#While I still have a ways to go I think I'm doing better than last year!

[astronicht]

prompt if you’re willing and if you’re nastyyyy: rosquez and lies…..

incredible theme best theme. THANK u <3 <3 <3 (caveat that i am tortured by the knowledge that i'm getting some paddock shit wrong in here, i have yet to osmosis my way thru it all, mea culpa)

It’s only nine at night, the summer sun just set, and the paddock is not yet silent. It has grouped instead into little pools of light: most of the motorhomes are lit up behind blinds pulled down on windows, and past them one hospitality suite is still open like a distant island in the dark. Motorhome generators hum loud. The air feels light on the skin, the way it does in the mountains. When he was younger, Valentino never had to sleep in the mountains at all. It was all so easy in the thin air.

He could use a few hours tonight, or tomorrow morning. He can sleep through several practices, frankly, and be up for qualifying instead, because that’s what retirement buys you.

Valentino feels his way silently down the steps of his own motorhome, under the cover of the hum of the generators. He could use his phone flashlight except he left his phone inside. Ah, well. The rough treds on the metal steps bite at his feet through the thin soles of his converse. Once he’s away he stops trying to be silent. His keys jangle in his pocket as he walks.

Pecco is parked next door, Ducati red, lights out. Valentino passes quickly, angling towards the brightest island of light. A few motorhomes later and he passes Marc’s, windows dark, everything quiet. He doesn’t pause.

Honda is the one with hospitality still open, which is good, because Honda hospitality has pretty good espresso. And they mostly let Valentino in, now that it’s Luca’s team. But he likes to think a little bit that not everyone has forgotten that he was here first, before Marc, and before Casey.

There was a crash, earlier — not Luca — and presumably everyone at Honda was up late doing repairs. He wonders how the bike is.

The door swings open and everyone looks up, but no one tells him to head back to his own hospitality suite, which is after all closed up tight for the night. He can easily break in, since the alarm company calls his phone first, but not much point.

Valentino surveys the knots of people at tables while he walks through to the counter station. It’s a mixed crowd of Honda people and hangers-on. Luca isn’t here. Alex Marquez is, however: deep in discussion about football with a mechanic. He looks up and meets Valentino’s eyes, probably by accident. Valentino makes a point of smiling at him. Gets his espresso in a to-go cup and starts to walk past.

The mechanic next to Alex Marquez is Ducati, not Gresini. He says, as Valentino brushes by, “Vale, did you come from the motorhomes? Is Pecco still up? We wanted to see if we could catch him and Marc about something before the morning.” He looks apologetically at Alex, who can’t know the details of Ducati strategy any more than Valentino can.

“Pecco I think no,” Valentino says slowly, stopping, little cup hot in his hands. “Early night. And Marc—” his eyes flick to Alex, who is utterly blank-faced. “Maybe you know better? His lights were… on, I think.”

“He’s up at the pit lane doing some data review, last I heard,” Alex says. “But I think he was going to have an early night.” He is looking very hard at Valentino.

The mechanic is nodding. “Yeah, that’s what I heard too, I just wondered, you know, if you’d seen Pecco.”

Valentino nods and leaves. The dark between the lights of the track and the lights of the motorhomes is wide and deep. The mountains in the distance show up dark against the light pollution from Spielburg.

He creeps back up his own motorhome steps in the dark. Slips the key in the door. It’s dark inside too except for some low light from near the front, where the bed is pulled out.

“How is the data review going?” Valentino asks once the door is shut, amused. “You didn’t even leave your lights on in your motorhome.”

“Why would I do that?” Marc asks from Valentino’s bed. He emerges a little from under the duvet. “Did you get coffee? I didn’t hear you go.”

“You passed out,” Valentino says dryly, proud of it. “I was quiet, like a cat. Ah, have you seen my phone?”

Marc silently raises a hand, Valentino’s phone in it.

“Ah. Find anything good?”

“Nah,” says Marc, “I don’t know your passcode.”

The phone is, of course, handed to Valentino unlocked.

Valentino closes the screen and tosses it to the side, puts a water glass in the sink, doesn't bother with the dirty coffee cups. Picks up a dishcloth.

Marc says, "What are you doing?"

Valentino huffs and fumbles open his jeans. Marcs hands are already reaching for him, out of the dark. He has to bat Marc away to pull his jeans down careful of the zipper. His soft cock and balls are bare beneath, no underwear. It was just a quick trip. Marc's come is still drying on his stomach, in his pubes.

"Come on," Marc says, hands on Valentino's hips. "Come on." And then his mouth is hot on Valentino's messy cock, Valentino's jeans still around his thighs. It's too sudden; Valentino gasps, open-mouthed, stumbling. Marc, merciless, sucks.

[thehereticdiaries]

Into the Wonderland: Chapter Four

Chapter Summary: I'm building plot, it's cute and y/n actually gets a break for once. San's a menace and the alphas are horny bastards but nothing sexual happens YET

Warnings: not much, they talk briefly about kinks and bedroom dynamics but nothing explicit

Series Masterlist

You woke up the next morning later than normal. Thankfully, it was Saturday, which meant no classes to worry about for the next two days. You blinked the remnants of sleep from your eyes, looking up to see Hongjoong awake and scrolling on his phone. You rested your chin on his chest to admire his bedhead while he was still distracted. You only got a moment, though, since he felt you move when you woke up.

“Morning, did you sleep any better last night?” His raspy morning voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“Mhm,” you hid your face in his neck. “No nightmares for the first time in weeks.” 

“Good.” He kissed the top of your head, patting your hip afterward so he could get out of bed. “We should get back to the dorms. The others are worried since I didn’t come back last night.”

