when you were sitting down, not crouching in the middle of a hallway.

He easily unbuckled it and helped you slip out of the heels, your feet hitting the cool floor. You mumbled a thanks as his hand trailed up your calf with a feather light touch before standing up. Your heels were in one of his hands as he easily picked you up with one arm, carrying you bridal style.

You let out a small shriek of surprise, your arms instinctively going around Logan’s neck as he scooped you up with one arm, heels dangling from his other hand.

"Hey! I can walk!" you protested, more flustered than anything else. You were completely capable of walking, sore feet or not, but now you were cradled in Logan’s arms like a princess in some old fairy tale.

Logan's smirk widened, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Not fast enough, sweetheart," he teased, carrying you effortlessly down the hall. His voice was deep, a hint of amusement in his tone, and it made your cheeks heat up slightly, though you quickly tried to brush it off.

You rolled your eyes, not really sure how to argue back. "I’m pretty sure this is unnecessary," you muttered, though your voice didn’t sound all that convincing even to you.

"Necessary or not, you're gonna let me carry you," he shot back, glancing down at you with a playful gleam in his eye. "Besides, I don’t mind."

You huffed in mock defiance, but you didn’t exactly push him to put you down either. In fact, being carried by Logan felt…nice. Comfortable, even. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud. And it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d done this.

As the two of you continued down the hallway, you couldn’t help but notice the way his grip was firm but gentle, his arms strong and steady. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen how built he was, but somehow, it always seemed to surprise you.

"You know, this could’ve been avoided if I’d just worn normal shoes," you grumbled, trying to distract yourself from the way your heart was beating a little too fast.

Logan chuckled softly, that gravelly sound that always seemed to resonate in your chest. "Doll, I’ve seen you rock combat boots and still look like you’re ready for a photoshoot. But those heels…" He raised an eyebrow at the pink shoes still in his hand. "Yeah, maybe not your best choice."

You frowned slightly, glancing at the heels. "They looked good online…"

He grinned, amused. "You got catfished by shoes?"

"I didn’t get catfished!" you retorted, though you couldn’t help but laugh. "They’re cute! Just not comfortable."

Logan made a noncommittal sound, clearly not convinced by your argument. But he didn’t press it further, instead shifting you slightly in his arms as he approached your office door.

"Want me to break down the door for you, too, princess? Or can you manage the key?" he asked with a teasing glint in his eyes, looking down at you like you were some helpless damsel.

"I’ve got it," you replied quickly, reaching into your bag for your keys. "And stop calling me princess." The nickname felt weird, it made your heart beat faster and you skin flush more than the other nicknames he called you.

But Logan just smirked, clearly unbothered. "Sure thing, sweetheart."

You couldn’t stop the little sigh that escaped you as you unlocked the door and pushed it open. Logan stepped inside, gently setting you down on your feet.

As soon as you were standing, you felt the cool air against your now bare feet, and it was an instant relief from the torture those heels had put you through. You moved to put your heels down by your desk, but Logan still had them in his hand.

"You know I can take those now," you said, holding out your hand expectantly.

Logan eyed the heels for a moment, then handed them over. "You really should burn 'em, doll," he said in that same teasing tone, watching you place them on the floor.

"I’m not burning them," you replied, shaking your head. "They’re not that bad. I just…need to break them in."

Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe now, watching you with that amused smirk still playing on his lips. "Or you could just stick to boots."

"Maybe I like being fashionable sometimes," you shot back, raising an eyebrow at him as you plopped down into your office chair. Your fingers brushed your hair back from your face, and you let out a small, satisfied sigh now that you were sitting down.

"Fashionable, sure," Logan said, his voice a low rumble. "But at what cost?"

You shot him a look but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It was hard to stay annoyed when Logan was like this—playful, relaxed, his rough edges softened just enough to make you feel like he actually cared.

"Anyway, shouldn’t you be out doing something more...Logan-like?" you asked, leaning back in your chair, arms crossing over your chest.

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"I don't know, brooding? Scowling at someone?"

His lips twitched, clearly suppressing a smirk. "Maybe I’m just waiting for you to ask me to carry you again."

You rolled your eyes, fighting the warmth creeping into your cheeks. "Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath."

He chuckled, that deep, gravelly sound filling the small office. He didn’t say anything after that, just leaned against the door, arms crossed as he watched you settle in. The silence was comfortable, but it made you hyperaware of him—of the way his presence seemed to take up more space than it should.

You busied yourself with pulling out some notes from your bag, pretending you weren’t fully aware of how Logan’s eyes followed your every movement. It was strange, but also kind of…nice? Logan wasn’t like other guys. He wasn’t intimidated by your intelligence or the fact that you could talk circles around most people in the room. In fact, he seemed to like it, even if he teased you about it sometimes.

"Alright, well, thanks for the…uh, assistance," you said, breaking the silence and giving him a small, awkward smile. "I think I’m good now."

Logan didn’t move right away. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he pushed himself off the doorframe. "Anytime, sweetheart."

And with that, he turned and walked out of your office, leaving you with your thoughts—and the faintest trace of a smirk on your face.

---

Every so often, you would have a baking day to use up some of the fruits efficiently. Some of the students would join you in the large kitchen, doing their best to help you by carefully following your instructions.

Some of them, particularly the older ones, would cut up some of the fruit, like strawberries, apples, and peaches. The others would measure the ingredients and put them in a mixing bowl before combining it all together to make a dough.

This time, you were striving to make a few blueberry pies, a large dish of peach cobbler, apple strudels, and some strawberry puff pastries.

Baking was something you enjoyed, but never really did in college. You usually were busier with labs and theses rather than cooking or baking. You practically lived off take out and dining hall food. But since you’ve been here for the past year, you’ve already held 4 sessions, including this one.

“Careful with those strawberries,” you said to a student named Ben, who was chopping up the fruit with a little too much enthusiasm. “We need them in slices, not chunks.”

“Sorry, Y/N,” he mumbled, quickly adjusting his technique.

You smiled softly and moved to check on the other group, who were working on the dough for the pies. A girl named Emily was measuring out the flour, carefully following the recipe you’d written down.

"How’s it going over here?" you asked, watching as she sifted the flour into a bowl.

“Good, I think,” Emily said, glancing up at you nervously. “Is this enough?”

You nodded. "Looks perfect. Just remember to mix it slowly so the flour doesn’t go everywhere."

Emily gave you a grateful smile before continuing her work. You loved these baking sessions. It was a great way to bond with the students and also let them explore a more creative side outside of their classes. Plus, it gave you a break from the constant intellectual challenges of your usual work.

Logan wandered into the kitchen a little while later, casually leaning against the doorframe as he watched the controlled chaos. Ororo and Jean were already in the kitchen, watching from the sidelines nursing a glass of a bubbly pink drink.

He couldn’t help but think about how pretty you looked, you were wearing a pastel purple sundress with a light green apron with vines and flowers embroidered on it.

The sight made him smirk—something about you baking in a kitchen full of teenagers, in your floral apron, amused him. It was such a stark contrast to your usual intellectual, no-nonsense attitude.

“Whatcha got cookin’, sweetheart?” Logan’s gruff voice broke the bustling sounds of mixing and chopping.

You didn’t glance up, too focused on guiding Emily through making the pie dough. "Just baking some pies and pastries. Using up the leftover fruit. Do you want some?" you asked casually, not thinking too much about the fact that Logan was watching you.

Logan shrugged, stepping further into the kitchen. “Depends. Is it any good?”

You finally looked up, raising an eyebrow at him. “You doubt my baking skills?”

He chuckled lowly, leaning against the counter now, close enough to see what you were working on. “Wouldn’t call it doubt, doll. Just curious.”

You gave him a small smirk, hands moving skillfully as you finished helping Emily measure the remaining ingredients. "You’ll have to wait until they’re done to find out."

One of the students, Ben, interrupted, grinning as he wiped flour off his hands. "Y/N’s baking is the best! She made these strawberry scones last time—they were gone in like ten minutes."

Logan raised an eyebrow, giving you a teasing glance. "Impressive, princess. Maybe I will stick around."

You rolled your eyes at the nickname but didn’t comment. Instead, you turned back to Emily, helping her roll out the dough. It wasn’t that you didn’t notice Logan's teasing, it was just that you didn’t think much of it. Guys didn’t usually flirt with you. At least not seriously. Most found your intelligence intimidating, or they simply saw you as ‘one of the guys.’ Logan’s pet names, in your mind, were just part of his rough-and-tumble personality, nothing more.

But Logan, on the other hand, found your obliviousness endearing. The fact that you didn’t seem to realize he was flirting with you only made him try harder, though he kept it casual enough not to push you away. He liked the challenge.

“You need any help?” Logan offered, gesturing toward the fruit Ben was chopping haphazardly.

“You’re not gonna burn the kitchen down?” you teased, wiping your hands on your apron before reaching for a bowl.

“I think I can handle it,” Logan said, a grin tugging at his lips.

You handed him a knife, showing him how to properly slice the strawberries. “Here, like this. We need them thin for the pastries.”

You held out the knife for him, and instead of coming up beside you like you assumed he would, he stood behind you, his chest against your back, practically caging you in between him and the counter.

He could hear your heart beat faster as he cut a few slices of the strawberry, asking, "That good enough for you, sweetheart?"

His voice was low, and you could feel his breath near your ear, but you were too focused on the task at hand to fully process the closeness. You glanced at the thinly sliced strawberries, nodding absentmindedly.

"Yeah, that’s perfect," you mumbled, moving slightly away to give yourself more room to breathe, though you didn’t realize why. "Just need a few more for the pastries."

Logan continued slicing, his movements precise, though his presence remained solid and grounding behind you. You were used to people standing close when you worked in the lab or in class—tight spaces, shared equipment, it came with the territory. But this was different. Logan’s proximity felt… intense in a way you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

"So, how long you been doin' this?" Logan asked casually, his voice breaking through your thoughts as he finished up with the strawberries.

You blinked, taking a second to register the question. "Baking? Oh, I don’t know… when I was a kid? I just started because it’s a nice break from… everything I guess.”

Jean and Ororo continued to drink their glass of champagne when Scott walked in, placing an arm around Jean’s waist as they watched the scene. “Think she’ll finally realize,” he asked.

Ororo gave a small grin and shrugged, “who knows? But Logan’s certainly getting bolder.”

Jean shook her head, “I told him to talk to her and say exactly what he was feeling, but turns out he still hasn’t taken my advice.”

Ororo chuckled as she took a slow sip of her drink, her gaze flicking back to the kitchen scene unfolding in front of them. "Well, you know Logan. Subtlety isn’t exactly his strong suit."

Scott smirked as he stood next to Jean, his arm still comfortably draped around her waist. "Yeah, but subtlety doesn’t seem to be the problem here," he said, eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched Logan hover around you. "He’s not exactly hiding it."

Ororo tilted her head, amused by how oblivious you remained despite Logan’s efforts. It wasn’t that you were unobservant; you were incredibly sharp—when it came to science, mechanics, and even battle tactics. But personal matters? Especially the ones involving yourself? Not so much.

"Poor girl," Ororo mused, shaking her head. "She’s a genius, but this…" She waved a hand in Logan’s direction. "This seems to be one thing she’s totally clueless about."

Jean smiled sympathetically. "She’s not used to people flirting with her. I mean, guys either get intimidated by her brain, or they just see her as a fellow intellectual, not… you know, a woman."

Ororo raised an eyebrow, her expression thoughtful. "Well, Logan clearly sees her as a woman. He’s made that much obvious. But I wonder how long it’ll take for her to figure it out."

Jean laughed softly. "At this rate? It might take a while."

The three of them watched with growing curiosity as Logan stood there, his broad shoulders and rough demeanor somehow fitting perfectly in the domestic scene of baking pastries with students. You, on the other hand, were entirely focused on getting the strawberry puff pastries just right, completely unaware of how closely Logan was watching you—or how he lingered longer than necessary when he handed you the knife, or how his teasing nicknames held a deeper meaning.

"She’s too smart for her own good," Scott added, shaking his head with a chuckle. "But when it comes to this, she's got blind spots."

Jean nodded in agreement. "Y/N is convinced she knows everything—and to be fair, she does know a lot—but she’s missing the whole picture here."

---

After Logan’s stunt on baking day, he wondered just how much further he could go. Sure, he could take Jean’s advice and outright tell you, but he also liked seeing you riled up and confused by his words and actions.

Like a few days ago, all he did was pull out your chair at dinner with the rest of the group and you just stood there, confused by the gesture. It took a few moments for you to understand and finally sit down before he pushed the chair closer to the table for you.

Or now, they were having a briefing, or meeting, about God knows what, most of everybody seated. You and Ororo were the last people to come in, aside from Charles. Ororo went to sit down at an open seat and as you looked around you came to the conclusion that there weren’t any other chairs available.

You were content with the fact that you were going to stand for the short meeting, as you found a spot to stand at the opposite end of the large round table, close to Logan.

“C’mere doll.” Logan said, lazily gesturing for you to come closer.

You hesitantly did, stopping next to his chair, your knee brushing his thigh. “What?”

He patted his thigh, “I don’t bite.”

Your eyes widened, a cute, innocent expression that he enjoyed seeing on your face, as you looked around the room. “I, uh- ”

Logan’s smirk widened, clearly finding your hesitation endearing. He patted his lap again, his eyes glinting with a teasing light. “C’mon, doll. Don’t be shy. There’s a perfectly good seat right here.”

You hesitated, your brain racing to process the situation. It wasn’t exactly appropriate for a professional setting, but you were running out of options. The only other seats were either taken or a bit too far from the discussion table. With a small sigh, you decided to give in. You didn’t want to stand for the entire meeting, and it was just one of those moments where you had to roll with it.

“Alright,” you said. You shot a glance around the room, but most people were already absorbed in their conversations or taking notes. You gingerly sat down on the edge of his lap, trying to maintain a sense of propriety despite the awkwardness of the situation.

Logan’s arm naturally wrapped around your waist to stabilize you, but he didn’t say anything as you settled. You could feel his warmth radiating through his leather jacket, and it was strangely comforting despite the unusual circumstances. He leaned in slightly, his breath tickling your ear as he whispered, “You alright there, sweetheart?”

You nodded, trying to focus on the meeting but acutely aware of how close he was. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, though you could feel your cheeks warming slightly. “Just trying to get comfortable.”

Logan chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through his chest and making you shift just a bit closer. His hand rested lightly on your hip, not too firm but enough to make you acutely aware of his presence. You tried to ignore it and concentrate on the meeting, but his proximity made that task rather difficult.

The meeting continued, with Charles and the others discussing various topics related to ongoing projects and missions. Logan’s hand on your hip was a constant reminder of his presence, but he remained quiet, only chiming in occasionally with his usual gruff comments or suggestions.

---

At breakfast one day, you were sitting with Hank talking about the project you two were working on that was finally getting somewhere. You had finally been able to stabilize the energy output and now you two were talking about what to do next.

Logan sipped his coffee, looking at your from afar. As always, you were dressed cute today. You were wearing a light blue sweater with a pair of your skinny jeans and white flats, paired with matching drop earrings.

Ororo and Jean came up beside him, the former tsking. Ororo gave Logan a knowing look, crossing her arms. "You still at it, huh?" she teased, nodding in your direction.

Logan grunted but didn't respond immediately, sipping his coffee as he watched you and Hank animatedly discuss your project. You were explaining something with such enthusiasm, using your hands to gesture wildly, that it made him smirk. The light blue sweater you wore today only added to the adorable vibe you unknowingly radiated.

Jean nudged him lightly. "Nine months, Logan. Nine months of flirting, and she’s still completely oblivious." She shook her head, amused.

"She’s a genius, remember?" Ororo said, raising an eyebrow. "She’s supposed to know everything."

Logan snorted, finally setting his coffee down. "Well, she clearly doesn’t know this. And I’m in no rush to tell her." He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His eyes didn’t leave you, even as the conversation between Hank and you grew more intense.

Jean chuckled. "It's kinda cute, though. Watching her get all flustered whenever you call her those names, like she’s completely missing the point."

"I know," Logan muttered with a grin. "She gets that little furrow in her brow, like she’s trying to figure it out, but then brushes it off. She’s too wrapped up in all her fancy projects and theories."

Ororo shook her head in disbelief. "You’ve got the patience of a saint. Most people would’ve given up by now."

Logan shrugged, glancing at Ororo. "Ain’t in any hurry. She’s worth the wait."

Jean smiled softly at that, then sighed. "Well, good luck. Maybe one day she’ll actually catch on."

As if on cue, you let out a triumphant laugh from across the room, and Logan’s attention immediately shifted back to you. You had a bright smile on your face, clearly excited about whatever breakthrough you and Hank had just made.

"You’re like a moth to a flame," Ororo muttered under her breath with a smirk, walking off with Jean to sit down.

Logan ignored her, his eyes still locked on you as you gathered up some papers and started to walk toward the exit. As you passed him, he casually stuck his leg out just enough that you had to stop short to avoid tripping.

“Logan!” you exclaimed, looking down at his leg and then up at him with confusion.

He raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of his coffee. "Mornin', sweetheart."

You blinked at him, clearly thrown off for a moment. "Uh, morning." You shifted the stack of papers in your arms. "Why’d you—"

"Just wanted to say good job," he interrupted, nodding toward the papers in your hand. "Whatever you and Hank were talkin’ about over there seemed pretty important."