“You didn’t tell them?” You sat up and watched him make his way to your bathroom.

“Nope!” You rolled your eyes, checking your notifications before getting up to get dressed. You finished changing just before Hongjoong exited the bathroom. “You ready to go?”

“Actually, I remembered a couple things I wanted to talk to you about. I kinda forgot after doing the pack bond.” He sat next to you on your bed with one hand on your knee. “Okay, my first idea has to do with my apartment. I’m not sure if Mingi told you, but my grandmother gifted it to me. I’m not willing to sell it.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to,” Hongjoong’s eyebrows creased, prompting you to continue.

“Well, I was thinking that since I’m eventually going to move into the dorms with you all,” you didn’t miss the way he sat up straighter at the idea. “We could use my apartment as, like, an extra space for our heats and ruts. Just in case any of us want more privacy.”

“We can talk about it with the rest of the pack when we get back, but I think that’s a great idea,” Hongjoong agreed, tracing circles on your knee.

“The second thing has to do with what me, Seonghwa, and Yeosang discussed back when I first joined. We had a long conversation about our heats and how we handle them and who we handle them with and –”

“Y/N,” he interrupted your rambling. “It’s okay, you can just tell me.”

“I’mstillavirgin,” you muttered way too quickly. He stared at you with one eyebrow raised, silently asking you to repeat yourself. You took a deep breath. Honestly, you didn’t know why you were so nervous to tell him when it was so easy to talk about with the other omegas. “I am still a virgin.” The silence that followed made you anxious, only getting worse when Hongjoong closed his eyes and counted to ten.

“Okay!” He sounded almost too chipper. “That’s fine, no problem.”

“Riiiiiight,” you trailed off, baffled by his reaction. “Uh, that’s everything. We can go back to the dorms now.” You stood, grabbing your backpack and his laptop bag then leaving your apartment.

You and Hongjoong walked into an empty living room. He set both of your bags down, then wrapped his arms around your shoulders from behind, effectively hiding your new mark. He covered your ears.

“Everyone in the living room!” He shouted and immediately footsteps approached from all over the dorm. His hands dropped back down to their original spot on your shoulders. One by one, the other pack members filed into the living room. No one sat, too on edge from the head alpha’s disappearance last night.

“Care to explain why you never came back last night?” Seonghwa questioned with a hand on his hip. 

“I’m sure most, if not all of you, have noticed how tired Y/N has been.” Everyone nodded and you hid behind Hongjoong’s arms. You thought you were hiding your exhaustion pretty well. “Our precious little omega has been having nightmares because of her piece of shit classmate.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell us?” Seonghwa’s voice filled with concern as he stepped forward to run a hand through your hair.

“I thought I could handle it, that they’d go away on their own,” you admitted softly, looking up at your elder omega through your lashes. 

“That’s why I didn’t come back last night. We’re not going to let her sleep alone, whether she’s over here or one of us is at her apartment.” Hongjoong flicked his eyes across each of his pack members. He smiled fondly when they all agreed with no hesitation. “How about some good news?” He stepped back, letting his arms fall from you to his sides. You were instantly crowded by the betas and omegas of the group, with San and Jongho lingering a tiny bit further away. 

“Yes! Holy shit, you’re officially ours, dollface,” Wooyoung laughed and ran his fingers over your new mark. Seonghwa swatted his hand away.

“Don’t touch it! It’s still healing,” he scolded the younger beta. Wooyoung held his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, jeez.” San rested his chin on Wooyoung’s head to get a better view of your neck. You blushed under all of the attention. In the opposite corner of the room, Hongjoong whispered to Mingi and Yunho. They not-so-subtly glanced over to you every so often. Curiosity got the better of you, and you wormed your way out of the doting hands of Yeosang and Seonghwa. 

“What are we talking about?” You inserted yourself between Hongjoong and Yunho, the latter slinging an arm over your shoulders.

“Hongjoong was just telling us that you asked him to be there for your heat,” Mingi started with a sly grin.

“And that you want his claim during it,” Yunho concluded. You scrunched your eyebrows at them.

“Yeah? I think that’s pretty normal, so why are you guys acting weird?” You looked between the two taller alphas.

“I’m just warning you now: I don’t think either of us will be patient enough to wait until your next heat to add our own claiming marks,” Mingi stated with a shrug. You hummed and leaned into Yunho’s side.

“I wasn’t really expecting you to with how far apart my heats are.”

“What do you mean?” Hongjoong turned your head to him by your chin. 

“Seonghwa and Yeosang didn’t tell you? I’m on a suppressant that pushes them to every three months,” you explained.

“Is that healthy? Why do you need them, anyway?” Yunho asked next, trailing his fingers over your bicep.

“I need them because my heats were excruciatingly painful. Yes, they’re completely safe. The only side effect I really have basically took the pain and turned it to neediness,” you snickered at your attempt at a joke. No one else laughed. In fact, Yunho tensed at your side and Hongjoong had to close his eyes for a few deep breaths again. You looked at Mingi, but he was faring no better, covering his mouth with his hand.

“Okay!” Hongjoong had the same overly chipper tone as earlier that morning. “Thank you for telling us. I gotta go work on that mix more, see you in a bit.” He pecked your forehead then practically sprinted down the hallway, laptop bag in hand. The other two alphas left with similar excuses, leaving you alone in the living room. You were once again baffled by their reactions, and it must have shown on your face.

“Everything alright?” San asked as he re-entered the room. You sat on the couch with a huff. The beta set his gym bag on the counter then took the seat next to you.

“Yeah, I’m just confused, is all.” He arched his brow, gesturing for you to continue. “I’m confused with the way Hongjoong, Yunho, and Mingi reacted to something I said. This morning I told Hongjoong that I’ve never had sex, then just now I told the three of them about my heat suppressants and the way it makes me super needy. All three of them got really quiet and really tense. They’re not upset, are they?”

“Nope,” San managed to say between his giggles. “I promise they’re not mad. They were probably just trying to keep themselves in check.”

“What do you mean?”

“Honey, our pack is entirely doms and switches. Hongjoong has a huge corruption kink. Him, Yunho, and Mingi were holding themselves back from jumping your bones right then and there.” Your jaw dropped at his bluntness. This was interesting.

“Oh, you have to tell me more,” you insisted while poking his ribs. He laughed, gently pushing your hand away.

“Ah-ah, that’s gonna be something you have to discuss with everyone individually.” San checked his watch. “I gotta meet Changbin at the gym soon.” He stood to grab his bag, but paused to smirk at you. “I can give you a hint, though.”

“Yes! Tell me.” San leaned over you, bracing himself on the couch on either side of your head, effectively caging you in.

“Our alphas and your fellow omegas are all mean.” Your breath hitched, both at his proximity and his admission, red coating your cheeks and ears.

“What about you?” 

“Me? I’m one of the nice ones.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips then walked out the door like nothing happened. You gawked at the front door until someone cleared their throat from the hallway. Wooyoung leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

“Does he always do that?” You pointed in the direction San went in, assuming he heard enough to know what you were talking about.

“Oh, yes. San is too patient for his own good. He’ll tease you for days just to see you get riled up and desperate for him,” Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows at you. 

“And he says he’s a nice one,” you scoffed, fanning your heated face with your hands. 

“He is, trust me.” With a wink, Wooyoung disappeared back down the hall. You shook your head, no less confused than you were 10 minutes ago. Jongho and Seonghwa passed through the room as you pulled your book out of your backpack. The latter grabbed a list off the fridge, meeting up with Yunho and leaving the dorm. The youngest pack member sat next to you, handing you a water bottle and draping your legs over his lap. You fell into a comfortable silence with the beta, each absorbed in your own activities while enjoying each other’s company.

The next day you woke up with Wooyoung practically on top of you. Last night when you left the dorm, he insisted on being the next one to stay at your apartment. You attempted to wiggle out from under him, making the beta whine in the back of his throat. He wrapped his arms tighter around your middle.

“Wooyoung, let go I have to pee,” you shoved his shoulder half-heartedly. He buried his nose in your hair, pointedly ignoring you. “Wooyoung.”

“Ugh, fine!” He reluctantly let you go so you could both get ready to go back to the dorms. You really need to figure out when you could move in, the back and forth was getting annoying. You barely had a chance to set your backpack on the couch when Yunho grabbed your hand and pulled you right back out the door.

“Yunho, where are we going? I wanted to work on my code,” you complained but didn’t fight him, easily letting him lead you outside where Hongjoong and Mingi waited.

“We,” he started, gesturing between himself and the other alphas. “Are taking you on a date.”

“What?! Why didn’t you tell me, I would’ve dressed nicer!” You looked down at your sweater and jeans.

“You look great, come on,” Hongjoong took your other hand, lacing your fingers together. You walked between the two with Mingi right behind you. It almost felt like you had bodyguards. They guided you through the subway and a short walk later you stared wide-eyed in the lobby of the Seoul Science Center. You, Yunho, and Mingi waited off to the side while Hongjoong got your tickets.

“I’ve never been here,” you grinned while looking through a pamphlet detailing the exhibits. 

“Really? That’s surprising, considering your field of study,” Yunho commented, accepting his ticket when Hongjoong held it out to him. 

For the next couple hours, your alphas followed behind you, listening intently as you gushed over the displays. You were happy to explain anything they didn’t understand and looking up the things that none of you knew. At one point you got stuck trying to figure out how to start a demonstration. You futzed around with the damn thing for nearly fifteen minutes before giving up. A young girl and her father came up beside your group. The girl was maybe ten-years-old at most, but she activated the demo in about three seconds. You collectively decided to browse the gift shop after that.

It was late in the afternoon when you returned to the dorms. You went to collapse onto the couch, groaning dramatically at Mingi pulling you into the kitchen to place you on the counter and stand between your legs.

“You’re letting them get away with too much,” Seonghwa remarked on his way into the living room. “Remember to share. You guys have had her all day.”

“Five more minutes, then she’s all yours,” Hongjoong responded as he and Yunho joined the two of you. 

“Any reason why I’m still being held hostage?” You raised an eyebrow at them.

“Kiss,” was the only explanation you got before Mingi dipped down to connect his lips to yours. One hand held the back of your neck, the other resting on the counter next to your thigh. His tongue slipped into your mouth, running along yours before pulling away with a light nip to your bottom lip. Satisfied with your dazed expression, Mingi gave you another quick kiss then left so Yunho could take his place.

“Did you have fun today?” He cupped your cheek with one hand, brushing his thumb over the flushed skin. You nodded rapidly, pressing your forehead to his. “Good.” The force of his kiss contrasted the gentle touches he trailed across your neck and hip. He licked into your mouth, guiding your tongue to his so he could suck on it. A string of saliva connected you when he pulled back to kiss down your jaw and neck. Hongjoong growled in warning when Yunho got too close to your mating gland. The younger alpha rolled his eyes, shooting you a wink before following Mingi’s path further into the dorms.

“Don’t be mean,” you tried to scold Hongjoong but your smile took the sting out of it. He pressed himself into you, pulling your legs to wrap around his waist.