Your face lit up at the mention of your project, and you immediately launched into an explanation, completely forgetting about Logan's odd behavior. "Oh, yeah! We finally stabilized the energy output! It’s been driving us crazy for weeks, but we think we’ve figured out how to—"

Logan barely paid attention to the technical jargon that followed, more focused on the way your eyes sparkled as you talked, your excitement contagious. He gave a few gruff nods, pretending to follow along, but it was the way you lit up when you were passionate about something that kept him hooked.

"You’re incredible, you know that?" he said once you finished, his voice low and serious.

You blinked, taken aback. "Uh, what?"

"I said you’re incredible." He repeated, his gaze locking onto yours. "Smart, talented, and cute as a button. Gotta give credit where it’s due."

Your cheeks flushed pink, and you quickly looked down at the papers in your arms. "Oh, um, thanks, Logan," you mumbled, completely missing the deeper implication of his words, as usual. "I... I should probably get these to the lab. We need to review them before the next phase."

"Of course," Logan said, his smirk widening as he watched you stumble over your words. "But don’t forget to take a break, doll. All work and no play ain’t good for anyone."

"Right," you said, nodding as you hurried off, your mind already shifting back to your project, completely oblivious to the playful grin on Logan's face.

---

“You’ve never even been clubbing!?” Ororo exclaimed, holding up a finger to stop you from saying anything. “And you know I’m not talking about something like a ‘gardening club’.”

“And you have?” You asked, sitting on your bed as Jean looked through your closet.

Ororo laughed, shaking her head at your naivety. “Oh, Y/N, honey, I’ve been out dancing plenty of times. Clubbing is one of those things you just have to experience.”

Jean, still rummaging through your closet, chimed in, "She’s right, Y/N. It's fun to get out of the lab once in a while and let loose. You spend so much time buried in your work. You deserve a break."

You sighed, sinking back onto the bed. "I don’t know… It just seems like a waste of time. We could watch a movie, drink some wine, and call it a night."

Ororo leaned against your dresser, crossing her arms. "You can’t hide behind your projects forever, Flora. You need to socialize, let your hair down." She smirked, looking at you pointedly. "You never know, maybe someone will finally catch your eye."

You furrowed your brow, unconvinced. "Like who?"

Jean shared a knowing look with Ororo before turning to face you, holding up a dress you’d forgotten you owned. “Who knows? There could be someone at the club. Or maybe someone you’ve been completely blind to.”

Ororo raised an eyebrow and added, "Someone who’s been giving you attention for months, perhaps."

Your eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Jean grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she held up the dress in front of you. "Nothing, just an observation. Now, come on, put this on. Let’s see how it looks."

You sighed, getting off the bed and taking the dress from Jean’s hands. "I still don’t get what the big deal is. I’m perfectly fine without this whole clubbing thing."

Ororo smirked, stepping toward the door. “Trust us. You’ll thank us later.”

---

A few hours later, you found yourself standing outside one of the busiest clubs in the city, feeling slightly out of place in the dress Jean had picked out for you. The music thumped from inside the building, the bass reverberating through the sidewalk as people lined up to get in. You stood between Jean and Ororo, who both looked far more comfortable in their outfits than you felt in yours.

"I can’t believe you guys convinced me to come," you muttered under your breath, shifting on your feet as you glanced at the line of people ahead.

Jean grinned, looping her arm through yours. "You’re going to have fun. Trust me. It’s a nice change of pace."

Ororo nodded in agreement. "Plus, you deserve a night out. You’ve been working hard."

As you were about to respond, the doors of the club swung open, and you were hit with a blast of cool air mixed with the sound of thumping music. The bouncer waved the three of you in without a second glance, and before you knew it, you were inside, the lights flashing and the crowd buzzing with energy.

You followed Jean and Ororo through the throngs of people, weaving through the packed dance floor until you reached the bar. The atmosphere was unlike anything you were used to—loud, chaotic, and a little overwhelming. You weren’t sure how you felt about it yet.

Ororo leaned against the bar, ordering drinks while Jean turned to you with a grin. "What do you think so far?"

You shrugged, glancing around. "It’s... different."

"Just give it a chance," Jean said, patting your arm. "Once you get a drink in you and loosen up a bit, you’ll feel better."

The bartender handed Ororo three drinks, and she passed one to you with a wink. "To new experiences, Flora."

You hesitated for a moment before raising your glass. "To new experiences, I guess."

The three of you clinked glasses, and you took a sip, feeling the warmth of the alcohol start to settle in. Maybe this night wouldn’t be so bad after all.

---

An expensive Uber trip later and you three were back at the mansion at 4 in the morning. Luckily it was Friday, or Saturday now, so there was no need to worry about being hungover for classes.

You don’t think you’ve ever drank that much alcohol, but to be fair, you must have a really low tolerance since you never partied in college, other than the occasional glass of wine.

So, drinking around 5 or 6 fruity cocktails surely made you see things differently. Maybe just a tad bit too blurry and clumsy.

You fumbled with your keys at the mansion door, Jean giggling behind you. “Here, let me help,” she offered, her hands steadier than yours as she took the keys and unlocked the door with ease.

“I’m fine, Jean!” you protested with a laugh, swaying slightly as you stepped inside. You weren’t used to feeling so... unbalanced. Everything seemed lighter, funnier, and a little more ridiculous after the alcohol. You were starting to understand why people did this more often.

Ororo walked in behind you, shaking her head but smiling. “Maybe next time we won’t let you have quite so many drinks,” she teased, gently guiding you toward the living room. “You’re gonna feel this tomorrow.”

“I’m a genius,” you declared, holding your head high in mock dignity, “I’ll be fine.”

Jean snorted, flopping onto the couch. “Oh yeah? Even geniuses can’t outsmart a hangover.”

You waved her off, settling into a chair, only to realize it was far too squishy, causing you to slide right down onto the floor. You stared at it for a second, then burst out laughing. “Who put a trap here?”

Ororo and Jean were in hysterics now, and even though your head was spinning, you couldn’t help but join in.

“You know,” Ororo started between giggles, “for someone who knows everything, you sure don’t know how to handle a drink.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, or at least tried to. “It’s... an anomaly. Unpredictable variables.”

“Right,” Jean said, leaning back with a grin, “just like Logan’s flirting.”

You blinked, the name snapping you out of your drunken haze for a second. “Logan’s what?”

Ororo and Jean exchanged glances before looking back at you, their smiles widening.

“His flirting,” Jean repeated slowly, as if explaining a simple concept.

You squinted, feeling like your brain was moving through molasses. “Flirting? Logan? With me?”

Ororo rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, Y/N. For months. You seriously haven’t noticed?”

You stared at them both, utterly lost. “Flirting? Logan? Are you guys drunk too?”

Jean sighed dramatically, standing up. “I think you’re too far gone to process this tonight.”

You shook your head, still trying to wrap your mind around what they were saying. Logan? Flirting? With you? It didn’t make any sense. Logan was... well, Logan.

Ororo pulled you up from the floor, patting your arm. “Let’s get you to bed. You can overthink this tomorrow.”

---

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach that felt like it was doing somersaults. Groaning, you dragged yourself out of bed, making a mental note to never drink that much again.

As you made your way to the kitchen, hoping to find coffee and maybe something greasy to settle your stomach, you tried to remember the details from last night. Jean and Ororo had said something about Logan... flirting with you?

You shook your head. That couldn’t be right. Logan wasn’t the type to flirt. He was gruff, tough, and mostly kept to himself. Sure, he called you pet names, but that didn’t mean anything. Right?

Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you sat at the kitchen island, still groggy. You were about to take a sip when you heard the familiar sound of boots approaching.

“Mornin’, doll,” Logan greeted as he walked in, his voice a low rumble.

You looked up at him, your brain still foggy, and for some reason, the word ‘flirting’ popped into your mind again. You stared at him for a moment longer than necessary, your head tilting slightly.

“Uh... morning,” you replied, your voice a little more unsure than usual. You couldn’t stop replaying what Jean and Ororo had said last night. Was this flirting? You eyed Logan, trying to decipher his expression.

He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “You look like hell.”

“Gee, thanks,” you muttered, taking a sip of your coffee. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Logan chuckled, that deep, rough sound that always sent a weird shiver down your spine. “Guess you didn’t take my advice about not overdoing it, huh?”

You blinked. “What advice?”

“Last night,” he said, smirking, “told ya not to have too many drinks, sweetheart.”

Your brow furrowed. “Wait, you were there?”

“Yeah,” Logan said, clearly amused. “Passed by when you three were heading out. You looked excited about... whatever the hell it is you get excited about.”

You frowned, trying to remember him saying that. It was all so hazy. Then you shook your head, deciding to just drop it. “Well, I’ll survive.”

Logan gave you a lazy grin. “Tough as nails, aren’t ya?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I guess so.”

There was a moment of silence before Logan pushed off the counter and moved closer. He reached out and gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing your cheek for just a second too long. “Good thing. Wouldn’t want ya to break, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened, your breath catching in your throat. This was... different. You felt your face heat up, and you quickly turned your attention back to your coffee. “Uh... right.”

Logan’s smirk didn’t fade as he stepped back. “See ya around, darlin’.”

You watched him leave the kitchen, your heart pounding in your chest for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. What was that? Was that what Jean and Ororo had been talking about? Or was it just him being old-fashioned, after all he was over 200 years old, and you were a mere 25. He was the Wolverine, and you were just a young teacher that happened to be an X-Men.

---

It had been a week since you had gone out clubbing with Jean and Ororo and you were too far gone in your own mind. You started observing things more carefully, the way Logan would rest his hand on your lower back when he was walking you to your next class, how he occasionally brought you snacks when you were in the lab, telling Hank that they were only for you, and finally, how he really only called you nicknames.

Ever since that realization, you tried to keep it hidden, to process it on your own. After all, guys didn’t like you. You weren’t exactly the kind of girl they wanted.

Logan noticed how you got more nervous around him, your heart beating faster, how you seemed to stumble over your words more often than not around him. At one point, he asked Jean about it, to which she revealed her and Ororo did what he couldn’t.

He ended up outside of your office, hearing you talk to one of the senior students about which colleges were the best for his major. You assured him that just because it was September, doesn’t mean he’s too late to apply.

Logan knocked on the door as you said that the door was unlocked. He hadn’t seen your outfit today, a white pencil skirt paired with a skintight, long sleeve peach colored shirt. Your hip was leaning against the front of the desk next to where the student was sitting.

Kean looked between the two of you, before quickly gathering his things and the brochures you gave him for various colleges.

"Remember to look into some engineering programs! I’d think they’d be great for you!" You called out after Kean, watching as the student hurried out of your office. The door clicked shut behind him, and you sighed, thinking of the next round of paperwork waiting on your desk. You were about to walk around your desk to sit down when you noticed Logan still standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe, his eyes focused on you in that intense way he often did.

"Sweetheart, got a minute?" Logan's voice was rough, familiar, and held that signature casualness that made it feel like he wasn't really asking.

You blinked, startled for a second before nodding. "Uh, yeah. Sure, Logan. What's up?"

Logan stepped further into the room, his eyes scanning you briefly. "You looked pretty wrapped up in your work. Thought you could use a break."

Your mind raced, suddenly self-conscious. "Yeah, I’ve been helping some of the seniors with their college stuff," you explained, motioning to the brochures still scattered across your desk. "It's that time of year where they start panicking about applications."

Logan smirked, his arms crossing over his chest. "You always keep yourself busy, don’t ya, doll?"

You rolled your lower lip while humming as your answer. You crossed your arms, watching as Logan came closer to you, standing almost toe to toe with your pointy short peach colored heels.

“You finally figured it out then, didn’t ya?” He asked.

“I- well, uh…” you stammered, suddenly feeling heat rush to your face. Why was Logan looking at you like that? And what did he mean by ‘you finally figured it out’? Were Ororo and Jean right?

Logan’s smirk deepened, amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched you fumble over your words. "You’re a genius, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now."

Your heart raced, and you felt your palms start to sweat. Why was he so close? You tried to focus on the conversation, on anything other than how your body was reacting to his presence. "N-noticed what?" you managed to get out, your voice sounding way less composed than you intended.

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this far more than you were. "How I’ve been flirtin’ with ya for months now," he said casually, as if he were commenting on the weather.

Your brain short-circuited. Flirting? Logan? Flirting? With you? That didn’t make any sense. Logan flirted with women who were… well, not you. He was the rough-around-the-edges kind of guy who went for women who were confident, flirtatious, and knew how to handle someone like him. You were the awkward  genius who spent more time in the lab than anywhere else. Guys didn’t flirt with you.

"You’ve been—wait, what?" you asked, blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of what he was saying. "You’ve been flirting with me?"

Logan chuckled, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "Yeah, doll. Pretty sure everyone at the mansion’s noticed by now." His smirk returned as he added, "Except you, apparently."

Your face burned, and you tried to think back. Had he been flirting? The nicknames, the snacks, the casual touches… it all seemed so… normal for Logan. You thought he was just being friendly, maybe a bit protective like he was with some of the younger students.

"I—" You started to say something but stopped, unsure of what exactly to say. You felt like the ground had shifted beneath you. "Why didn’t anyone tell me?"

Logan shrugged. "Didn’t think it was their place. Figured you’d catch on eventually." His gaze softened, and he added, "Didn’t expect you to be this oblivious, though. Kinda cute."

You were sure your face couldn’t get any redder. "I’m not… I’m not oblivious," you mumbled, crossing your arms defensively. "I just didn’t think you’d be interested in someone like me."

Logan’s eyebrows shot up. "And why the hell not?"

"Because I’m… me!" You motioned to yourself, like that explained everything. "Guys don’t flirt with me, Logan. They’re usually intimidated or just… I don’t know. I’m not the kind of girl guys like."

You didn’t have any friends until you came here, which was sad because you were 24 when you finally had some.

Sure, you tried to make some during college, joined the gardening club and the astronomy club, but whenever you talked people would never really listen to you.

You even tried going on a few dates with some guys from online dating apps. They were your age, but they were in their third year of college while you were already working on two master’s degrees. You even had similarities with a few of them.

One guy liked Star Wars, and you went into a short rant about how the physics of it was wrong and even talked about a bunch of the lore behind it. Same with the other 2 dates you went on, they were all one and done.

Guys didn’t like you. That’s just the way it was.

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, doll. You think guys don’t notice you?”

You crossed your arms, feeling defensive again. “I don’t think, I know. Trust me, I’ve tried.” You paused, hesitating before you added, “I’m not exactly… good at this kind of thing. Social stuff, I mean. I’m better at figuring out equations than people.”

Logan stepped closer, so close that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. “You’re wrong, sweetheart,” he said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You’ve got this idea in your head that no one’s gonna want you because you’re too smart or too different, but that ain’t true. Not even close.”

You blinked up at him, unsure of how to respond. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach flutter in a way that felt both exciting and terrifying. “I just… I don’t see why you’d be interested in me,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re Logan. You could have anyone.”

Logan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, but I don’t want just anyone.” His eyes locked onto yours, his tone becoming serious. “I want you.”

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest. You had no idea what to say. Logan had been flirting with you—Logan, the gruff, no-nonsense guy you’d come to admire over the past year—and you’d been completely clueless. How could someone like him, someone who seemed so out of your league, be interested in you?

“I… I don’t understand,” you mumbled, still struggling to process everything. “Why me?”

Logan sighed, as if he had been waiting for this question for months. “Because you’re brilliant, Y/N. You’ve got this fire in you, this passion for everything you do. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and you don’t let anyone push you around. And you’re so damn kind, even when you don’t have to be.” He ran a hand through his hair, as if trying to gather his thoughts. “You’ve got no idea how many times I’ve wanted to tell you, but… well, you’re not exactly the easiest person to talk to about feelings.”

You blinked. “I’m not?”

Logan smirked. “No, sweetheart, you’re not. You overthink everything. Makes it kinda hard to tell you I like you without you analyzing it to death.”

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of embarrassment and disbelief. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, not really knowing what else to say. “I just didn’t think you… I didn’t think anyone would… you know.”

Logan stepped even closer, so close that you had to sit on the edge of your desk. “Well, I do,” he said, his voice low. “And I’ve been waitin’ for you to figure it out.”

You stared up at him, your mind still reeling. All this time, Logan had been flirting with you, had liked you, and you hadn’t noticed. And now, here he was, standing so close you could feel his breath on your skin, telling you exactly how he felt. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

"Logan, I…" you started, but the words got caught in your throat. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to something like this. Part of you wanted to brush it off as some kind of misunderstanding, but the way he was looking at you, the way he had always looked at you, made it clear that this wasn’t a joke or a misunderstanding.

He really liked you.

Logan smirked at your silence, clearly amused by how flustered you were. "Speechless, huh? That’s a first," he teased, his voice low and rough in that way that made your stomach flip.

You shook your head, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "It’s just… I didn’t think you’d be interested in someone like me. You’re Logan, and I’m…" You gestured to yourself awkwardly. "Me."

Logan frowned slightly, his brows pulling together. "What the hell’s that supposed to mean?"

You shrugged in response, turning your head downward to look down at your lap. It didn’t last long, because Logan put his thumb on your chin, turning your head upright to look at him.

He noticed your expression change, you were someone who was easy to read, never really kept her emotions hidden well, or at least not to him. You went from big doe eyes and sad, pouty lips to flustered. Your eyes were curious and almost nervous and your pink lips, courtesy of the colored lip balm you always wore, were slightly parted.

Logan held your gaze, his thumb gently resting on your chin, and you couldn’t help but feel your pulse quicken under his touch. He was so close now, close enough that the musky scent of him was filling your senses, making it even harder to think clearly.