“Oh, you haven’t seen mean yet, babe,” he smirked, eyes intense and lips ghosting over yours. You inhaled sharply to suppress the whimper that threatened to escape your throat. His mouth devoured yours, all tongue and teeth. Hongjoong’s self-restraint frayed at the edges as he allowed himself to roll his hips against yours once, just to hear your tiny moan. He tore himself away from you, leaning closer to your ear.

“I need to stop it here, my pretty omega. Or I’m gonna end up fucking you on the counter,” his voice sent a shiver through your body. 

“W-why can’t you?” You stammered and scratched his scalp at the base of his neck. He sent you a warning look that only succeeded at sending a rush of heat to your lower belly.

“The first time I fuck you is going to be during your heat,” he stated firmly. 

“But why?” Your whine was cut off by Hongjoong gripping your jaw. 

“Don’t argue. You should know this, sweetheart. We produce the strongest bond that way. Understand?” You pouted, but nodded against his hold. His eyes softened immediately. “Good girl. Go give some love to the others.” You tried to keep the praise from going to your head while he lifted you off the counter. At the doorway of the kitchen, Hongjoong steered you to the living room with a pat to your backside. 

“Finally!” Seonghwa quipped, pulling you to sit on his lap when you were close enough. His arms draped lazily around your waist. Yeosang scooted closer to maneuver your legs over his lap, resting his head on the eldest’s shoulder. “Are you staying here tonight or going back to your apartment?”

“As much as I’d like to stay here, all of my school stuff is back at mine. We gotta figure out when I can move in, and what room I’d be moving into,” you noted offhandedly. 

“Hmm, your heat’s in two weeks. Do you want to wait until after to talk about it with everyone?” Yeosang suggested.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you agreed and relaxed into Seonghwa’s chest to watch a movie that Jongho put on. After dinner, you and San returned to your apartment. You fell asleep that night tucked safely under the beta’s chin.

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here @corgilover20 @eastjonowhere @bookswillfindyouaway

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[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Gordon and Edward, Part 3

As Lady is my witness, I will never take more than 500 words to ever answer a simple ask again 🫡 Enjoy this last hurrah of hyperlexia!

Part 1: Gordon, what's your damage? 😭 / The Doylist Reason / Rent. Free. 

Post 2: Edward's Defences / Gordon's Growth

Post 3 (this post): Collision / Uh… Cleanup Crew?

Collision

Folks take Main Line Engines Edward and Gordon as a glimpse into just normal day-in-the-life stuff for them. It's not. It's the culmination of 40+ years of their shit. (From a Doylist perspective, it's also the last time Awdry would ever visit this dynamic – it's the last time any Awdry would, in a proper RWS book – and he seems to have known it.) 

So, cue scene: "Wrong Road." Here we are, late evening, chilling on a couple of sidings somewhere outside Tidmouth station. The text puts this setting in a sort of void. I’d assume our heroes are taking on coal or water or something, as after this they report to the station for their trains. But that’s not for a bit yet. Right now we’re chilling. Eddie and Gordo. Great old friends. 

All right, that might have been sarcastic if we were setting this scene in the ‘20s, but this is now 1964 or -65 (depending on just how rapidly you think The Author and his publishers beam these stories out there). Don’t be so cynical, dear reader. Time has passed. 

This is Gordon matured. In his prime. He’s an Evolved Being these days (still capitalizes random things in his head, though). He has come to recognize that, grand and mighty though he is, relationships are important. He's been reminded of this just recently, in fact, what with his old driver retiring. (How's he doing with the transition, you ask? Wonderfully. No one copes with change better than Gordon the Big Engine. No one!) And so he’s going to make an effort here to find something to chat about with Edward. Even if Edward is kind of a queer old fellow, one of his tougher relationships. They don’t often see eye-to-eye on things, you see. But Evolved Being Gordon values his relationships, so, goddammit, he puts himself out there. Truly, he has a certain respect for Edward for never being drawn into Gordon’s lead on things. Like, it’s irritating – very – but Gordon can acknowledge that this is because, in his own way, Edward is something sort of like a leader, and indeed on occasion Gordon has had cause to admit to himself, after the fact, that Edward may have been right. Once. Or even twice. Anyway, their differences make things tricky and a bit distant, but Gordon still values the relationship. Enough to make an effort.

And! Tonight, he has a commonality for them to bond over. Something that’s been bugging the hell out of him and that surely must be worrying Edward, too. 

"It's not fair," grumbled Gordon. "What isn't fair?" asked Edward.  "Letting Branch Line diesels pull Main Line trains." 

Coz diesels, amirite? 

I cannot emphasize enough that Gordon makes this conversational gambit in good faith. He knows that Edward has had insecurities about being replaced before. Edward’s been dealing with The Fat Controller letting this diesel lurk around on his Branch Line for some while. And now Gordon and the others are facing the same threat! Gordon can genuinely carp to Edward about this and fully expect sympathy! Then after that Gordon can offer sympathy, too! They have a common interest, huzzah!

Gordon is sure that tonight he is getting a good grade in Friendship. 

Then - 

"Never mind, Gordon. I'm sure BoCo will let you pull his trucks sometimes. That would make it quite fair."

Needle scratch. 

From Gordon’s perspective: WTF just happened here? Edward’s… Edward’s teasing him, isn’t he? 

Now, look. Part of Gordon’s maturation is that he has accepted that he is part of the great karmic circle of life. Some days you’re the champ, and some days you take the L and just have to graciously accept that everyone else is gonna enjoy their victory laps. He’s used to this. He can handle it with good grace, indeed. 