"You really think I’d waste my time on someone I didn’t want?" Logan’s voice was low, gruff, but there was a softness to it that you hadn’t heard before.

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The words were jumbled in your mind, and all you could focus on was the way his rough fingers were still holding your chin, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. The confidence he exuded was overwhelming. How could he be so sure, so calm, while you felt like your brain was on fire?

"Logan, I…" you trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his hand, the warmth of his body so close—it was too much.

He let out a soft chuckle, clearly amused by how flustered you were. "Doll, you’re overthinking again."

Your lips pressed together into a thin line as you tried to get a handle on your spiraling thoughts. "I’m just… surprised. I didn’t think…" You hesitated, the words feeling clumsy in your mouth. His thumb moved slightly up, still holding onto your chin but now brushing against your lower lip, making it more difficult to concentrate or come up with a single coherent thought.

No one had ever treated you like this, so kindly and… normally. You thought back to the only 3 dates you had ever been on during college, how none of them ever really tried to get to know you, or peel back the layers behind your smarts.

Because you weren’t just smart, you loved gardening, and baking, hell, you even liked to dress cute. And out of all the guys, Logan never treated you like someone different. It was nice to be around someone like that, who embraced who you were rather than try and get you to bury it. Maybe it was his age? You remember reading an article from a psych organization about how younger women like older men because of emotional maturity-

Rough hands cupped your face, bringing you out of your thoughts. “Hey, stop thinkin’. What the hell could you be thinkin’ about right now?”

You gave a shy smile and shook your head gently, his hands still on your face. “Nothin’,” you mumbled, your voice softer than you intended. You tried to play it off like everything was fine, but Logan wasn’t buying it.

Logan’s brow furrowed slightly, his thumb brushing your cheek now. "You’re a terrible liar, sweetheart." His voice was low, that gravelly tone sending shivers down your spine.

You swallowed, your mind still racing as you searched for the right words. "I just… I don’t get why you’d want me," you admitted, your eyes flicking away from his. "You’re this… badass, Logan. You’ve been through so much. You could have anyone."

His hands stayed where they were, his touch gentle but firm as he guided your gaze back to his. "I told you, doll. I don’t want anyone else. I want you."

You blinked up at him, still unsure of how to respond. It felt like your heart was beating out of your chest, and your mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts. On one hand, Logan was the last person you ever thought would have feelings for you. On the other hand, here he was, being painfully honest, and you couldn’t deny the sincerity in his voice.

"I just…" you hesitated, biting your lip, "I don’t know how to do this, Logan. I’m not… I’ve never been good at… people. Relationships. I mean, I’m good at math, science, and solving problems but not—this."

Logan chuckled softly, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "You don’t gotta be good at it, Y/N. You just gotta be you." His voice softened, the teasing tone dropping away as he said, "That’s all I’ve ever wanted."

Your breath caught in your throat. He made it sound so simple, like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was a big deal to you. You hadn’t dated much—hardly at all, if you were being honest. Relationships felt like another complex equation you couldn’t quite solve.

"Logan, I…" you started, but he cut you off, his hands dropping from your face to settle on your hips, pulling you just a little closer.

"You overthinkin’ again?" Logan smirked, one eyebrow raised.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. "Maybe a little," you admitted, your voice quiet. It was hard to concentrate when he was so close, his hands resting on your hips like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"That’s what I thought," Logan muttered, leaning in just enough that his forehead almost touched yours. "You don’t gotta figure everything out right now, doll. Just… let it happen."

You stared at him, your mind whirling. "Let it happen?" you echoed, trying to wrap your head around what he was saying.

"Yeah," Logan said softly, his voice rough but soothing at the same time. "Stop tryin’ to solve it like it’s some kinda problem. Just be with me."

You blinked, your heart doing that weird fluttering thing again. Be with him? It sounded so simple when he said it like that. But you couldn’t help the flood of doubt that kept creeping into your mind. What if you screwed it up? What if you weren’t good enough at this? What if—

Logan’s hands tightened slightly on your hips, and he pulled you closer, cutting off your spiraling thoughts. "Y/N, you’re doin’ it again," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble in the space between you. "You’re thinkin’ too much."

You sighed, biting your lip again. "I can’t help it," you muttered, feeling a little embarrassed. "That’s just how my brain works."

Logan chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "I know, darlin’. But you don’t gotta do that with me."

His words hung in the air, and you found yourself staring at him, completely unsure of what to say next. No one had ever spoken to you like this before. No one had ever made you feel like it was okay to just… be. You were always the smartest person in the room, always expected to have the answers, to be the one in control. But with Logan, it felt different. He didn’t expect you to be anything but yourself.

"I…" You trailed off, your throat tightening. "I don’t know how to not overthink things."

Logan’s smirk softened, and he tilted his head slightly, his eyes warm as they met yours. "Then I’ll just have to distract you, won’t I?"

Before you could even process what he was saying, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in the softest, most unexpected kiss. It was like everything around you froze for a moment, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to catch up with what was happening.

Logan was kissing you.

Logan.

Was kissing.

You.

Your hands moved instinctively to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back. It wasn’t what you expected—nothing in your life had ever felt like this. The warmth, the softness of his lips against yours, the way he held you like you were something precious… it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

If you would’ve told your past self from five years ago, hell, even two months ago, that your first kiss would be with the Wolverine, you would’ve thought it was some grand, cosmic joke. But there you were, hands fisting into Logan’s shirt, his lips gently pressing against yours like this was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t how you’d imagined your first kiss would go. Not that you’d spent a lot of time imagining it—honestly, you’d been too busy with equations, papers, and research to even consider the prospect of someone being interested in you. But if you had pictured it, this wouldn’t have been it. Not with a man like Logan.

His rough hands held you in place, strong but careful, as if he was hyper-aware of how delicate you felt in his grasp. You, who could bend nature to your will, whose intelligence far surpassed anyone’s expectations, felt completely and utterly vulnerable in his arms.

When he pulled back, it wasn’t by much. His forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and slightly uneven. Logan’s lips curved into a smirk, one you could practically feel against your skin.

“Well,” he drawled, voice low and teasing, “that didn’t seem too bad, did it?”

You blinked up at him, still trying to recover from the shock. “I… I don’t—what just happened?”

Logan chuckled softly, his thumbs brushing small circles into your hips, keeping you grounded when your thoughts were spinning out of control. “I just kissed ya, sweetheart. And unless I’m readin’ the situation wrong, you didn’t mind too much.”

Your mind raced, heart hammering in your chest. “No, I—” You paused, biting your lip as you tried to form a coherent thought. “I didn’t mind. It’s just—”

“Just what?” Logan’s voice softened, his expression growing more serious as he studied your face.

“I wasn’t expecting it.” You swallowed, looking away from him for a moment before forcing yourself to meet his eyes again. “I didn’t think someone like you… I mean, I didn’t think you would- I didn’t think anyone would- ”

Logan raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to finish, but when you didn’t, he took a step closer. His hand was still resting on your hip, keeping you anchored to him, and the heat of his body was impossible to ignore. “Didn’t think what, sweetheart?”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his question press down on you. It was like all the words in your head had turned to static, and you couldn’t figure out how to string a coherent sentence together. "I just… I don’t know," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, teasing smile, but his eyes stayed serious. "You don’t know, or you don’t wanna say?"

You bit your lip, your mind still reeling from the kiss. The memory of it—soft, unexpected, but not unwelcome—was playing on a loop in your head. You hadn’t been kissed much, if at all, and the idea that Logan was the one to give you your first real kiss was still something you were trying to process.

But you couldn’t lie, it was nice. You were 25, just had your first kiss, and suddenly you felt like a teenager in a Disney movie.

A grin slipped past your lips. "I just wasn’t expecting you to kiss me, old man," you finally replied, your voice teasing but soft.

Logan’s eyebrows raised, and a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Old man, huh?" he murmured, his voice dipping into that gravelly tone that always made you feel a bit flustered. "Pretty sure that kiss just proved I’ve still got it."

You laughed softly, your hands still fisted in his shirt, though he didn’t seem to mind at all. Logan’s smirk widened at the sound of your laughter, and you could feel the tension in the air start to ease, just a little.

"Yeah, maybe you do," you replied, your voice soft but teasing as you looked up at him, your heart still beating a little too fast from the kiss. "Guess you're not as rusty as I thought."

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. "Rusty?" he repeated, his voice low and playful, with that gravelly edge that made your stomach flip every time. "You seriously thought I was rusty, sweetheart?"

You shrugged, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite how close he was and how easily he seemed to get under your skin. "I don’t know. I mean, you’re a couple of hundred years old. Thought you might’ve lost your touch."

Logan chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest as he leaned in just a little closer. "Oh, darlin'," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I ain't lost a damn thing."

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a second, you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Logan’s confidence was overwhelming, but it wasn’t just that—there was a tenderness in the way he looked at you, a softness in his touch that made your chest feel tight.

"Okay, okay," you finally muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to deflect some of the attention. "Point taken."

Logan grinned, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. "Good," he said simply, his thumbs brushing lightly over your hips where his hands still rested. "’Cause I don’t wanna hear any more about me bein’ rusty or old. Got it?"

You nodded, biting your lip as you tried not to smile too much. "Got it."

chapter 3 of Sweet Dreams will be up tomorrow!

[shougojo]

POPS IN AND SHAKES YOU

BAMBI. you are the next one on my list to convert to a hsr / genshin papa enthusiast >:)

bambi…. do u have any thoughts abt hsr and genshin papas (twirling my hair as i type)

໒꒱ ‧₊˚ HONAKI STAR RAIL MEN AS DADS — VARIOUS HSR.

ft. jing yuan, blade, dan heng, aventurine x fem! reader (separate)

content. literally so much fluff u can consider ssfw (super sfw), BUT is kinda suggestive, established relationship (marriage), dan heng’s part is slightly il dan heng, lots of mentions of pregnancy, parental au, somewhat a headcannon w little blurbs in between !!!!, lots & lots of kisses, pet names used for reader, not proofread

notes. IM SO SRRY IT TOOK THIS LONG; hopefully i cooked/redeemed myself w this 😞🙏 made a specially for @neuvistar — maryse !! i also made the writing smaller bc i don’t want it to look longer (srry if it’s hard to read :’)) i doubt myself w this idk if it’s even good (i cut off half of the characters i was gonna write bc i honestly idk 😾 & i did some of them dirty IM SORRY) </3 but i actually do have thoughts, but i hate when i have smt in mind & i js can’t seem to write it down SHAKES YOU IN FRUSTRATION

JING YUAN — is literally father and daddy coded you cannot persuade me that he isn’t (i will throw hands at you) he’s super sweet and gentle with you before and after your pregnancy, he’ll actually probably treat you the same after you get your children — although maybe he’ll be more patient. overall he’s on the chiller dad side. personally, jing yuan would naturally know how to handle his children even when they’re a few hours after birth. he would cradle them with so much care and gentleness like your baby is made of fragile glass. but what’s to expect? he has yanqing to deal with in the first place.

JING YUAN — would be the man to kiss your forehead multiple times during pregnancy, he’ll actually transform into a male wife, he’ll also go as far as canceling all of his meetings and not give a damn about each one, even if you tried telling him to; he’s stick by your side like super glue. he’s SO reassuring. it’s a shame fu xuan had to deal with a man like him, he’ll never focus properly even if he went to work. all he has on his mind is you and his soon-to-be little versions of you and him.

“take it easy, love. i’ll be right by your side if you need me.”

JING YUAN — who would and will have two daughters, he’s such a girl dad i can see it. i feel like he wouldn’t (??) have twins, just like one child at a time, a very supportive dad. he could easily cheer up his daughters anytime, like when they trip, fall, scrap their knee, need help on homework, need assistance on changing, and so much more.

JING YUAN — who takes naps with his daughters anywhere, anytime. his daughters definitely inherited their father’s love for sleep (and his lazy personality), they enjoy sleeping just like their sleep deprived father. you’ll as often walk in on the three sleeping together — the children wrapped in jing yuan’s warm, muscular arms. unfortunately, you go a long way just to wake up your husband, what makes you think waking up your husband and two more lazy children that have the same ego as their father help?

“mommyy… 5 mor’…”

“mhm, what she said… just 5 more minutes, darling… how about you join us..?

JING YUAN — spoils his daughters. he doesn’t spoil them too much, or else they’ll grow up to be greedy, so he’ll spoil them just a right amount that they know how to behave properly when receiving something thoughtful. he cherishes the moments he gets to spend with you and the children together — he occasionally schedules times so he can get home at a specific time to spend with his family. eating dinner, playing games, and just enjoying his family. on rare occasions, his girls will wake up early and even come to your’s and jing yuan’s bedroom to wake you two up in the morning! leading to a huge cuddle session and cute babbling from your mix of you and jing yuan.

BLADE — is quite the dad, actually. he obviously won’t show it, but he’s in between being extremely nervous and extremely excited on being a dad. he’s not sure if it’ll be worth the shot even being a father, due to all of the trauma and greif he’s had in his life. but after he met you, he’s started to diminish his need to disappear. additionally, you’ll be there to reassure him.

BLADE — is a very good father. like before, he’s nervous, but he has soft spot for you — which means he has an even softer spot for his own children. he’s a girl dad; one daughter and i can see it. he takes REAL good care of her when she’s just minutes out the womb. just the way blade’s eyes softened so much and his mouth slight gaped can tell how blade sees his beautiful daughter. the man to tuck his girl’s stray hairs out of her face and kiss her face afterwards.

“she looks just like me..”

BLADE — who's so gentle with his daughter. despite being a wanted criminal who fights with much skill and discipline, it’s a true surprise to see him so vulnerable while using his rough hands to softly cradle his daughter who’s ten times smaller than him. he’ll let his daughter play with his bangs and long luscious hair, even if he has to brush it all over again. he doesn’t give a single care about his hair, as long as his daughter gets her entertainment. he’ll let her slap his face, squish his cheeks, bump his nose, whatever (he probably wouldn’t let them all slide). on some days, when blade’s not running around and escaping from soldiers, he lets his daughter go ALL out on him. the two will definitely play — dress up, dolls, tea party’s, and much, much more (but it’s not like he can say no).

BLADE — who unfortunately “becomes” a pretty princess once his daughter gets to work. neon clips, silky ribbons, fake makeup, pink hair ties, jewelry, everything. and when you witness it, it’s more than difficult to hold in your laugh.

“blade!… blade?-”

“don’t.”

BLADE — is a pretty accurate protective father, but sometimes, it’s not even his protectiveness that’s acting. just a small glance or look from him can scare any boy from staying near or close your daughter. you remind him constantly to give his daughter some freedom, but what’s he gonna do if he’s doing nothing — but staring at the boy? it’ll take time for him to accept a guy that your daughter actually really likes and wants to be with, but don’t worry, blade will be “kind” enough to do it for his daughter. but don’t expect him to accept a man so easily (and the man to accept a dad-in-law so… scary), he’ll definitely have them take a “trial” on something to be able to be his daughter’s lover. heads up, if any guy hurts his daughter in any way, physically, mentally, or emotionally, they better count their days.

DAN HENG — is literally the sweetest dad to ever have, it’s tooth rottening. he’s like the entire package. he’ll make sure his children get a good education, live in a good environment, provide them with a decent life style, and hope they grow up to be amazing people (i’m crying rn). but before actually receiving you giving birth to your child, dan heng was the biggest nervous thing ever. he never thought to ever have a child of his own, and doubt how he’ll have to work it out. but you reassured him, and true to your words, he was.

DAN HENG — stays by your side almost all the time during your pregnancy. even when he had lots of trailblazing with the crew, he insisted to stay back to care for you and his future children. fortunately, he was allowed to by himeko and welt — unfortunately for march 7th and the trailblazer, they were missing a member to provoke. he can and will do everything and anything for you; the whole princess treatment. need water? right on top of your bed stand. need a pillow? he’s already rushing for a spare one. need something to eat? he’s already provided it (breakfast in bed guys). don’t forget the cuddles on the side, he’ll provide that anytime. his cuddles are literally so warm it warms up your body in the process, he’s like your personal heater. dan heng will definitely rub soothing circles on the belly — he knows it gets difficult to be a mother (not by experience guys get it out of your head), so he hopes all his acts of service helps you.

“shhh… take it easy love.”

DAN HENG — would have 2 children, a son and a daughter. unless it’s il dan heng, then that’s something else. i’d say the son is the oldest, although i don’t exactly 100% see it. there will be tears when he gets to see his very first child, holding them like it’s like his very last chance of living. he’ll immediately kiss your forehead after you’ve given birth to your and his’ child, promising to care for your son (and future daughter) ‘till the day he dies. he’ll also be by your side when your in the process of delivering your child. rubbing circles on your hands, lightly hushing and kissing you, intertwining hands, and saying the most supportive and loving words ever. and you maybe even cried during it because you can’t believe to have such an amazing husband like dan heng by your side (i’m crying again). additionally, the way his heart and eyes melted when you send him a small smile and slowly closed your eyes to rest.

DAN HENG — who like blade, would let his children play with his hair. sometimes, he’d transform into his vidyadhara and let his children play with his long hair; clipping clips, tying his hair, fashioning it, etc. i guess the son wouldn’t be so into that, but he’ll help his sister dress up their father. you melt whenever you happen to see your little toddlers play and try to chase after their father’s dragon tail. careful not to have them trip or fall, dan heng enjoys teaseing them and having them run after his tail — like a puppy, hoping that they manage to catch his tail and play atop it. i also can’t help but think of the thought dan heng would have his tail “turn” into a slide for his little children! they would just slide down and run back to their father for another round until they’re exhausted.