However: 

1) Is that… is that what’s going on? IS Edward zinging him? Gordon’s pretty sure. He’s familiar with the experience ("never trust domeless engines! teehee"). But Edward does like to take his shots with an angelically serious face, which Gordon always finds confusing and a bit annoying. No one else bothers to disguise it when they’re laughing at him, and Gordon has learned to take it well (well, take it without melting down). But he does wish Edward would be more direct about it. Because… is that what’s going on here??

2) And, if it is… WHY? What the hell just happened? You tease someone after they fucked up and you’ve won this round. Did something just happen in the time it took Gordon to blink? What was the round? How did Gordon fuck up? They were having a perfectly amiable conversation like one bloody second ago! Garrrrgh. 

(This is the whole problem with Edward, Gordon harrumps to himself. What is ‘this’, you ask? Well, if Gordon could explain it, it wouldn’t be such a problem now would it!)

Well, where he went wrong is utterly baffling to Gordon. But it’s clear as day to Edward, and pretty obvious to everyone he tells (and he seems to manage to relate this story to at least some parties within an extraordinarily short window of time…) The others may only tease when they’re in a position of strength. Edward’s playful teasing is not necessarily a sign that he’s comfortable; it’s a defense mechanism. When Edward is comfortable and relaxed with other engines, he tends to be practical-minded (job swap time!) and/or very much 100% in earnest (“I was pleased to hear your happy whistle yesterday”). Teasing is something he resorts to in order to find or restore equilibrium. So he’s not trying to signal that he’s “won” anything, but he is trying to win the exchange and turn the tables on Gordon in a moment when Gordon’s superior, dismissive attitude towards an engine rubs Edward the wrong way. Gordon thinks Edward will relate to him; they’re both steam engines who go way back, after all. Instead Edward instinctively relates to whatever engine Gordon is talking down. He probably would even if he hadn’t already made friends with BoCo - and he has. (This is another thing Gordon can’t fathom. Edward’s intuition lets him find and form friendships way faster than Gordon can comprehend warming up to anyone. To Gordon this feels like disloyalty.)

So Edward’s already lowkey annoyed - ‘Oh, Gordon’s being Gordon again’ - even as Gordon unconsciously stomps on the old, old wound that Edward still carries from the far past when Gordon would talk down him. Gordon doesn’t do that to him these days, but he’s still out here doing it to other engines and Edward dislikes it. A lot. 

But, because it is Gordon and Edward just isn’t comfortable enough to communicate with him in any sort of straightforward way, Edward once again pretends not to be bothered - even as he deliberately turns the tables on Gordon, playfully suggesting something he knows Gordon will hate as a fair solution to the problem. 

Winding Gordon up is so much easier and safer than, like, actually communicating with him. 

And so Edward does. He knows that when he pulls this sort of passive-aggressive move that it leaves Gordon pleasingly unsettled. 

What Edward may not understand is that Gordon really is genuinely out of his depth. It’s not clear to Gordon whether Edward is joking or not - and, unfortunately, wherever this notion appeared from, The Fat Controller does tend to call things Edward’s way so the fact that Edward has a bright idea really could imply that it’s going to become reality in a bafflingly brief amount of time. 

At any rate, Gordon deals with what seems to him this sucker punch out of nowhere by resorting to his old well-worn defense mechanism - his superiority complex. To soothe his confusion and his own hurt feelings (why is Edward laughing at him? how did Gordon just lose a game that he didn’t even know he was playing? what in Gresley’s name is Edward all the sudden trying to PUNISH him for?) Gordon grabs and flaunts his superior importance and breeding as a trump card: 

Gordon spluttered furiously. "I won't pull BoCo's dirty trucks. I won't run on Branch Lines."

(Gordon needs the comfort of this sort of boast, maybe needs to say it to convince himself.)

"Why not? It would be a nice change." "The Fat Controller would never approve," said Gordon loftily. "Branch Lines are vulgar." He puffed away in a dignified manner. Edward chuckled and followed him to the station… 

Of course, the fact that Gordon instantly needs to resort to boasting and putting Edward down (ho-hum; anyone here have a branch line?) only confirms to Edward that he’s always been right not to put much trust in this new amiability between them. To Edward’s eye, he barely had to tap on it before it shattered. From Gordon’s point of view, Edward just did a lot more than tap on it - stomped on it rather. Still, it’s incredibly fair to my eye for Edward to conclude that he was right not to think Gordon’s latter-day changes run very deep, and to keep up his ‘laugh and pretend not to care’ tactic even as the scene closes.

It’s completely fair. Still, Gordon, I’m sure, never gave this baffling exchange a second thought after he left the platform that evening with his train (for the first time). As far as Gordon is concerned, Edward scored one off on him SOMEHOW, Gordon harrumphed and did a little tit for tat which is his goddamn right, and perhaps they both could have been a little more mature about it but at any rate that’s over. 

It was dark by the time the trains reached the Junction, and you can guess what happened – Edward went through on the Main, while Gordon was switched to the Branch… It took The Fat Controller several hours to sort out the tangle and pacify the passengers. In the end Gordon was left, with his fire drawn, cold and cross on one of Edward's sidings[...]  "No, Bill, this lot's useless for scrap. We'll take it to the harbour and dump it in the sea." Gordon was alarmed. "I am Gordon. Stop! Stop!"  The twins paid no attention. Gordon shut his eyes and prepared for the worst[...] 

After an absolutely terrible night and, somehow, a more terrible morning with what Gordon (not autistic at all btw!) sincerely regards as a genuine attempt on his life…  

Edward scolded the twins severely, but told Gordon it served him right. Gordon was furious. 

… Gordon encounters Edward again the next day only to be told that his whole harrowing experience, complete with the disrespect and the death threats from Edward’s own weird little industrial twin terrorists, ‘served him right.’ 

Gordon: 

WHAT?????? 

Gordon thinks that, at most, he got a little shirty the night before but that Edward literally started it. 

Edward, however, is taking a cool account of every sin Gordon has ever committed, up to and including Gordon being a drama queen about this whole ‘dump him in the sea’ business (I’m sure Edward could fathom taking the china clay twins seriously if he tried - if this were Duck coming to him with this complaint I’m sure Edward could make that leap of imagination - but this is Gordon. Edward doesn’t regard the twins as all that challenging and he’s not about to make an effort right now to understand the troubles of Gordon, who just last night had turned back the clock some thirty years in order to directly insult his branch line out of nowhere.) 

Basically: All the sudden, their old truce is in tatters. Both think that it’s the other’s fault – Edward reckons Gordon’s just proved it never meant much, while Gordon thinks Edward just spat on all his efforts for no reason at all that he can see. 

I am sympathetic to Gordon’s bafflement up to this point - I understand why Edward is blowing hot and cold like this, and I think he has a right to, but this hostile confusion and mutual pain was always going to be the inevitable result, sooner or later. 

But Gordon loses my sympathy real fast when he reacts to this development by… partying like it’s Vicarstown 1922:

(Note of course that while Henry and James gave Gordon an opening, their remarks were far more neutral – Gordon takes the opportunity to tank the entire vibe:) 

"Did you see him straining?" asked Henry.  "Positively painful," remarked James. "Just pathetic," grunted Gordon. "He should give up and be Preserved before it's too late."  "Shut up!" burst out Duck. 

Okay, yep. I am vividly reminded why kind little Edward, once-upon-a-time a very straightforward and transparent character, had to go and develop this entire fucky points-scoring communication style to begin with. 

But my proposal here is that this blow-up represents an aberration from their postwar relationship. They seemed to have moved on. They had at least 15 years of relative peace. The above scene represents something of a surprise twist (appropriate for a finale): Nah, they never did patch things up! They’re as fucked up as ever! 

Now, the previous paragraph was a place where I think that I am actually reading in concert with what Awdry’s writing. I do think he intended that as a bit of a twist. I think “Edward’s Exploit” is in a way meant to be a callback to those days, a deliberate “Edward’s Day Out/Edward and Gordon Part 2: Electric Boogaloo.” 

This whole book is, I think, meant to be a new as well as a final word on Edward’s character development. Hence, he shows us an Edward who throughout the book displays a new level of assuredness. We see his dynamic with Bill and Ben, introduced here for the first time. We’re shown that, far from fading away, he’s fast becoming besties with one of those newfangled diesels. And - well, you couldn’t really crown Edward’s character development without revisiting the Gordon dynamic, now could you? “Wrong Road” shows us the playful, teasing, never-fear-these-days-I-can-handle-Gordon-with-a-smile Edward we already met for the first time in “Cows,” but then for this go-’round Awdry takes it one step further: Edward no longer has to couch his disapproval of Gordon’s attitude indirectly, but can assert himself in a direct conflict. Edward’s never canonically scolded anyone before, but now we see he’s able to manage both titchy little saddletanks and Gordon Himself. The next time someone says Edward is a static character, I swear to Lady I am going to chuck this book at their head. That was a very deliberate character arc. And I love it! Lookit my sweet boy crack some skulls! Awesome! 

… it is, however, very depressing to me that we had to explode the apparent Edward+Gordon truce in order to achieve this. 

Mind you, Awdry thinks he resolved that conflict by the end of “Exploit.” I cannot emphasize this enough. Yes, Gordon reverted to his old tricks when Edward leveled up and told him off – but by the end of the story Edward’s wildly popular exploit has shut him up, so yay! It’s all good! 👍 👍

…

Oh, wait? You don’t think it’s so good? You feel like maybe you could use a bit more, before you felt like these two were on new and solider-than-ever ground? Like maybe this relationship needs a bit more than Gordon merely shutting up? Like you’d wish it to be deeper than Gordon apparently resigning himself to the fact that Edward is Always Fuckin’ Right, and Edward Always Fuckin’ Wins? Like maybe we haven’t really addressed the underlying problem here at all, maybe jealousy and pique and hierarchy was always their obstacle from Day 1? And so they can never compete their way out of this mess?

Yeah, weird. I feel like that too, somehow. 

However, this is what canon gives us. We can add some more to it, sure. But I do think it’s worth just… sitting with this for a while. Processing things. These are two characters who are flawed but who have such great qualities, as well, and there are these obvious points of connection and potential understanding, and you just feel like this could be a much richer relationship, instead of merely a decades-long tug-of-war. I mean, we go on to see it with Gordon and BoCo. (All right, obviously I’ll never admit BoCo is ‘just a diesel Edward.’ But for purposes of this particular essay, I’ll just say that… he’s not not a diesel Edward, y’know? They’re certainly goddamn similar enough that it’s incredible how close Gordon becomes with one of them and how, despite so much time and opportunity, he will forever be held at arms’-length with the other.) That relationship seems like one of genuine mutual support. Indeed the other remarkable thing that goes down in "Wrong Road" is that for once Gordon not only connects to someone without relying on the "benevolent patron" role, but indeed that he is the one who needs help – but he actually responds to it well and, instead of condescending to BoCo, he shows respect. And it seems so obvious that Gordon and Edward’s could have been like that too, but instead they’ve spent so long bothering each other despite a fair amount of good intention on each side. 

That’s how it goes sometimes, I guess. 