“hehe... again! again!”

“alright, you can slide some more, but then it’s gonna be your nap time.”

“ok, daddy!”

DAN HENG — who lovingly tucks his kids in their bed or crib when it’s their nap time, or it’s their bedtime. it’s such a heartwarming scene to witness, it could easily melt even the coldest of hearts. i think dan heng would sing them lullabies, but occasionally when he feels like it’s time for them understand the meanings of his songs. dan heng slightly blushes when he sees you in the doorway, flustering that you got to see how vulnerable he is, but that’s not a bother.

AVENTURINE — is one of the funnest and dedicated dads. he just loves his children so much, even if he has a side job, he always manages to make time for them and you. would definitely cry tears of joy and happiness when he receives them, stroking their small heads and holding them so tenderly. he loves you so much for giving him his children; he'd babble on forever about how you're such an amazing wife for working so hard for him and you, probable crying while saying all those heartwarming things. he's more than grateful to have his little children.

AVENTURINE — is such an AMAZING dad and supporter oh my goodness. he's so caring when you're a few months and/or weeks pregnant. maybe he becomes a male-wife (??), that's very visible in my brain. for awhile, he would take a break on going to the casino — to stay home and care for you. would easily decline any offer from any opponents that want to gamble. you would sometimes just wake up in the morning and hear his conversations to somebody about some business.

"no... im good... listen, for the last time, im not. please and thank you." hangs up.

"oh! mornin' babe. huh? — oh, its nothing, just some brat."

AVENTURINE — is a girl dad, but i feel like he would have one son and two daughters. he would love them all equally and take care of them so much; giving them a childhood he never managed to have. aventurine i guess i pretty known for being quite a guy, but his kids would be the sweetest ever — which he said was inherited by you. but just like their dad, they have another side (😈), they can be SO troublesome and little maniacs if they want to.

AVENTURINE — who gets tackled to the ground whenever he gets home from work by his children. it’s so cute and entertaining to see him get beaten to the ground by kids so much younger than him. they would just tackle his — grabbing his hat and coat and wearing them themselves ITS SO CUTE. additionally, i see aventurine taking the three bundles of joy to his gambling games and have them like sit on his lap and let them experience it. and also watching their dad ‘win’, is what he said. but after a couple weeks of their visits, aventurine eventually had to limit their visits because they kept exposing his cards; throwing them, playing with them, shouting out his cards, etc.

“daddy has only two more blue cards!”

“and one yellow!”

“oh! hehe… don’t shout out, love, it’s rude.”

AVENTURINE — who does the weirdest things with his kids. he would one hundred percent (sorry not sorry) dab up his son and teaches him the weirdest shit ever. like it’s kinda not surprising at all. he would also let his daughter play around with his necessary stuff. many of his other stuff needs to been hidden well, because you know, his kids are pretty curious.

[afterglowkatie]

friend night into date night | l.w.

leah williamson x reader | 1.6k | an almost weekly tradition where leah gets to spend uninterrupted time with her favourite person

ˏˋ°•*⁀this is my first time writing for a real person, i used to write for fictional characters. hope you like it :)

Ever since you got back from your year long trip, Leah made sure you had one night almost every week where it was just the two of you. The two of you together doing anything you wanted, free from any and all expectations. Leah always tried to make time for these nights though there would always be a break whenever she was away on camp with England. Leah loved representing her country but hated being away from you, though the messages you’d send her of how proud of Leah you were would always help.

Normally these nights consisted of going out for dinner, exploring places you haven’t been or just staying in with either takeout or you cooked for her. Either way they always ended the same with you sprawled out on Leah’s couch watching movies and today was just like any other. Leah insisted on taking you to this new restaurant that just opened, remembering how you had been talking her ear off about it for months. There was no doubt in her mind when she instantly made a booking to take you there. Leah would do anything to make you happy, anything to see a smile brighten up your face.

Leah knew she made the right choice when you didn’t stop gushing over the food and how good it was and how happy you were to be there with her. You might talk a lot but never once did Leah make you feel like you were annoying or boring her. She always listened with a smile spread across her face.

‘Who’s idea was it to walk,’ You complained while wrapping your arms around your body trying to find some warmth on the walk back to Leah’s apartment.

‘If you’re cold,’ Before you could protest Leah took off her jacket and placed it over your shoulders while wrapping an arm around your waist pulling you closer to her. Warmth quickly spread over you, liking the idea of having Leah wrapped around you in some way or another.

‘But what if you get cold Le?’ You breathed out softly, leaning your head on her shoulder looking up at her. ‘I have like a million layers on, I’m sure I can spare you one without freezing,’ Leah smiled down at you warmly, watching the way you threw your head back slightly while laughing.

‘Keep it babe. It looks better on you anyway,’ Leah stopped you from giving her jacket back the second you walked through her apartment doors. Feeling your cheeks grow warm, you turned your head away slightly trying to keep your smile under control, ‘You get the snacks and I’ll get the blankets?’ You nodded thankful for the distraction from how your heart had started beating a little faster.

The movie hadn’t been on for long before Leah wrapped her arm around your shoulder pulling you into her side. You liked being close to her, something about Leah always made you feel warm and safe. Leah often kept you close, feeling the need to protect you whether it was in big crowds or just the two of you, knowing you were close to her made her happy. It wasn’t long after she held you close that your head ended up laying in Leah’s lap with her fingers running gently through your hair.

Anyone who didn’t know the two of you often mistook you for being together, not knowing how long you had been such close friends for. You were most comfortable around Leah and she was most comfortable around you. It had always been that way, even when you were little, and it had never changed.

‘Le,’ You whined out, ‘Can I use your phone? Mine died and I’m way too comfortable to get up,’ Leah laughed softly at the way you dramatically threw your phone down against the couch. She rolled her eyes playfully while you gave her a look that she just couldn’t say no to.

‘Sure, now put those eyes away,’ Leah smiled at you before covering your eyes, they were her biggest weakness and you knew how to play that to your advantage.

‘Le, aw I’m your lock screen. You’re mine too! See,’ Reaching for your phone trying to get it to light up to show her before groaning remembering that it was dead, ‘Oh I’ll show you later. Passcode please Le,’ Not tearing your eyes away you watched while Leah pressed each number, instantly recognising the group of numbers, ‘Wait, Le that’s my birthday,’ You turned your head furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

‘Oh is that what that is,’ Leah tried to feign innocence. A quick and brief comment while turning her head back to the movie, pretending to watch it while her thoughts were racing through her mind. Leah realises that you know her well enough to know that anything she does is never out of coincidence.

Thankfully, for Leah, you didn’t press that topic, happily turning your attention to the phone in your hand while listening to the movie playing and enjoying the way Leah’s fingers massaged your head. It wasn’t until the movie ended that you could feel Leah staring down at you. Locking her phone, you placed it down alongside your currently dead phone before meeting her gaze smiling softly at each other. Leah’s mind was racing with thoughts of you, ones she couldn’t shake no matter what she did. You noticed the way her smile faltered slightly and her body tensed up against yours. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion caused Leah to sigh.

‘I have to show you something,’ Leah was normally confident and bold but right now she was slightly apprehensive. Her slight change in demeanour had made you a little unsettled but you let Leah pull you from the couch and into her room. Sure you had been in her room plenty of times but right now it made you nervous to be in here, not knowing what was about to happen. 

Leah rummaged through her closet, almost wishing she could back out from what she was about to show you knowing it might change things. Hoping things between the two of you wouldn’t change for the worse. It was a risk Leah was willing to take, her heart just couldn’t take it much longer. Leah pulled out a small box from the top of her closet, gently placing it down on the bed next to you. Careful with the box as if the contents inside could break easily.

You gave Leah a reassuring smile, it was enough to get her to open allowing you to see the contents of the small box. Your eyes were wide and in awe at what was inside, ‘Le you kept all the letters I sent you?’ It really shouldn’t have been a surprise seeing all the letters and little gifts you had sent her while you were away on your year long trip. Though you were sure maybe some would’ve gotten lost or accidentally thrown away but you recognised every single one was there, ‘Wow you must really love me,’ Your comment was slightly teasing, though you knew Leah only loved and saw you as her best friend.

‘Yep…’ Leah breathed out quietly, though it was loud enough that you managed to catch it and the way she had said it along with the longing look in her eyes. You always did know how to read her.

‘What?’ You questioned, hoping that she would say the words you had always wished to hear from her. Hoping she meant it in the way that you wanted her to mean it.

‘Look,’ Leah moved the box sitting down next to you on the bed, fidgeting with her fingers. You shakily placed your hand on top of hers, holding them and trying to reassure her to continue on. Leah instantly laced your fingers together, looking at them while taking a moment to contemplate her next words to you. Hoping you felt the same way and that she wasn’t about to ruin the friendship the two of you had, ‘babe, when you were gone for the entire year it killed me not being able to see you. The time apart made me realise how much you mean to me. It’s why I suggested these weekly nights, just the two of us. It wasn’t about a night away from work, it was more about spending uninterrupted time with you,’ Leah paused, playing with your fingers, trying not to let her fear take over her and take back everything she’s already said.

‘Leah, what are you saying?’ You had a good idea where she was going. You kept pushing, wanting to actually hear Leah say the words to you.

Leah lifted her gaze from where your hands held each other, catching your eyes softly, ‘I love you. More than I could ever express to you. I want to turn our weekly friend nights into date nights,’ 

Your smile widened at Leah’s confession, heart racing you gave her hands a small squeeze of affection, ‘I love you too Le. So much. I didn’t think you felt the same, it’s the reason I left for so long because it was too painful to think or see you with someone that wasn’t me,’ You looked down feeling stupid for how you handled your feelings and worried Leah would be upset with you.

Leah softly pulled her hands from yours, gently taking your head in her hands so you were now looking at her. Rubbing her thumb along your cheek she smiled at you before leaning in, capturing your lips between hers. You relaxed into Leah’s touch, both of you smiling against each other's lips before pulling away. Leaning her forehead against yours she whispered out, ‘You’ll never have to worry about that. For as long as you’ll have me, I am completely yours,’

[hotpinkstars]

LAZY MORNINGS - aventurine x reader

- your husband gets a call early in the morning, kicking a start to your day. but instead of him going into work, he stays in your arms.

- hellooo everyone! i'm back and i changed my theme up a little bit. thank you to all of the condolences i received, it made me smile and also made me happy :) but i feel ready enough to write once again, and i've been having aventurine brainrot...... hm... also my bad if this is really ooc i've read most of the penacony story and have payed extra to aventurines parts (i can also write ratio for all you ratio simps who want more food..) but my brain is wired weird so.... i fuck some things up anyways enjoy!!!!!!!!!

- no warnings, wc 528

You wake up, and immediately check the clock on the side of your nightstand. It reads 5:30 am.

You rub your eyes, scanning the room before your eyes land on your husband, Aventurine, who's got one hand in his hair and the other holding his phone up to his ear.

He was a beautiful sight; his eyes half open, hair messy, and pajamas in a bundle with one button keeping it on his torso. You lay a hand on the naked part of his chest, letting him know you were awake. He looks down at you, shooting you a soft smile before speaking into his phone.

“...Alright, I understand,” He said, his tone laced with irritation and sleepiness. “Lets schedule the interview for today.”

You sighed, replacing your hand with your head, trying to go back to sleep. You pull the silk sheets over your ear, everything below your eyes covered by the warm covers. Aventurine wraps an arm around your body, hanging up on the man who called to inform him of what you assumed was something important, and put his phone down next to him.

“Sorry if I woke you, sweetheart,” He sighs, wrapping his other arm around your torso. You nuzzle into him, eyes closed. You mumble something incoherent, and he chuckles. “Someones tired this morning.”

You nod, and he kisses the top of your head. “Do you have to leave early this morning?”

“Nope, not today. They wanted me to, but I'll just say I didn’t feel well enough to get out of bed. I don’t miss work too often, so they won't bat too much of an eye, hopefully."

You giggle a bit, snuggling even deeper into his chest, his heartbeat audible. It comforted you, it always does, and you could’ve fallen asleep right away if it weren’t for his voice keeping you conscious.

“I wish I could bring you to work with me, but unfortunately I can’t. I have to work with Ratio again today,” he groans, putting a hand up to his forehead. “I’d rather spare you of the nuisance he is.”

You laugh once more. “I bet he’s not that bad. You just make him sound like a geek, that’s all.”

“He’s much more than that. Much more insufferable.”

“I doubt it.”

You both laugh before simply holding each other. It seemed like it was only the two of you on this planet; the sounds of birds chirping brought a harmonious feeling, and it was as if none of your worries were able to break through your bedroom door and haunt you.

You tried to stay awake with your husband, considering he was probably up for the day due to the ever so rude interruption at such an early time in the morning. He was used to waking at this time, so he would’ve likely been up soon anyway. You, on the other hand, usually wake up when he’s long gone for the day, so it’s just natural to want to sleep a little longer.

“Fall back asleep, babe,” he pressed a tiny peck to the top of your head, burying his nose in your soft locks. “I’ll be here when you wake back up.”

[ma1dita]

it will pass

part two can be found here -> without a doubt

words: little under 2k

summary: Without a doubt, James Potter loves you. But he’s not in love with you.

warnings: none! fem!reader; i would die for best friend!james, did not demonize lily; angst, unrequited love, lil childhood speech impediment, cheesy nicknames, sharing clothes, will they wont they (they wont im sorry)

a/n: guess who just rewatched fleabag szn 2! i chose pain today sorry— god i missed writing. i am a words of affirmation gorl pls affirm me

(posted 9/8/23)

—

There isn’t a single doubt that James Potter loves you.

You’ve been attached at the hip since training broomsticks and pinky swears in Godric’s Hollow. You accidentally call a boy ‘Jam’ once because of your childhood speech apraxia, and he swears you’re meant to be his best friend.

“Don’t worry, I can be loud enough for the both of us, peanut!”

Like peanut butter and jelly, you two were a perfect match– and even better partners in crime. When James puts his mind to something, he sees it through. So even if you were honestly unable to string the words together, who were you to say no?

Technically it’s somewhat official too, by whatever imaginary power was bestowed upon the Potter’s house elf for your very elaborate backyard fantasy wedding the two of you had when you were seven. All of your parents were in attendance, along with your cat and you all had blueberry cupcakes after your first and only kiss.

“Miss Mippy pronounces you huzbind and wife!”

Giggles are heard all around as the tiny elf tripped on her way off the stool, knocking both your heads together. James lost a front tooth that day, but he grinned for the pictures your mothers took anyway. Without a doubt, he loves you.

—

There wasn’t anyone at Hogwarts who would expect one of you to be present without the other following behind. You never had to hold back your smart mouth because James was always willing to finish your fights. The both of you were a package deal, with your number of protectors growing once Remus, Sirius, and Peter came along. It was not a routine you both consciously established, but rather second nature to be in each other’s lives. Like how you always made sure his glasses were clean before quidditch matches and he’d chuck his extra jersey at your face for you to wear.

“Stay warm during the game okay? I’ll see you later, love you!”

He skated around your waist, blowing a raspberry onto your cheek as he grabbed his glasses from your fingers.

“Don’t fall off your broom. Love you too, loser.” You’re already tugging his jersey over your head, inhaling his signature scent of broom polish, cinnamon, and Sleakeasy’s hair potion.

James smiled at you softly, before running to meet up with his team. After Gryffindor won again, he threw you over his shoulder and you laughed and yelled that he smelled like sweat. He always tucked you in his bed after parties, wrapping you in his arms once the lights go out. Without a doubt, he loves you.

—

Your friendship is stronger than most romantic relationships, and as your teenage years fly by, both of you realize how rare that is. He often took you to the kitchens to eat vanilla sundaes after boys broke your heart (and they got black eyes to match, courtesy of him and the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team) and you would listen to him, building him up and calming him down through years of pining over a certain Lily Evans. You were there for each other through everything, silly crushes, secret trysts, boring detentions, and highly esteemed accolades. If there ever were such a thing as soulmates, you knew it had to be him, even if it was platonic. Just being around someone as vibrant as James made you consider yourself lucky.

You once saw your best friend with his head in his hands on your way to a date—he was moping after a nasty prank on Snape went wrong; it ended in Lily crying and after defending her albeit quite boisterously in true James fashion, he still didn’t get the girl.

He gets up to see you walking down the corridor to meet him halfway, and before you even speak he rubs his eyes, posture shrinking as his towering frame melts into your embrace.

“Don’t know why I thought it’d be different this time,” he mumbles, and you gladly carry the weight of his heart.

“Let’s go swimming in the Black Lake, ” you say suddenly, rubbing his broad back in small circles.

“But peanut, you have a date in an hour! You’re all dolled up and pretty...”

“I’ll have more dates. You need me right now, jelly. I’ve got you.” His nickname makes you blush a little more than you should sometimes, so you only ever pull it out as a trick up your sleeve to make him feel better.

“Love you,” you whisper, brushing through the hair at the nape of his neck.

He breathes easily for the first time in hours, mouth curling up from its frown when he sees you walk straight into the lake water with your nicest clothes on, not even hesitating for a moment. Without a doubt, he loves you.

—

When James puts his mind to something, he sees it through. So years later, when your best friend asks you if you could go wedding ring shopping with him to propose to the love of his life, who were you to decline? I mean, who else would go with him?

“Come on, (Y/N). I need my best girl with me to make the biggest decision of my life.” he’s practically moaning, the man ever so dramatic as he’s sprawled across your couch.