But hey, you know what. Maybe their relationship improved later, off-screen. Like maybe it had some space to breathe once The Author stopped poking around and fuckin’ writing about it. 

I’ve heard of wilder things. 

Uh, Cleanup Crew? 

"All three engines are now great friends." 

I think this famous conclusion is true – at least, it was true in 1945, at the height of their optimism and unity. However the tension in the Gordon-Edward leg of this triangle, seen from the beginning of canon, only ever gets worse. 

Honestly, the notorious TTRE stuff doesn’t strike me as all that bad. I read TTRE and I’m actually like, yeah sure, I can see how these two would move on to become friends. Honestly I can see it at the end of TTRE a lot more easily for Gordon and Edward than for Gordon and Henry - I feel like Gordon’s actually been a lot worse to Henry. Most of the red flags in this relationship – the aggressive ostracizing of Troublesome Engines and Edward’s backbiting and Taking Control of the Narrative – come later! And look, Gordon and Henry have their rough patches too. Henry the Green Engine is a terrible low point, Gordon was a flaming dumpster fire in his whistle story. But it’s also clear that Gordon and Henry do a lot of relationship repair, off-screen. We see continually how joined at the hip they are, we see them genuinely enjoying each other’s company, and it makes sense because we know they have interests and personality traits in common. 

In contrast, even though Gordon and Edward’s relationship seems more recoverable in theory, in practice nearly every interaction between them ranges from uncomfortable to actively hostile. There is never any repair, there’s only ever Edward managing to keep Gordon in check, and when you are constantly playing defense you might be able to make some sort of old working relationship creak and clatter on but you are never really getting close to each other either. If Henry needed an apology from Gordon, and I expect he did, then Henry spoke up and he got one. Edward is tougher than Henry, more independent. Which is good for him but one result from never moaning or complaining to Gordon about Gordon’s past offenses is that Gordon, oblivious and proud, is never going to take responsibility or make amends for them. Usually in real life I’d just be like 'good riddance!’ but this is fiction, lol, and despite this one major flaw Gordon truly is so valuable as a friend. But there’s no evidence to me that he ever really became one for Edward. Edward doesn’t hate him, I think sheer necessity and his capacity to understand others makes him genuinely fond of Gordon. But he doesn’t trust him, and because he doesn’t trust him he provokes Gordon to forever give him fresh reason to not trust him, and because of this no matter how well they can work together or chit chat this never becomes a mutually supportive relationship and, like… that’s sad. That’s real sad. By the end of TTRE I’m like ‘aww, this friendship could be cute.’ By the end of MLE I’m like ‘Family counseling, stat. Or just communicate solely through intermediaries for the rest of your life, that could work too.’ 

But Jobey. I don’t accept this. I imagine them as genuine friends and/or I straight-up ship them and LA LA LAAA I can’t heeeear youuuu. 

You’re perfectly welcome to do so, lol. I'd like to take a sad song and make it better, too. 

The one fortunate thing is that, after Main Line Engines, there is plenty of blank space where anyone can continue or add to the 2+4 story. I think one can plausibly fill in a happy ending. Gordon still has some character development after MLE. Edward doesn't, but I think he ought, and I can see a couple areas where he could. To make a happy ending for this dynamic convincing three things still do have to click into place. In no particular order: 

The narrative actually has to validate the good parts of Gordon's ethos (not the selfish parts - but the subversive/rebellious/engine autonomy parts) as a necessary complement to Edward's ethos.

Edward has to be willing to let himself be vulnerable in front of Gordon. 

Gordon needs to need Edward's help and then actually express gratitude afterwards. 

Shouldn't be too tough, honestly! The first has to be done by we the transformative-work fans; canon never did and never could. The third is especially easy because we do finally see Gordon doing this in Main Line Engines and again in his second book, High Speed Engine – it's just that both times it's with BoCo, lmao. Gordon's there. Gordon's ready. He just needs a plot point opportunity. To be honest the second is going to be the toughest nut to crack. Again, Edward is not shown to develop after MLE. For this dynamic, he's gonna have to. Just a smidge more. Unlike TVS, I don't think "Gordon is humbled" is going to be enough of a wandwave to make this right. I'm not interested in blame, I'm interested in them finding a groove that works for them. A relationship that doesn't need to make either of them smaller for it to work.

And it should be possible, to somehow get those boxes checked. Some factors are already very much in their favor: 

The Author is no longer sticking a mic in their smokeboxes and publishing the shit they say about each other every few years. 

We saw them have normal, comfortable interactions in 1952. We already know a level of mutual trust is possible.

Presumably more and more engines are coming to Sodor, making this older bond rarer and more important to them. 

They're good friends with each other's friends. 

Gordon's growth clearly takes some cues from Edward's example. Their outlooks are converging, not diverging.

(If we need to wait this long for something to facilitate this) Gordon getting knocked off the express in 2011 radically changed his lifestyle. 

So, I don't feel too despairing about this relationship. Hell, I kind of like to imagine that by the time the century turns they're able to laugh together and even mutually pitch caricatures of their old relationship missteps to the new writers lol. 

And their proposed smoothing-out and reconnection would have big thematic resonance. The early conflicts in canon often had to do with the Edward ethos and the Gordon ethos. Part of the reason those conflicts taper off is because both the characters mature, of course. But part of the reason is just that the external circumstances change. The world whole environment of the NWR changes, and when it does these two ethos are incorporated into a whole. They begin to merge and complement each other. Indeed, arguably a lot of the success of the railway's culture is because everyone figures out a way embrace both. Innit? I think so. And if you buy that interpretation (Awdry didn't, lol, but what does he know?) then this long and winding 2+4 road actually ends up as a very nice story. Best story never written, perhaps.