“And why aren’t you dragging Sirius with you again?”

Your eyebrow is raised as you stand at his feet, lifting his burly legs for you to place yourself under and get comfortable.

“What does Sirius know about women? He’d tell me to get the shiniest one and leave!” James’ yells into your throw pillow, anguished at the thought. You pull it off his face, before he quietly admits, “I just want to get it right.”

“When are we going?” you answer, without missing a beat.

Later that week, the saleslady recommends a wide array of glimmering engagement bands, none of which are for you. But you let yourself fall into the fantasy of the what-ifs, flashing back to your flower crown and candy ring wedding, wondering if it could’ve been you getting proposed to by him in another life.

“Would you like to try a few on?” the saleslady asks, assuming you two are together.

“Show me and my girl your best. No price limit.” he grins.

And how dare she assume that, as he puts his head on your shoulder, whisking you around the store to look at stunning rings, fingers brushing, and the both of you being able to communicate clearly with no words spoken. James plays along with the saleslady, finally choosing a whimsical-looking diamond setting placed upon your left ring finger. You remind yourself it’s not yours. Your heart comes to a screeching halt and you can’t help but feel all of a sudden like he’s being mean.

After all, he’s not yours, not really.

There is a little bit of doubt now and a weird tightness in your chest that makes you think of the possibility that you’re in love with James Potter.

—

Like a good best friend, you help him plan his proposal. James’ love is loud, pulling all the stops, and preferring the grandest of gestures.

“James, you are not proposing to Lily with a flash mob.”

“But it would be so cool! After all, my heart dances every time I see her face.” he wiggles his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his butterbeer.

“Your heart might, but you, unfortunately, are the worst dancer I’ve ever seen.” You laugh, reaching over to tug the quill out of his hand, crossing it off his list. He pulls you into a headlock, kissing the side of your face teasingly.

“What would I ever do without you, peanut?”

You wipe James’ spit off your cheek, pushing his face away, blushing from his attention.

“Combust, probably.”

Your heart is dancing now too, and you realize that there isn’t a single doubt that you’re in love with your best friend.

—

You keep yourself busy in the month before his proposal. It hurt learning too many details, such as what flowers he wanted to order to bring out her eyes (pink and yellow tulips), and scouting out the perfect location on the beach he picked (next to the lighthouse you and him visited as kids), even down to how he’d convince Lily to wear white without being suspicious (honestly he just expected you to do him a favor for this one). But after seeing each other almost every day for more than half your life, he knew something was off when you became distant.

James shows up at your apartment, his key in hand, but he decides to knock anyway. The sound of the TV is muffled, lowering in volume until he hears your footsteps pad over to the door and it swings open. You’re in one of his old Quidditch sweaters and fluffy blue socks.

“Hey. Wasn’t expecting you to come by.” You smile timidly, as he leans against the doorframe peering down at you.

“Never used to have to tell you.”

“James...” you stutter, before awkwardly opening the door completely. He shuffles towards the couch, keeping his shoes on as he sits at the end, and there’s a certain tension in the air that frightens you. You’re not sure if you’ll come out of this one unscathed.

“Talk to me (Y/N). What’s been going on with you? You don’t answer my calls, you don’t write back, hell, I haven’t seen you in a month because you started deadbolting your door. Did I do something?”

Yes, James Potter. Ever so blunt and to the point, your favorite person in the world is sitting on your couch uncomfortable with the fact that you’re not comfortable around him anymore.

You fight back against your instincts to tell him what’s wrong, but the three words escape your mouth before you can even take a breath.

“I love you.”

It’s silent. The floor creaks as you shift your weight onto your other leg. You lock eyes with him for the first time that night, and so many things are going through your head that you hope he’s able to pick up on how you’ve been physically aching, carrying the weight of his love for Lily for years.

James looks like he’s about to shake his head, and you beat him to it. You don’t want pity, and he knows that, but he mutters a consolation into the air.

“It’ll pass.”

No, it won’t. Not this.

You think he knows that too. He smiles sadly, watching you turn shrinking into yourself. You never were good at thinking before you spoke. A tear drips down your cheek as you look at your socks again. Your love for him is too big and too loud for your chest cavity to handle. This love feels like dramatic choral music clashing and banging around in your ribs.

“I’m—”

“Don’t apologize. This one’s on me,” you say, stopping him before he finishes speaking.

Without a doubt, James Potter loves you. But he’s not in love with you.

“What I was going to say...is that I’m going to have to ask you not to show up to the engagement party. It’ll be better for the both of us. We can start again from there if you want... Peanut...”

The term of endearment hangs in the air. Your dancing heart was a ticking time bomb after all. The fragments hit your insides, tearing you apart as it combusts, and you realize that nothing will be the same after this.

James stands abruptly, shoving his hands in his pockets. He hesitates before he kisses your temple, and for some reason, this feels like a goodbye. After all, when James sets his mind on something, he sees it through. He’s been set on Lily for years.

You’re his best friend, he swears. And there are no words you can think of to deny that.

—

The End

“I don’t know what to say,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she replied. “I know what

we are— and I know what we’re not.”

Lang Leav

[verstappenf1lecccc]

hiya could you write something with Charles x reader where they get into a fight and he then gives her the silent treatment for a few days she tried to talk to him but he blanks her, she eventually cracks a few days later cause she thinks he doesn’t love her anymore and gets really upset infronto of him. But they do make up in the end make it angsty but with lots of fluff and makeup..

thank you for this ask!! I love for angst hope you like this first part!!

Invisible

3,797 Characters 693 Words 🎀

"Prick," the word flew so fast out of your mouth, it almost made you take a double take. You've never been one for profanities; your mother once heard a loud "fuck" come out of your lips and had soaped the hell out of your mouth. So when you did curse, Charles knew it was serious. It had been a week after Charles had revealed that he had decided to renew his contract with the Scuderia, safe to say, you were disappointed.

You've spent the entire winter break trying to convince Charles to move to Red Bull; this didn’t come out of thin air, it came out of Horner offering Charles a seat for the next season, to which Charles had hurriedly said, "I’ll think about it." As his wife, you really were concerned for his well-being and career. The Scuderia was not where it should be or where it was with the likes of Kimi or Michael. You just wanted Charles to have the opportunity to display his true talent. Especially after hearing Fred calling him a "washed-out nepo baby," your blood was boiling since you've heard that. Being with Charles was something you'd never thought you'd be capable of, but with years of convincing and efforts made by him, you couldn’t hold back and fell deeply and madly in love with him.

This was what ignited the first major fight in your relationship. A simple comment that you had made had pissed Charles off; he couldn’t understand why his wife, of all people did not get why he wanted to stay with Ferrari. It was more than a job for him; it was his whole existence.

He wanted to win a championship with Ferrari for Herve and for Jules more than anything. Your comment on how you thought his goal was unachievable with the team made him wonder if you doubted his moves and, most importantly, doubted him. Charles was never a yeller; he was always silent whenever you both had disagreements, always making sure you got your point across before he started. He was never a bad communicator, always making sure he didn’t make you feel less than or below him. But the Charles in this argument was not like the perfect husband he prides himself in being. This Charles was a proper prick, probably the worst he’s ever been.  You knew you had done something to upset him; you could tell from how fast he drove the car, how white his knuckles were, how he didn’t even spare you a glance as you got in the car, how he didn’t remind you to wear your seatbelt, and most importantly, how sharply his jaw was clenching.  You knew you were in for a huge fight; you were just wondering what you had said or done to make him this pissed.  The car rolled to a halt; Charles had just uttered his first words of the night, "go up", no mon angel, no love at the end of his sentence, just blunt words filled with bitter emotion.  You hurried up the stairs, almost tripping over your dress, the dress you wore for him.  When Charles finally entered the bedroom, he failed to notice your slightly shaking figure or your red eyes; all he saw when he saw you was failure.  He’d walked right past you, almost as if you were a wall; he knew what he was doing, he knew that you hated arguments but hated the silent treatment even more, it reminded you of your childhood and of never knowing what you were doing wrong to upset your mother.  That night the bed felt cold, even though you both were sleeping in it, the bed lacked the cuddles and warmth that emitted from the kisses you both often shared. It felt wrong; you tried to move towards your husband but you felt him move away, that was all it took for you to softly cry into your pillow.  You felt like your whole marriage was crumbling right before your eyes and you could do nothing to fix it. All because your husband had decided that you were invisible.

[lynnie-ee]

Inktober Day 3; Regrets.

╰┈➤"A relationship with Vil was all you could ever dream of, perfect and loving, but it seems like he doesn't want that anymore. Either way, he'll have to deal with the consequences of it; at some point, you had to move on, didn't you?."

╰►Gender neutral reader, oneshot, 1.6k words.

╰►Note: The prompts are based on words I found interesting and then I put them on a roulette to decide when I would write about them, lol. English is not my first language, so please let me know if there are any grammatical mistakes <3. Not proof read, I haven't written in a long time, so I apologise if anything is out of character.

╰►Masterlist / Inktober Masterlist.

���

⤿

Loving Vil was like staring at the moon on a starry night. Beautiful, elegant, gracefully glimmering above anything or anyone, surrounded by stars but never being outshined by them. A gentle light that kept them on the right path, and that took care of them tenderly.

But cold, nevertheless. Distant, stern, perfect; a chill running down their spine when they were in his presence, as if they weren’t worthy of admiring him so closely.

The Prefect was well aware of their own flaws, as they were sometimes clumsy, sometimes impulsive, and sometimes too tired at night to worry about a night routine. Seemingly out of place next to Vil, the personification of magnificence, always sharp and confident.

Even so, (Y/n) was able to discover a new side of him, something that wasn’t possible to see through movie premieres and Magicam posts.

They got close after VDC; with the entire situation of his overblot and all of his issues, the Prefect offered their support to him one day, casually offering to listen to him if he ever needed it.

At first, Vil didn’t reach them, but then, on a bad day, he unconsciously walked all the way to Ramshackle. The housewarden of Pomefiore realised that (Y/n)’s kindness was genuine; they hadn’t been in his world for long, they didn’t realise the amount of power and success he had, and instead they saw him for himself. Maybe that was what encouraged him to pursue them in more ways than he intended at first.

He found himself falling in the arms of a magicless human, grasping every new part of them he got to know and cherish each of the sincere compliments they gave him with adoration and care. Holding them close, kissing their worries away, making sure they were healthy and content.

They were doing good, together.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

No matter how much (Y/n) tried to find him, there was always an invisible wall between them.

“We should break up.”

“…What?”

“We won’t work out; you know it as well as me.”

It all started a few days ago. A call from his manager, asking him if he planned to reveal his relationship at some point. Actors with partners lose popularity. They lose roles more often. They lose followers. It usually lasted for a few months, of course, but could Vil risk his downfall? Shouldn’t it be more difficult for him to ever think about leaving the Prefect? Shouldn’t he feel a pang on his chest at the mere thought of not waking up next to them? Shouldn’t he be able to picture himself sharing a future with them?

‘Perhaps this is just a silly romance that will forgotten in a few years. They’ll come back to their world and I’ll continue working as diligently as always.’

“I don’t understand.” The Prefect muttered, looking into Vil’s eyes, searching for doubt or hesitation, a wave of sadness invading them when they found none of it. They felt dizzy, the air of Vil’s room suffocating them as his words settled in their mind.

“It’ll be the best, for the both of us.” The housewarden stated, his words sharp but his voice compassionate. “You have always trusted me, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” They replied immediately.

“Then trust me on this, too.” Vil replied, one of his hands cupping the cheeks of the Prefect. “Let’s be honest, we’re both tired-“

“I’m not.”

“(Y/n).”

“I love you.” They muttered, their voice breaking. Vil was wonderful, supportive, patient, someone they couldn’t image themselves living without, at least in that world where they had no one else. When did they lose him…? “Don’t you love me too?”

“Perhaps that’s not enough for us.”

“It can be, Vil, just let me in. Let me understand you.”

Vil observed them briefly, (Y/n) standing before him as a complete mess that he didn’t find himself capable of fixing. He didn’t have time to play around, nor to introduce them into his world. He had decisions to make.

“I’m not sure you’ll be able to. We’re…different.”

“Are you saying I’m not enough?”

“I’m saying we may be better on our own.”

The Ramshackle student removed his hand from their face, now standing to gaze into his eyes, his message clear in their mind as they realised Vil just didn’t want to deal with them anymore. They weren’t some kind of famous singer or a wealthy artist, they were just themselves. And Vil was Vil.

‘It was bound to happen, at some point’, they thought to reassure themselves.

“I’m not going to beg you for anything else, then.” They stated as firmly as they could, even if the tears on their cheeks could indicate something else. “But I love you sincerely, and you won’t find that easily. I hope you can find what you’re looking for by yourself.”

“I wish you well, (Y/n).”

“I don’t believe in your words anymore, Vil.”

⤿

⤿

Loving (Y/n) used to be like a bright morning on a sunny day. Warm, inviting, tender towards anyone who could turn towards them, never rejecting the opportunity of lending a hand to whoever needed it. A gentle light that kept him away from the darkest days.

Suffocating, at times, making him wish for the night to arrive just to find solace in the familiar cold.

He believed it’d be more comfortable, going back to his usual starry nights where he shined as brightly as always. The memories of his time with the Prefect going away in no time.

Except that it never happened.

He found himself waking up and looking around for them. At night, he kept in mind to remind the Prefect to clean their face and take care of their skin, only for him to remember that they weren’t staying with him anymore. At school, he didn’t have anyone to hold hands when no one else was looking. At work, he received multiple compliments about his efforts and looks, but none as sincere as (Y/n)’s words.

And (Y/n) seemed to have disappeared from every place he was in.

They were still in Night Raven College, of course, but no matter how much he looked for them or how many times he asked Epel about them, they seemed to do an excellent job at avoiding him.

“You were the one who did this, don’t go after them now.” The first-year replied to him on a particularly stressful day.

He couldn’t believe it; Him? Missing someone he took out of his life by himself? Wishing to be with a person who didn’t belong to this world? Who couldn’t understand him- No, who he didn’t allow to understand him?

Then the holidays began. He went back home, and worked as usual, doing campaigns and assisting events, as glamorous as always, never showing his pain.

“I heard you got the role of the main character for your next role! That’s amazing, you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” An older actress congratulated him in the middle of a charity party, as she seemed to be the best person to spend time amongst so many wealthy people and royals.

“Indeed. I’m very grateful to have this opportunity.” He answered politely.

“I’m excited to see how it’ll turn out- Oh, isn’t that the Prince of Sunset Savana? I haven’t seen him at an event in years.”

“What?”

Vil turned around, easily spotting Leona among so many people, but his attention was soon dragged to something else, or rather, someone else. Someone who walked along him, hand in hand. Someone who used to hold his hand before.

“(Y/n)…” He mumbled unconsciously.

They looked stunning, but it wasn’t as if they were ever bad-looking in the first place. They looked happy, peaceful even when they were surrounded by strangers who seemed as curious as him to know what was his relationship with the prince.

Perhaps Leona’s arm around their waist calmed down in such an unknown environment for them. Or maybe it was the words he whispered in their ear when they seemed to get uncomfortable.

Vil couldn’t even imagine that Leona could be attentive to someone else, but there he was, looking at (Y/n) with love, taking great pride in presenting them as his partner to anyone that asked him, no matter who was it.

“Prince Leona! It’s been so long, how have you been?” The actress that accompanied him asked the beastman as soon as they approached.

“I’ve been doing great, as you can see.” He replied, proudly holding (Y/n)’s hand.

“It’s so nice to know you have found such a beautiful partner, what’s your name, darling?”

“My name is (Y/n), is such a pleasure to meet you.”

“I can say the same! Vil, Leona is your classmate, right? Have you met his partner before?” The woman asked innocently, oblivious to Vil’s irritated mood, even though he tried to mask it.

“Well, we-“

“We meet briefly at Night Raven College, but we’re not really close.” (Y/n) interrupted, as Leona grinned quietly next to them. “And it’s been a nice conversation, but it’s getting quite late, isn’t it?”

“Do you want to leave?” Asked Leona with his regular tone, but even Vil was able to catch a certain fondness that was unusual in him.

“Yes, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course, Herbivore, let’s go home.”

“Goodbye then.” The Prefect spoke politely, gazing for the last time at him, his eyes now more confident than the last time he was able to look at them. “I hope you’re doing well, Vil.”

‘Well, perhaps I’m still stuck in the role of the villain, after all.'

⤿

⤿

[laurenairay]

Got me in the palm of your hand - M. Tkachuk

Summary: Wedding preparations are always emotional.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: mild angst

A/N: I love this song and I just felt inspired to write a little something. Enjoy!

Title from I don’t dance, by Lee Brice

~

I'll never settle down, That's what I always thought, Yeah, I was that kind of man, Just ask anyone, I don't dance, but here I am.

“How many more of these do we need to make?”

“Seeing as your family has about a 1000 people in it, we are barely a quarter way through,” you mused.

Taryn just groaned, throwing her head back dramatically.

“I love you, and I love Matty, but I am never doing this again,” she muttered.

“Hopefully I’ll never have to do it again either,” you teased.

That was the thing about weddings – there were a hundred things to do and nowhere near enough time to do them. Taryn had volunteered to come over to help you assemble the table centrepieces while Matthew and Brady went to pick up their tailored suits, and now that you’d finally sorted out the table plan, it was time to figure out decorations. It didn’t matter that Matthew was more than happy to splash the cash and hire professionals to take care of everything – there were just some things that needed a personal touch. Table centrepieces were easy enough, and what you’d been putting together wasn’t difficult, but with the amount of guests you’d invited? Turns out there were a lot of tables needing decorations.

“You know, I never thought he’d settle down,” Taryn said suddenly.

You inhaled sharply as her words sunk in, dread cutting through your body.

“What?”

You turned your head, frowning at your soon-to-be sister-in-law’s words.

“Do you want to elaborate on that, Taryn?” you said dryly, raising an eyebrow.

She flushed deeply, grimacing at your reaction, but you held firm. It wasn’t like you hadn’t known Matthew’s reputation when you’d first started dating him, the serial dater-and-heartbreaker, but to hear that from his sister? You couldn’t deny it stung a little.

“I really don’t know how to answer without digging myself a hole?” she admitted.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. You knew she wasn’t malicious or spiteful or even mean, but you needed more than that.

“I need you to say something, Tar, because right now my head is saying that this is Matty’s way of sneakily saying that he doesn’t want to get married.”

Because that was exactly what you were preparing for right now – the wedding that was only a month away. So the last thing you needed was the doubt that Matthew wasn’t as all in as you were – you needed to know.

“Oh my god, no, no way,” Taryn said quickly, shaking her head, “He absolutely 100% wants to marry you. That isn’t it at all.”

You let out a breath that was far shakier than you thought it would be and nodded. That was a slight relief at least. Still, you waited her out, needing her to finish her thoughts before you spiralled all over again. Matthew held your whole heart and for that brief moment that heart had started to crumble. Nothing had ever felt like that before.

“Matthew is a hopeless romantic at his core,” she eventually said, “You know that, everyone knows that. But he had such high standards for the person he envisioned spending the rest of his life with that I guess he figured he’d never find that perfect person, so he just dated casually, right?”

“Okay…”

You could see where she was going with this, so you nodded your encouragement.

“He dated casually, and often less than even calling it dating, all things I know you two have already talked about because he told me and Brady that he’d told you it all. It turned into him putting on a front, creating this image of someone who wasn’t a romantic, who didn’t invest himself in any relationship and it sucked seeing him that way. We just wanted him to be happy, you know? So when he started talking about you? We knew something had changed.”

“Really?” you found yourself asking.

Taryn grinned widely, making you laugh. “Yeah, really really. It took him a while, I’ll admit, old habits and all I suppose, but when he properly started talking about you? About all the dates and how beautiful you were and the way you were clearly filling all the voids in his life? Me and Brady were buzzing. When he finally told mom about you after that date he took you dancing? That was it, I knew you were it for him. He never dances for anyone. So yeah, I never thought he’d settle down because he wanted that fairytale. But he’s found that with you.”

The tears that filled your eyes didn’t hesitate to trickle down your cheeks, a soft whimper tearing from your throat before you could stop it. No-one had ever told you that’s how Matthew had spoken about you. And that was when she knew you were it for Matthew? That was years ago.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Please don’t tell Matty I made you cry,” Taryn said, panicking.

“Happy tears, I promise. Happy tears,” you replied, shaking your head.

You wiped your face with sleeves, no doubt smearing mascara everywhere, laughing wetly as you tried to compose yourself. It didn’t matter how long you’d known the Tkachuk family – one of them always managed to catch you off-guard. And to think, soon enough, you’d be one of them.

Wasn’t that a thought?

“I’m really sorry. I’ve made an ass of myself and I really didn’t mean to,” Taryn mumbled.

That self-deprecating look on her face was so familiar that it made your chest ache, and you wasted no time in pulling her into a hug. Taryn immediately hugged you back, firm and loving, a Tkachuk family trait, making you laugh softly.

“I think this calls for a drink,” you said, once you’d eventually pulled away.

“Shit yeah, I’ll get us some beers.”

As Taryn walked out of the room, you unlocked your phone, tapping through to your message thread with Matthew.

To: Matty I love you. So much.

You didn’t have to wait long for a reply, phone buzzing within minutes.

From: Matty I love you more. So much more than Brady. He keeps whining that he’s hungry even though we ate two hours ago. How do you feel about sushi for dinner? I can pick up your favourites on my way home?

Yeah you really couldn’t wait to marry this man.

~

Spinnin' you 'round and 'round in circles, It ain't my style, but I don't care, I'd do anything with you anywhere, Yes, you got me in the palm of your hand, 'Cause I don't dance.

[desertskiespodcast]

The first half of Desert Skies season 1 was made in a large hollow room, the latter half was made in a very unsturdy uncomfortable blanket fort.

The mic I use goes for $100 brand new which is nothing compared to many, and I’ll replace it with the same one if it ever breaks.

First episodes I ever made were made using free software, and the only reason I use a different software now is because it’s part of the Adobe subscription I have for other products I need. They both do the exact same things.

I never worked in sound engineering and still have no idea what half the things I do to clean up the audio are actually doing. I don’t understand the terms. I press buttons till it sounds right.

I never wrote a fiction script in my life. I didn’t finish college. I’m in recovery from a serious mental illness and have been for many years.

I’m ridiculously unorganized.

I didn’t have time to make a show. I operated at a loss for nearly a year and after that only made enough to pay for my hosting fees and software. I had a family I supported and they’re loud (but I love them).

I did it without a team. I did it without previous voice acting experience or other actors. I did it with massive amounts of self-doubt. I played every character.

I did it anonymously for like the first 6 episodes because of how afraid I was.

I took 3 month breaks between some episodes and then would have 2 episodes release back to back. At multiple points people thought my season had ended. It took me almost a year and a half to finish my 13 episode season

I still made it after some really mean reviews. And after constantly being compared (often kindly. often negatively) to a massive show I’d never heard of.

I made it after all the articles saying I’d never get listens because the podcast world is flooded. I continued making it after I found out I wasn’t doing something new, that there were like 8,000 other shows in the category.

Next month DS is on track to hit 1 million downloads.

I’m so glad I made it. It’s brought me so much joy. And I write none of this to brag, but I’m damn proud of what I’ve accomplished.

I’m just here to tell you this:

THERE ARE NO RULES

THERE ARE NO RULES

THERE ARE NO RULES

You can make one or a hundred shows if you want to, because there are no rules

You can make it by yourself or make your grandma voice act for you, because there are no rules

You can record it on a cassette tape and mail it to random addresses, because there are no rules

You can make it for one person, or for yourself, because there are no rules

You can make it a found footage or a full cast or improvise it or release one episode a year for a decade, because there are no rules

You can advertise it, or make social accounts, or don’t. There are no rules

You can record it into your phone, or your moms phone, or into a Talkboy because there are no rules

The only thing you can’t do is never make it. That’s not allowed

[onlinesuzie]

♡ more than just playing minecraft with hamzah ♡

words: 3k

genre: fluff

summary: You and Hamzah had been playing Minecraft together for a while but when you finally video call you start to realise that the flirty conversations could lead to something more.

notes: i love this idea so much, and wanted to write about a nervous little gamer hamzah for a while!!

☆

The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm glow over your room as you settled into your gaming chair, the familiar setup glowing softly in front of you. The headphones fit snugly over your ears, and the familiar “ping” of a message from Hamzah brought a smile to your face.

hamzahthefantastic: are you ready to play?

You chuckled, fingers dancing over the keyboard as you replied.

You: i always am!!

You had met Hamzah months ago on a random Minecraft server, and what started as a simple gaming night to distract yourself had now turned into a close friendship. Countless hours had been spent building, exploring, and mining on your own little SMP. Hamzah had a way of making even all the boring stuff so entertaining, his humor and stupid way of describing the game had meant that you had been playing every night.

The best times with Hamzah were the late-night talks when the rest of the world was asleep, and the game was forgotten. Hamzah opened up about his life, his goals for his channel, and his struggles in a way that felt so genuine. You found yourself looking forward to these conversations more than anything else, your heart racing whenever Hamzah’s name lit up your screen.

Recently, though, something had shifted. It was subtle, but undeniable. The easy conversation had begun to carry a weight of something more. You had caught yourself thinking about Hamzah more often, wondering what he looked like, imagining the expression behind the voice you had come to know so well.

As you were about to load the game, another message from Hamzah popped up, catching you off guard.

hamzahthefantastic: okay so i’ve got an idea, its okay if you don’t want to do it

You: oh no, should i be worried

hamzahthefantastic: no no! how about we like call tonight but with our cameras on?

hamzahthefantastic: i don’t know like we’ve been talking for so long, i feel like we should finally see each other

Your heart skipped a beat. You had thought about suggesting it yourself more than once, but nerves always got the better of you. Now, with Hamzah being the one to bring it up, the nervous feeling you’d been suppressing came rushing back.

You: i’d love to hamzah!!

hamzahthefantastic: thank god, i’m just curious to put a face to the voice, you know

The idea of finally seeing Hamzah’s face both excited and terrified you. What if he didn’t like what he saw? What if this changed things between you?

You hesitated for a moment, then pushed the doubts aside. You can’t back down now.

You: when do you want to

hamzahthefantastic: i’ll call you in a few

With the Minecraft world loaded and ready in the background, you couldn’t help the nervous energy buzzing through you as you prepared for the call. Your mind raced with what-ifs and half-formed thoughts.

Shaking off the doubts, you took a deep breath as your computer began playing the familiar tune of the incoming call appearing on your monitor. The screen flickered as it connected, and then there he was—Hamzah, the voice you had known so well, now accompanied by a face.

The first thing you noticed was his hair—thick, brown, and curly, disheveled around his face somehow so perfectly. His skin was a warm olive tone, and as he smiled shyly at the camera, your heart pounded in his chest. Those brown eyes, so full of life and warmth, met yours, and for a moment, you forgot how to speak.

“Hey,” Hamzah greeted, his voice slightly softer than usual, a hint of nervousness creeping in.

“Hey,” you replied, trying to keep your own voice steady. “So.. this is what you look like.”

Hamzah laughed, the sound making your stomach flutter. “Yeah, this is me. You’re not too disappointed, are you?”

Your mouth went dry as you took him in, from his muscular build visible even through the screen to the way his teeth gleamed when he smiled. He was more than you had imagined—so much more.

“No No! Not at all,” you managed to say, your voice betraying just a hint of the awe you felt. “You’re… definitely not what I expected.”

“Good or bad?” Hamzah asked, tilting his head slightly, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Definitely good,” you replied, your cheeks heating up. “Way better than good, actually.”

Hamzah’s confident exterior seemed to waver at the compliment, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. He looked away from the camera for a moment, clearly flustered. “Thanks,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed but trying to brush it off with a laugh. “I mean I could say the same about you, you are so...beautiful, is that weird to say?”

You smiled, feeling a warm glow across your face. You’d been curious about what Hamzah looked like, but now that you knew, it felt like you could never go back to just calling. The face on the screen wasn’t just a voice or a friend—he was someone you could see yourself really falling for.

And as the conversation flowed from that moment on, just as it always did, you couldn’t help but wonder if Hamzah was feeling the same way.

The first call with Hamzah had gone even better than you could have imagined. The initial nerves had quickly went away, replaced by the familiar conversation that you both had already perfected over countless hours of gaming. But now, there was something different—an extra layer of connection that made every smile, every laugh, every glance feel more meaningful.

After that call, it became a regular part of your routine. You still played Minecraft together, but now you did so while seeing each other’s faces. The game became a backdrop to your conversations, a way to stay connected while exploring topics far beyond the blocky world on your screens.

Hamzah was now more than just someone you played Minecraft with—he was becoming someone you could confide in. He had this way of asking questions that made you open up, sharing pieces of yourself that you hadn’t shown to many people. And he did the same, revealing parts of his life that you hadn’t known before.

You’d talk about everything—your families, your lives, your favorites of anything. But there were also the quieter moments, the ones where neither of you felt the need to fill the silence. Those moments spoke louder than words ever could, and in them, you felt a growing relationship that made you feel warm all over.

One evening, as the two of you wandered through your Minecraft world, Hamzah leaned closer to the camera, his brown eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Okay, so hear me out,” he began, “I’ve been thinking about building this massive castle. Like, with those secret rooms, underground tunnels, the whole thing. What do you think?”

You smiled at his enthusiasm, watching as his curls bounced slightly with each gesture. “That sounds amazing,” you said, feeling your heart flutter at how passionate he was. “But only if we make it an actual project. I want it to be cute so please no ugly dirt towers.”

Hamzah grinned, his lips looking so soft, something that you hadn’t noticed before. “Ugh fine. It’s going to be so cool.”

As you started planning the castle, discussing everything from the type of stone to use to where the hidden passages would lead, you couldn’t help but be distracted by him. The way his eyes lit up when he was excited, the sound of his laughter when you teased him about his ambitious plans—it all made you feel an excitement that had nothing to do with the game and everything to do with him.

The more time you spent on these calls, the harder it became to ignore the way you felt about Hamzah. He was kind, funny, and ridiculously attractive without even trying. And every time he smiled at you through the screen, you found yourself falling a little more.

You hadn’t told him how you felt—partly out of fear, partly because you were content with the way things were. But deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder if Hamzah might feel the same way.

Then it was that Friday.

It was the evening, and you and Hamzah had just finished a particularly intense gaming night. Your characters were resting in a makeshift spruce house, and you both were still catching your breath from a surprise mob ambush that had left you laughing and shouting at the screen.

“That was insane,” Hamzah said, his grin wide and infectious. “I thought we were done for when those creepers showed up.”

“Honestly, same,” you laughed, leaning back in your chair. “But we made it through, thanks to me and you I guess.”

Hamzah shrugged, trying to play it cool, but you could tell he was pleased with the compliment. “Thank you thank you”

“Right,” you agreed, feeling that familiar comfort spread through you.

Just then, there was a noise on Hamzah’s end— voices you didn’t recognize, speaking in the background. Hamzah glanced off-screen, his expression shifting from relaxed to slightly annoyed.

“Hang on,” he said, raising a finger as if to pause the conversation. “Martin and Mandy are here. Let me just…” He trailed off as he turned away from the camera, clearly intending to mute his mic, but the sound of his voice continued to come through.

You heard the voice again, now more clearly. “Girl, are you still on with her?”

“Yeah, just finishing up,” Hamzah replied, his tone casual.

“You’re so lucky, man,” Mandy said, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. “She’s beautiful, like seriously. How did you even pull this off?”

You froze, your heart pounding as you realized what you were hearing. Hamzah had forgotten to mute himself, and now you were hearing a conversation you were never meant to hear.

Hamzah let out a soft, almost embarrassed laugh. “I know, right? I can’t believe it either. I’m really lucky. She’s just… incredible.”

Your face felt hot, your thoughts a whirlwind. Hamzah thought you were beautiful? And incredible? You could hardly believe what you were hearing. Part of you wanted to jump in and let him know that you could hear every word, but another part of you didn’t want to break the moment. It was as if everything you’d been wondering about, all the doubts and questions, had just been answered in one accidental confession.

Martin’s voice cut through your thoughts. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

Hamzah sighed, a mix of frustration and uncertainty in the sound. “I don’t know, man. I want to say something, but I don’t want to mess it up. What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

You swallowed hard, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. Hamzah wasn’t just your friend—he was someone who cared about you, who was scared of losing what you had. And in that moment, you knew that whatever happened next, you didn’t want to lose him either.

Before you could decide whether to speak up, Hamzah’s attention snapped back to the camera. “Martin, get out of here, you too Mandy” he said, this time making sure to mute the call as he dealt with his friends.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you watched Hamzah return to the screen, his expression back to its usual playful self.

“Sorry about that,” he said, shaking his head. “They’re always showing up at the worst times.”

You smiled, the warmth in your chest now mixed with a newfound confidence. You knew now, without a doubt, that Hamzah saw you as more than just a friend. And even though he didn’t know you had overheard, you felt closer to him than ever.

But instead of revealing what you’d heard, you decided to let things unfold naturally. There was no rush—you had time, and you wanted to savor every moment of this friendship, letting it grow at its own pace.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “I’m just glad we survived that though.”

Hamzah grinned, clearly relieved that you hadn’t seemed to notice anything unusual. “Same here. So, what’s next? More building, or are we calling it a night?”

You leaned forward, your heart still racing but your mind clear. “Let’s keep going. I think our castle could use a little more work.”

The castle was finally taking shape, with its towering walls and hidden rooms, all meticulously planned and built. You and Hamzah had spent hours perfecting every detail, and now, as the virtual sun began to set over your Minecraft world, you both stepped back to admire your work.

“Look at that,” Hamzah said, his voice filled with pride. “We actually did it.”

“Yeah, we did,” you agreed, smiling at the screen. “It’s perfect.”

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, quietly appreciating what you’d created together. But as the virtual day faded to night, so did your energy. You stifled a yawn, the late hour finally catching up to you.

“Hey,” you said softly, “I think I’m going to log off for the night. It’s getting pretty late.”

Hamzah hesitated, and you noticed the slight shift in his expression—a reluctance, as if he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye yet. “Yeah, me too,” he finally said, though his voice lacked its usual enthusiasm. “But… do you think we could still stay on the call for a bit? You know, just talk?”

His request took you by surprise, though it wasn’t completely unexpected. Over the past few days, you’d grown accustomed to your late-night conversations, the ones that stretched long after the game had ended. There was something comforting about those quiet moments when it was just the two of you, the world around you fading into the background.

But tonight, you were exhausted, and the idea of lying in bed while still on call was tempting. You bit your lip, considering how to phrase your response.

“I’d love to,” you said gently, “but I’m getting ready for bed, so I’ll have to turn off my camera. Is that okay?”

There was a brief pause on Hamzah’s end, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Yeah, that’s okay. I just… I’ll miss your face, that’s all.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, the unexpected vulnerability catching you off guard. Hamzah rarely let his guard down like this, and it was clear that he was nervous about admitting how he felt.

“Hamzah,” you said, smiling even though he couldn’t see you, “I’ll miss seeing you too. But I’m still here, even if you can’t see me.”

There was a soft, almost shy chuckle from his end. “I know, I know. It’s just… different, you know? Seeing you there, it just… makes me you know… happy.”

His words made your heart swell, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of affection for him. “You make me happy too,” you replied, your voice warm and sincere.

Another pause, and then Hamzah spoke again, his tone a mix of relief and embarrassment. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it weird. I just… I really like talking to you.”

“You didn’t make it weird,” you assured him, your heart aching at how sweet and genuine he was. “I like talking to you too. That’s why I’m still here.”

There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Instead, it was filled with understanding.

Finally, Hamzah let out a deep breath, as if he’d been holding it in. “Okay, well… I’ll let you get ready for bed. But don’t log off just yet, okay? I want to hear your voice a little longer.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised.

With that, you turned off your camera and set your phone down, the screen now dark but still connected to Hamzah. You moved about your room, getting ready for bed while Hamzah kept talking, his voice a comforting presence in the background. He told you about his day, about something funny that had happened with Martin, and about a new game he thought you might like.

As you climbed into bed, you found yourself listening more to the sound of his voice than to the actual words. There was something soothing about it, something that made you feel safe and content. You closed your eyes, imagining his face even though you couldn’t see it.

“Hey,” Hamzah said after a while, his voice quieter now. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, already feeling yourself drifting off. “I’m here.”

He chuckled softly. “You sound tired. Maybe I should let you sleep.”

“Maybe,” you agreed, though you didn’t really want to end the call. “But I don’t mind. I like listening to you.”

There was a pause, and then Hamzah spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I like listening to you too. I could do this every night.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart flutter, and you smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “Maybe we will,” you whispered back.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Maybe we will.”

And with that, you let the comforting sound of Hamzah’s voice carry you into sleep, knowing that when you woke up, he’d still be there—maybe not physically, but in the connection you shared, one that was growing stronger with every conversation.

As your breathing evened out, Hamzah listened to the silence on the other end of the call, a small smile playing on his lips. He didn’t say anything else, not wanting to wake you. Instead, he just stayed on the line for a little while longer, content to know that you were there, even if you weren’t awake to hear him.

And as he finally hung up the call, he couldn’t help but feel that something special was beginning to take shape, something that went beyond the game, beyond the screen—something lovely with Hamzah.

[varyajc]

Can you do the Hashiras with a partner who is an ex dancer that is very flexible and fast? They became a hashira very quickly and were usually quiet until they became comfortable with the hashiras😺 it can be nsfw or sfw🍕🦄🐺

HASHIRA HEADCANONS

CONFESSING TO AN EX-DANCER - Sanemi Shinazugawa, Giyu Tomioka, Shinobu Kocho, Mitsuri Kanroji, and Kyojuro Rengoku

a/n; UGH, THANK YOU FOR THE ASK! These are just headcanons for now since I’m working on a Sanemi fic! (I was originally going to do them dating, but I decided to do confessing, why? Because..I dunno. Pls lmk if you wanted something different!) I’m going to be real here, I don’t write for demon characters often, so this might be out of character. Forgive me.

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA

~When you first became a Hashira, he didn’t exactly care for you. He simply thought you were another Hashira, so why the fuss?

~However, you thought he disliked you, which somewhat let you to also distancing yourself from him.

~Soon, you found yourself becoming close with the other Hashira besides Sanemi.

~You attempt to make a conversation with him, getting nowhere.

~Despite all this, you still attempt to speak with him, go on missions, etc. He soon found you quite..alluring? Your voice was extremely soft, you’re good what you do, and even took notice of your physical abilities.

~I wouldn’t say he was exactly impressed, but it did catch his attention somehow.

~Then when he finally took notice of your skills, I would say his respect for you went up more. That’s when he decided to finally make an effort to somewhat form a friendship? He was hesitant to try and become friends, so he stubbornly figured he could at least speak with you more.

~After a while, he devolved a crush on you. Why? Because of your unshakeable character, how attached you are to your family, and is very intelligent.

~He confesses to you, and oh my, he’s so awkward. He’s stumbling over his words, his hands are shaking, whilst his eyes are bloodshot and pupils incredibly small.

~To his surprise, you say yes to dating him, which catches him off guard but also makes him the happiest man on earth.

~The rest is history.

GIYU TOMIOKA

~When you first became a hashira, like Sanemi, Giyu didn’t exactly take notice of you.

~Whenever you tried to speak with Giyu, he’d just stay silent and listen, and after you finished, he walks away without another word.

~You’d speak to Tomioka normally, with you doing the talking.

~However, when you two went on a mission, he finally saw you in action. He wasn’t exactly like mind-blown impressed, just respected you more as a Hashira rather than someone who’s just there.

~However, you started to show interest in him. It was very subtle, but he was very overwhelmed by the way you attempted to give him affection.

~I’m extremely doubtful that Giyu would be the one to confess, I think you would confess. However, he doesn’t accept your confession, in fear he’d hurt you or lose you.

~I feel like he’d use an excuse. “Give me more time.”

~I don’t see Giyu dating anybody..unless; They defend him, go out of their way to speak with him, and definitely gives him space whenever he needs it.

~And when he does reluctantly agrees to date with you, I’ll just say he’s comfortable..for now.

SHINOBU KOCHO

~When you appeared as a Hashira, she was pleased that another one has been added to the mix.

~I can see her making an effort speaking with you, she’s quite pleasant and that’ll make you feel more comfortable around her.

~You guys speak fairly often, often going on missions together, even. She was also shocked to see you being so..flexible and quicker than her.

~However, when you started to show interest in her, she noticed it IMMEDIATELY.

~I can see her confessing, but I feel you’ll crack first and confess. She’s not opposed to the idea of dating you, but you two are hashira, remember that, so you have to somewhat keep the public affection subtle.

(I can’t write for her, I’m so sorry if this is out of character.)

MITSURI KANROJI

~I just know she’s excited she has a new comrade to speak with! I can see her totally speaking to you first, as you are very shy.

~Her bubbly personality makes you most likely open up to her immediately, I guess I can say you feel somewhat safe around her.

~You guys eat together all the time, go out to eat, train together, send each-other letters. I can see herself making hand-made gifts for you as well.

~I can see her falling for you easily, your angelic face and soft voice makes her melt.

~She confesses to you, and she ends up crying of happiness when you accept her confession.

~The love you both have for each-other is so beautiful, you two spend even more time together after you two become official.

KYOJURO RENGOKU

~I know Rengoku would go up to you first, with his loud, booming, voice of his.

~The more he approaches you, the more you warm up and start being more relaxed around him rather than tense whenever you hear his loud voice.

~I can see the more you two interact, the more you two want to spend time with each-other. (In a friendly matter.)

~However, the more time you two spend with each-other, the more you start slowly start falling for Kyojuro.

~Does he notice? No. I feel like he’d be completely oblivious to any romantic interest shown in him, even when you give hints!

~This man is completely shocked when you confess to him, doesn’t accept confession right away because he know if he likes you like THAT.

~After a while, he does chose to date you, and long story short, I’ll say you two are happy..for now.

@varya-jc - DO NOT TRANSLATE, REPOST, OR CLAIM MY CONTENT AS YOUR OWN! YOU WILL GET BLOCKED AND REPORTED. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

a/n: can you tell I got lazy at the end? Wtv, I need 🍃 + 🚬

[fatkish]

Heyy, if you dont mind. Could you do a dazawa oneshot in which he has a daughter and he found out she selfharms? Like, he finds her doing it. Practicly hurt/confort

Thanks, have a nice day

(Write it only if you feel comftable with it)

Aizawa x Daughter Reader

(Trigger Warning: the following contains mentions of self harm. If you’re sensitive to that please be advised)

Aizawa is a very busy man. And he’s also a very observant man as well as tired. As his daughter, you try to lighten his workload by helping and doing what you can. Every morning you make bento lunches as well as breakfast for the both of you. If you accidentally cut yourself then you just put a bandage on. Nothing too suspicious. You’re also in the hero course so it’s normal to be a little banged up. Aizawa knows that you’re a good cook but even the best sometimes make mistakes so he isn’t too worried.

You tend to cut yourself and hide them beneath bandages and other small items like watches and such. You had done really well at hiding them. You tried to not do it too often, but as your stress increased, so did your cutting. Eventually you were ‘clumsy’ too often but Aizawa chalked it up to you not getting enough sleep and told you to only make breakfast in the morning and stop making lunches since the school has lunches, so you could get more sleep. If that wasn’t enough then you guys could pick up breakfast.

But even so, the bandages being to stay longer, get bigger. Aizawa knew something wasn’t adding up but what was it? Late one night, Aizawa got home and knocked on your door, opening it only to see you with an Exacto knife at your wrist and multiple cuts. Aizawa’s eyes widened at the sight as the entire world stopped for a moment as he watched the blood drip from the cuts. Silentlyhe walked in and entered your bathroom, and came out with the first aid kit.

He opened it and sat down next to you. Taking the knife from you and without saying a word, he began to clean and treat the cuts before he bandages them. You were worried as he wasn’t saying anything but as you went to ask him something he spoke.

“Do you want to talk about why you’re doing this?”

“I-“

“It’s okay, you can tell me anything. If you need me to fix an issue then I’ll do that, if you just need to talk then I’ll just listen. If you’re uncomfortable with talking to me then we can find someone else for you to talk to. “

He spoke softly as he cleaned and rebandaged all the older cuts. Once he finished he set everything down and looked at you with teary eyes. He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly as he kissed your forehead.

“I love you so much. I hope you know that. I’m sorry that you’re going through this but just know that I’m here for you no matter what. You’re my little girl and you’ll always be my little girl. Now, let’s go have some ice cream and maybe watch a movie, or we can just talk if you’re up for that?”

As he stood up and held a hand out to you to help you up off your bedroom floor you looked at him as he turned to leave.

“Aren’t you mad?”

“I’m not mad, I’m sad, yes, but I’m not angry at you. I know that you’re going through something. I’m just upset that I didn’t realize this sooner. You know you can talk to me about anything. Even girl stuff like boys and periods. But I doubt you’d want to talk to your old man about that stuff.” He smiled softly at you as you gave a soft chuckle.

“Dad, you’re not old”

“I know, now c’mon, let’s go”

He motioned for you to follow him as you walked into the kitchen. He pulled a container of your favorite ice cream out of the freezer and scooped some into a bowl before handing the bowl to you. He then scoped a bit out for himself before putting the ice cream back and joining you on the couch in the living room. That night you ate ice cream and snuggled with your dad in his lap as he held you, your head resting on his shoulder as he rubbed your back.

You talked to him about how you were feeling and why. He nodded and stayed calm, listening carefully and reassuring you that he loves you. You ended up falling asleep on his lap. He then carried you back up to your room and laid you down in your bed before pulling the covers over you and kissing your forehead goodnight.

The next morning, you and him, removed all the sharp objects from your room and put them in a box so you wouldn’t have the temptation. Aizawa helped you cook breakfast that morning. (Meaning he mostly watched and drank his coffee as you cooked since he was so tired) you both then left for school.

[flowerchild28]

Can you write about Louis having a bad cold and the reader takes care of him?

Sure love. Hope you like it :)

Sick days

Louis Tomlinson imagine

Warnings: fluff, louis beeing sick

1.2k

It was just after sunrise, and the chilly autumn morning crept through the crack in the window. Y/N padded into the kitchen, yawning as she started her usual routine: coffee, breakfast, and then waking up Louis, who had been up late recording the night before. Today, though, she was greeted by the sight of Louis sitting slouched over the counter, a tissue balled up in his hand, eyes barely open, his nose red and sniffly.

“Oh no, a sniffle?” she teased, hiding her smirk behind her mug. “Are you sure you’re not coming down with the man cold?”

Louis shot her a weak glare, but it only made her grin. He sounded stuffy and nasally as he tried to respond, “I’m seriously sick, love.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter. “Let me guess, sore throat? Bit of a cough? Slight fever?”

“Yeah,” he said, sounding rather wounded. “All of the above, actually.” He sniffled loudly, dabbing at his nose with the tissue.

“Oh no, that sounds awful,” she said dramatically. “But, I mean, it’s just a little cold, right?”

He scowled, his usual humor barely peeking through his obvious misery. “You wouldn’t understand. This is… this is the worst cold.”

“Sure it is, Lou,” she replied with a chuckle, ruffling his messy hair. “You’re gonna be fine. I’ll get you some tea, and we’ll carry on.”

That morning, she busied herself making him some ginger tea, handing him a warm blanket, and plopping him down on the couch. He looked half asleep as he mumbled his thanks and sipped at the tea, nestling down into the blanket.

“You’ll be back to singing and cracking jokes in no time,” she said, giving him a quick peck on the forehead. He mumbled something about it feeling like the end, which she just laughed off, rolling her eyes. “Poor baby,” she said with exaggerated sympathy.

But by evening, Y/N started to suspect it might actually be worse than she thought. Louis, who usually bounced back from everything, was still huddled up on the couch, face pale, with dark circles under his eyes. He’d barely spoken all day, and every so often, he’d let out a sad little cough that tugged at her heart.

“Alright, alright, maybe you’re actually sick,” she admitted, sitting next to him and taking his hand. “Anything I can get you?”

Louis looked up at her with a pitiful expression, his voice scratchy. “Just… stay here?”

She softened, brushing a hand across his forehead. “Of course. And, okay, I’m sorry for doubting you, okay?”

He let out a weak laugh. “Aha, see? Told ya. This is not your average cold.”

She settled in beside him, wrapping his blanket more securely around his shoulders. Over the next few days, his cold only seemed to worsen, and she could tell by the way he tried to smile through his discomfort that he didn’t want to worry her. But even his usual playful energy had waned, and it was hard to see him like that.

One afternoon, as Louis slept soundly under layers of blankets, Y/N busied herself making him a hearty soup. She chopped vegetables and simmered everything on low heat, filling the house with a warm, cozy aroma. She even prepared a care basket—stuffed with extra tissues, honey for his tea, and some lozenges.

As soon as he woke, she was by his side, holding a steaming bowl. “Look what I made you,” she said softly, placing the bowl carefully on his lap. “A nice, warm soup. You’ll be back to yourself soon.”

He smiled at her, the kind of lazy, drowsy grin that made her heart melt. “You’re amazing, y’know that?”

“Well,” she said, grinning, “I have to be to deal with all this.” She gestured to him dramatically, earning a little chuckle.

“Hey, I thought you liked taking care of me,” he teased, though his voice was raspy.

“I do,” she admitted with a smile. “Especially when you’re this helpless.”

The two of them laughed, and he sipped the soup gratefully, nodding as he tasted it. “Alright, you’re forgiven for all the ‘man cold’ jokes,” he said between bites. “This soup is top-tier.”

She snorted. “Oh, now you’re complimenting me. Desperate times, I suppose.”

But despite the teasing, Y/N stayed by his side, checking his temperature, pressing cool cloths to his forehead when his fever spiked, and even humoring him as he rambled on in his slightly delirious state. He’d joke here and there, sometimes breaking into laughter that quickly turned into a cough, which she’d soothe by rubbing his back and handing him his tea.

By the time a few more days had passed, Louis had started to bounce back, the color returning to his cheeks and his voice losing that scratchy edge.

One morning, he finally came into the kitchen on his own, looking slightly more alive, and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “I have to admit,” he murmured, his voice still a bit husky, “I might’ve milked it a bit.”

She turned around to face him, her mouth open in playful shock. “You milked it?”

“Just a little,” he admitted, grinning as he leaned against the counter. “I mean, it’s nice having you fuss over me like that.”

She laughed, giving him a light punch on the arm. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Ah, don’t act like you didn’t love it,” he said, his usual spark coming back into his eyes. “Admit it, you felt bad for making fun of me.”

“Alright, alright,” she said with a sigh. “Maybe just a little. I’ll admit, I probably underestimated the almighty ‘man cold.’”

“See? I knew it,” he said, chuckling. “Don’t worry, love, you’re forgiven.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, wrapping her arms around him. “Well, next time you’re the one making soup for me.”

“Oh, absolutely. You can count on it,” he promised, grinning. “I’ll go all out—soup, tissues, even singing you lullabies if that’s what it takes.”

“Oh no, not the singing,” she said, laughing. “You’d be getting me out of bed in no time.”

He laughed, pulling her close. “Alright, maybe I’ll just stick to soup.”

They shared a long look, and she leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling his warmth now that he was back to his usual self. And as she stood there in his embrace, Y/N knew that no matter how dramatic he might get with the next “man cold,” she’d be there, soup and tissues at the ready.

[videovamptramp]

the great war pt 1

natasha romanoff x fem reader

warnings: if you count flirting as cheating then nats a cheater 🤡, angst, breakups, idk why i can never write fluffy shit…, kinda mean nat?, natasha’s a bad girlfriend but she means well.

(part 2 will be uploaded on saturday or sunday morning depending on where u live! i already have it written, just need to revise and edit 😊)

//

natasha knows treating you the way she has isn’t enough. she knows she’s doing almost everything wrong in the relationship. she doesn’t understand intimacy too well (if not at all), she barely grasps the concept of monogamy (it doesn’t help that she flirts with almost every woman she meets), and she doesn’t understand you at all. sometimes, you feel like she doesn’t even try. above all of that, natasha has never even told you that she loves you. it’s been two and a half years, and she’s never said it. some days, natasha racks her brain trying to figure out why you haven’t left yet.

natasha loves you. she knows this, though she doesn’t know if you do. she wonders if you know just how much she loves you; how she often craves those gentle touches of yours that only you can give her. you read her so well, she never even has to ask, you just know. whenever she’s had a bad day or a tough mission, you somehow know. whenever she wakes up craving pancakes, there you are making pancakes without her even saying anything about it. it’s funny, wanda maximoff is the mind reader, but you seem to be the only one who can truly read natasha romanoff.

though, tonight— tonight you aren’t too sure about what natasha’s doing, or what she wants. you’re currently at the bar with kate and yelena, while watching natasha flirt with maria hill right in front of your face. you’ve had to sit through not one, but two sexy dances. watching your girlfriend let her work partner grind all over her isn’t actually how you imagined the night going. the truth was you didn’t even want to come out tonight, but you did for her. she asked you to come out with her, and now you’re sitting at the bar watching her practically undress maria with her eyes.

you chug the rest of what’s in your drink, and turn your attention back to yelena and kate. “i think i’m gonna head home. i’m not feeling too well.” you half lie, and kate’s face falls. “what?! but you’ve only been here for an hour! come on, stay! don’t let natasha ruin your night.” kate tries, and yelena smirks. “you know, you and i can always dance and make her jealous.” yelena offers, and you giggle sadly. “thanks lena, but that’s not what i do... truthfully, i don’t even care anymore. if she wants to flirt or hookup with hill tonight, that’s fine.” you sound exhausted, and this causes both of your friends expressions to morph into looks of concern. “i’m tired...” you trail off, and you stop yourself to keep your voice from breaking.

... i’m tired of trying to be what she wants. i’m tired of not being enough.

you clear your throat, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a twenty dollar bill for your now finished drinks. “at least let me drive you home!” kate tries, and you shake your head. “no, you stay. have fun! i’ll get a cab.” you assure her, and she looks like she wants to protest but you quickly gather your things and stand up, adjusting your dress. “if nat notices i’m gone, which i doubt she will, tell her i went home.” you request, and yelena only nods as you walk away. you turn your head and catch a glimpse of maria whispering something in natasha’s ear. whatever it is it makes natasha grin in a way you haven’t been able to in months.

your heart feels like it’s being squeezed in your chest, but you manage to pry your eyes off of them, the image fully engraved into your mind as you walk out of the club.

“should we be worried? about her? like i know natasha’s your sister and all, but she’s cheating right in front of our eyes.” kate points out as she sips her fruity drink. yelena looks over at natasha who’s still talking to maria, seemingly unaware that you had even left. yelena shakes her head, “natasha? she’s always like this. she pushes and pushes until she pushes the person she loves to snap or leave. you can call it what you want, but i call it self sabotage.” yelena blurts out her retort, and kate shakes her head. “but y/n loves her, yel. i’m really concerned, because she’s willing to let natasha cheat on her. who does that?” kate asks and yelena sighs, reaching for another shot.

“someone who’s tired. she’s probably... how do you say... mentally gone already? yeah, that’s it. she probably doesn’t care anymore about what natasha does.” yelena says, and kate’s face changes as she notices natasha somehow is now behind yelena, and can hear everything the blonde is saying. “i mean, would you? she’s given maria hill more attention in the last hour and a half than she has given y/n all month.” yelena adds, “i wouldn’t be surprised if natasha gets home one day and she’s gone.” yelana continues and kate shakes her head, flashing yelena a look of panic.

“what? do i have something on my face?” yelena asks, and natasha clears her throat from behind the blonde. yelena turns around, and is seemingly unfazed by her sisters sudden presence. “well if it isn’t the woman of the hour! how is your night fling going, сестра (sister)?” yelena asks with a drunk smile on her face, causing natasha to scoff. “fling? and do i wanna know what you were just talking about? or why?” natasha asks, and yelena chortles sardonically. “yes, your fling. your shield partner who you’ve been dry humping all night in front of your girlfriend.” yelena answers and kate sips her drink awkwardly, trying to avoid natasha’s harsh gaze.

“you know what yelena? what do you know about my girlfriend?” natasha asks bitterly, knowing too well about yelena’s not so little crush on you. yelena rolls her eyes, “apparently more than you. y/n has been gone for almost half an hour now, and you haven’t even noticed. i may not have experience in relationships, but i know you’re not supposed to hurt her all the time.” yelena states, and natasha’s fists ball up. “i hurt her all the time?? is that what she tells you?” natasha asks and yelena huffs. “obviously not, natalia! you know she practically worships the ground you walk on! you know what i think? i think when you know someone loves you, you never think twice about them again.” yelena spits harshly, and natasha’s hard expression falters at the words.

“people like you truly don’t know what they have until it’s gone. and when she realizes she deserves better than catching a cab on her own in the middle of november— better than watching you give someone else attention while you’ve barely spared her a single glance since you’ve been back from your mission— she’ll be fine. she’ll find better. but you won’t find someone who loves you that much again, and you know it.” yelena says through gritted teeth, and natasha is staring into yelena’s eyes as if she could see right into her soul.

kate was positive someone was going to get murdered tonight, and it was definitely going to be yelena. until natasha shifts from one foot to the other, and sighs, “where’d she go?” natasha demands, and yelena chuckles, “oh now you care?” the blonde asks, and kate puts her hand on yelena’s shoulder. “she went back home.” kate cuts in, and natasha only nods. she avoids yelena’s gaze before talking again, “i do love her.” natasha starts, and yelena rolls her eyes, turning her head to the side in order to gaze away from natasha.

“you’re both the only two people i love unconditionally in this world.” natasha adds and yelena seems to soften only a bit at the words. “you have a funny way of showing it, сестра (sister).” yelena murmurs, and natasha sighs as she looks at kate, silently apologizing like a scorned puppy. “she’ll forgive you. she always does.” kate tries to reassure the redhead but this only makes her feel even more guilty. natasha nods, but says nothing else. “you better gravel.” yelena blurts out, snickering as natasha walks away.

the entire way back to your guys shared apartment, natasha thinks about you. the way she’s treated you. yelena’s words ring through her head, and she can’t help but grimace she thinks about them.

“you know what i think? i think when you know someone loves you, you never think twice about them again.”

that couldn’t be further from the truth. yet, yelena’s words still hurt. what if you think the same way as the blonde?

“i wouldn’t be surprised if natasha gets home one day and she’s gone.”

yelena’s words hold heavy weight and meaning, and they manage to make natasha’s blood run cold. she doesn’t want to think about you leaving, but she’d be lying if she said she never does. every day she thinks about how much better you deserve, and how wonderful you are. she thinks about all the little things you do for her, like purchasing her favorite brand of hot cocoa from the grocery store. the way you always leave sticky notes on the mirror, telling her you love her. she notices every little thing you do for her. from the way you organize her drawers, to the way you cook dinner based on the foods she prefers.

when she gets home there’s a chilling, deafening silence in the apartment. there wasn’t a single sound other than the sirens and noises coming from the busy streets of new york. “detka?” natasha calls out, as she shuts the door behind her. when she walks in, she sees your sweater from tonight carelessly thrown on the back of the couch. the redhead walks further into your shared apartment, and as she approaches her bedroom, her heart sinks.

you’re not here.

“y/n?” natasha asks, her voice louder this time. when she’s met by more silence, a wave of panic washes over her. “no— shit, fuck—“ natasha slurs while she curses as she fumbles with the purse in her hands, her slightly shaky hands searching for her phone. something in her chest tightens as she unlocks her phone, the screensaver she has of you eating ice cream would in any other case make her smile. right now it makes the uncomfortable pit in her stomach grow as she starts to sober up while pressing on your contact information.

the phone rings twice before natasha can hear your phone ringing somewhere in the kitchen. natasha rushes over in the direction of the sound, and when she sees your phone on the counter, her heart drops right into her stomach. that little condescending voice in her brain is screaming ‘she left. of course she left you, who wouldn’t leave you after all the shit you’ve pulled?’ along with things like ‘yelena was right.’ ‘you never deserved her anyways.’ ‘you’re just a whore, natalia.’

her thoughts are suddenly interrupted by you casually entering the apartment wearing your pink velvet short pajama set. your hair is in unruly curls, and you nearly stop in your tracks at the sight of your girlfriend standing in the middle of the apartment with an inscrutable expression on her face. “you’re home?” you ask uncertainly, yet your voice and face don’t indicate any signs of anger. in fact, you sort of look confused. it’s hard for natasha to swallow as her hands tremble and she lets out a breath of slight relief as she realizes you’re back. “what’s wrong?” you question after not getting an answer from your gaping girlfriend.

“i— i got home and you weren’t here... where— where’d you go?” natasha asks, swallowing past the lump in her throat. her fists are opening and closing, and she’s standing robotically across the room. you step closer to her subconsciously, “mrs. rodriguez knocked; mr. whiskers got loose in the building and i was helping her look for him. we found him on top of the vending machine on level three.” you reveal, explaining your short absence to the ex-assassin. “why are you home so early?” you ask nonchalantly, as you walk past natasha, towards the counter where your phone is.

“you left early. why’d you leave?” natasha asks, ignoring your question, and you notice the way her voice breaks every so slightly. you furrow your brows, “i— i was tired, and i didn’t want to ruin your night... i told yelena and kate to let you know.” you retort, and natasha folds her arms. “you should have told me.” she states, and you raise a brow. “and interrupt whatever the hell was going on between you and maria? no thanks, i was already humiliated enough.” you murmur, and natasha tenses up.

“there’s nothing going on between me and agent hill.” she says seriously, and you roll your eyes. “does she know that? because she was blushing at everything you were saying tonight.” you respond smartly, and natasha scoffs, her crossed arms tightening over her chest. “i didn’t do anything tonight that i don’t usually do when i go out.” she points out, and you sigh, pushing your hair behind your ears. you look at natasha, and she can see on your face how exhausted you are. “yeah, i know.” you say under your breath, “that’s the problem.” you add as you go to leave and natasha moves with you, blocking your way to the bedroom.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” she asks a bit demandingly. you shake your head, “it doesn’t mean a thing to you, i know that.” you respond, your tone lacking it’s usual softness. natasha pauses, and you sigh. “look, i’m really tired, okay? i can’t do this whole fight just to make up thing tonight. i’m going to bed.” you declare, and natasha blinks a few times as you manage to make your way past her and towards the bedroom.

“you’re tired... tired of me?” natasha asks, her voice different than it usually is. this causes you to stop and turn back to look at her. “i’d never get tired of you. ever.” you affirm certainly, but your answer doesn’t seem to satisfy natasha. your shoulders slouch a bit, “i’m tired of the way you make me feel, nat.” you admit, your tone low, and your eyes on the floor. “i’m tired of laying awake at night while you’re out flirting and doing who knows what with people i have to face day to day, and they all wonder the same thing i do. i know it.” your voice cracks as you swallow thickly in order to keep your voice clear. “and what’s that? what are they all wondering?” she asks in a manner you’ve never heard before. your eyes meet hers, and for the first time she can see just how hurt you are.

“if i’m even enough for you. or why you’re even with me in the first place.” you whisper, looking away as your eyes begin to water. the way your bottom lip begins to quiver, and the way your eyes are begging for an answer makes natasha’s heart shatter. “detka...” natasha trails off, her voice faint and quiet. you shake your head, trying to be strong as your teary orbs meet hers. “you know you don’t have to pretend to love me, or settle for me... right? i— i’m a big girl, natasha, i can handle the truth. i think... i think i deserve the truth.” your voice trembles, but you keep your gaze locked on natasha despite the tears in your eyes and you’re trying to blink them away rapidly, causing each tear to fall one by one; streaming down your cheeks to your jaw.

the titian-haired woman stares at you for a long moment, her eyes now glossy and full of anguish. the flicker of emotions in those forest-green orbs does nothing to ease your fears and anxieties that are creeping up on you. tonight’s the night, you think, the night she finally admits you’re not enough for her. you never will be. “pretending to love you? is that what you think i’m doing?” natasha inquires in pure disbelief. “you think i don’t really love you? you think i settled for you??” natasha asks, sounding more upset than you’ve ever heard her. you don’t know what comes over you, but the dam that’s been poorly put together, finally bursts.

“not just me, natasha… everyone thinks that. and tonight— god, tonight you were just showing me how you really feel and i need to stop ignoring it.” you breathe out, the end of your palms digging into your eyelids, as you try your absolute hardest to ignore the urgent need to cry. natasha shakes her head, “that’s not true! i love you more than i love anything! you know that!” natasha raises her voice, and you stare at her with a pained expression. “i don’t. not anymore, and especially not after everything you’ve done.” you respond in a monotone.

natasha stares at you, trying to figure out your next move, but for the first time since she’s met you, she can’t. “maybe... maybe you should just go. go back to the club... back to maria. i’m sure she’ll be more than happy to let you stay at her place... just till i can find a place of my own—“ you begin to ramble, and natasha’s eyes widen. “no!” she shouts, causing you to nearly flinch. “no, please— please don’t. please... don’t make me go.” natasha begs, her voice cracking and you can’t help but flash her a heartbroken expression.

“what else can i do, natasha? i’m not going to compete with her. i can’t... not when she’s obviously the better choice for you.” you hug your arms around yourself, turning away from natasha in order to hide the insecurity written all over your face. “the better choice?” natasha asks unrecognizably, and you turn to face her; the look on your face shatters her. “please don’t make me say it.” you beg, you’re heartbroken enough. “you’re going to have to, because i don’t understand. on what planet is maria hill a better choice than you?” natasha asks, and your fingernails dig into your upper arms.

“just... just leave me alone for the rest of the night. please.” you plead, and she takes a step closer to you, causing you to instinctively take a few steps back. “not tonight.” you add in a strained tone, natasha swears the floor might swallow her whole, and she desperately wants you to hold her. but the way you looked at her— you look absolutely disappointed in her. it makes her realize yelena had more of a point than she anticipated. you turn away, facing your bedroom, and you’re ready for this night to end already. you’re exhausted and all you wanted was to watch movies and cuddle tonight. instead you got this. again.

“i’m sorry.” natasha croaks out, and you close your eyes tightly, clenching your jaw. “me too.” you manage to voice out as you walk into the room, shutting the door behind you. the sound of the lock makes natasha’s heart fall further into that pit that only seems to be growing.

natasha’s legs feel like jelly as she shuffles to the bedroom door. her nose practically touches the cold wood, “i’m sorry.” natasha repeats through the door, “i’ve been a shitty girlfriend. i haven’t treated you the way you deserve, and i know that. i don’t mean to be this way...” her tone is broken and frail, and you stare at the door with tears falling out of your eyes. “the truth is, i don’t know why i do a lot of things. i was trained for everything...” natasha trails off, her voice getting caught somewhere in her windpipe. she swallows past the lump in her throat, “... but i wasn’t trained to keep a good thing. i’ve never had a good thing like this, and when you say you’re not enough for me, that’s just not true. i’m not enough for you.” natasha doesn’t realize she’s crying until she can taste the bitter salt on her lips, falling off her jaw and down to her collarbone.

her forehead is touching the door, and she lets out a ragged breath, squeezing her eyes shut. you don’t say anything, and god, she‘s terrified that she fucked this up beyond repair. then, she hears the door click, and she stands up straight, sniffling as you open the door. you peak through, your eyes full of tears, and they only multiply when you see her red and puffy eyes. she’s staring at you like a lost puppy and you reach for her, immediately seeking her comfort. natasha wraps her muscular arms around the back of your neck, pulling you flush against her. you both say nothing as she holds you in her arms, crying simultaneously. natasha’s arms are wrapped around your neck and she breathes you in. she never wants to let you go.

a few minutes of silence tick by, “i can’t do this anymore, nat…” you whisper, and the words make her heart fall deeper into that blackhole. there’s tears falling out of your eyes and you sniffle as you pull away from the taller woman. “i c-can’t keep doing this. i’m… i’m gonna stay at lizzie’s for awhile.” your voice cracks, and natasha’s eyes widen, she shakes her head quickly, “no— detka please. i can fix this. please, just give me a chance to fix it.” she begs, and you look down, the salty tears streaming down your cheeks. “no nat. i— i need time to think… i don’t want to feel this way anymore.” you express, your hand on your chest as if she’d literally taken a knife and stabbed you through the heart. natasha feels an enormous amount of guilt and regret as she realizes just how badly her actions have affected you.

“baby please… i’m sorry. i don’t want you to leave.” her voice cracks, and her mascara is running. she looks heartbroken, but so do you. it took her this long to realize you’ve been feeling this way, and it was all because of her foolish actions. “you should’ve thought about that before… you really hurt me, nat.” you try to sound strong, but the way you’re crying makes you feel weak. you turn around and make your way into your bedroom, ready to gather a bag of your things then call your sister to come and get you. natasha’s stuck in place as she watches you move around the bedroom, packing a duffel bag. her hearts pounding in her ears, she can’t move or say anything as you talk on the phone with your sister and she agrees to pick you up.

her body doesn’t feel like her own as you throw on a pair of jeans and your own hoodie; it becomes too real as you put your shoes on. she feels like a robot, standing in the middle of her bedroom. you give her one last look before throwing your bag over your shoulder and leaving; you don’t even realize you take natasha’s heart with you when you leave. after the door slams, the silence engulfs her and she can physically feel her heart break in two. what the hell did she do?