But, for all the promising signs for the post-MLE era, I would still love to see more fan content within the original RWS canon timeline that represents the high degree of textual tension between them (and uniquely between them) from the 1920s to the 1960s. It's messy as hell, I hate the discomfort and would-you-two-dumbasses-just-COMMUNICATE of it sooo much, at the same time it's extremely compelling. Very good food. Even if things have improved, I hope they're still sometimes Problematic and Passive-Aggressive. I hope newbies are occasionally stuck with them in the sheds when they trip over a sensitive old topic and these two oldies don't even look at each other but the temperature still drops like a falling snowcap and the most oblivious of the newbies is like "Uhh, guys? ? ? Real weird vibe in here!" 

And Henry and BoCo just look fuckin' exhausted, lmaoo. 

[engie-ivy]

(December time! Festive fics! Trigger warning: mentions of assault, but nothing graphic. Happy ending though🙂)

1257 words.

When his friends are forced to spend Christmas without Sirius, all they can do is pray for a Christmas miracle.

Until You're Home Again

It’s Gonna Be a Cold Cold Christmas - Dana Scallon

“Hello love,” Remus leans over and kisses Sirius’ cheek. “It's cold outside. You would be freezing, stubbornly insisting on still wearing that leather jacket of yours.”

He takes off his coat and hangs it over the chair, rubbing his hands together to get some warmth in them. Before he sits down, he trails his fingers gently across Sirius’ cheek.

“Oh, before I forget.” He rummages through his coat pocket. “Mary baked you a batch of your favourite cookies. I'll just put them here beside you, so you can eat them when… when you can, okay, love?” His hand trembles slightly as he places the box on Sirius’ bedside table.

“Christmas is coming up soon, you know? I haven't put up the tree this year.” He chuckles. “I can just imagine how you would scold me for my lack of Christmas cheer, wouldn't you, love?”

The only response he gets is the steady beep of the machine.

Lily slides into the chair across from Remus and passes over a hot chocolate. “How was he today?”

Remus shrugs, fiddling with the lid of his cup. “The same, I guess. At least it's not worse, but it's not… better either.”

Lily sighs. “I'm sorry. And any news on the upcoming trial?”

“Our lawyer has suggested postponing,” Remus replies, still staring at his cup. “She says that if we wait, maybe we can charge them with murder instead of attempted murder or aggravated assault.” He swallows. “And I want them to get the maximum sentence, of course I do, but…” He looks up and meets Lily's eyes. “I don't want to lose him. I can't… Oh god, I can't lose him, Lily.” His voice breaks towards the end.

A determined look appears on Lily's face. “She's a lawyer, not a doctor! Whatever she has to say about Sirius waking up or not doesn't matter!”

Remus averts his eyes again. “The doctors aren't giving me much hope either. All they're saying is that they had hoped Sirius would've shown more signs of consciousness by now.”

Lily reaches over and squeezes Remus’ hand. “You should come over to our place after visiting hours tomorrow. It's Christmas Day, and we're all getting together.”

“I don't know, Lils,” Remus replies. “I'm not really in the mood for a celebration.”

“Remus John Lupin,” Lily says sternly. “If you think that we're all merrily going to be singing Christmas carols around the Christmas tree while Sirius is in the hospital in such a state you are sorely mistaken!” She lowers her voice. “We're all going to be miserable. We just figured we could be miserable together.”

“I'm sorry, Lily,” Remus says. “Of course you're not…” He shakes his head. “I'm sorry, and I'd love to come over tomorrow.”

Lily smiles at him. “And who knows, maybe we'll get a Christmas miracle.”

1 year later

“Oi! Those cookies are for tonight!” Mary snatches the box away.

“Awww, come on, Mary,” Sirius pouts. “Last year I wasn't able to eat any. I have to make up for lost time.”

“Sirius Orion Black. Are you using what happened to you as a way to get cookies?”

“It depends,” Sirius says. “Is it working?”

“Dammit, yes, it is.” Mary hands him back the box.

James and Lily come out of the kitchen, just as Marlene and Dorcas arrive. “Dinner is in the oven,” James says. “And should be ready within half an hour.”

“Marls, look!” Sirius says, as Marlene kisses his cheek to greet him. He lifts up his right arm almost over his head. “I almost have full range of motion back in my arm!”

“That's amazing!” Marlene beams at him. “All your hard work in physical therapy is really paying off!”

“And I went to the supermarket on my own yesterday,” Sirius adds.

“Mate, I'm so proud of you!” James places a hand on Sirius’ shoulder as he smiles at him even brighter than Marlene.

Sirius huffs. “You two saving lives in the Emergency Room on a daily basis, acting all proud just because I went to a supermarket.”

“Our jobs have nothing to do with how hard you've been working in exposure therapy,” James says sternly. “What we do for a living doesn't take anything away from your hard-earned progress.”

“Yes,” Marlene agrees. “You're actually facing your fears, which is the most difficult thing anyone can do.”

“And he's not the only one,” Lily whispers, looking at Remus.

Remus bites his lip, because she isn't wrong. Remus has been having… not the easiest time himself.

Sirius needs to learn by exposure that it's safe for him to go outside on his own and he doesn't have to be afraid, and it won't be at all helpful for his progress if his boyfriend would prefer to lock him up inside a room where nothing bad can ever happen to him ever again. Sirius is working very hard in exposure therapy, and the last thing Remus wants is to make it more difficult for him by adding his own worries. Just like Sirius, Remus needs to learn nothing bad is going to happen when Sirius goes out on his own.

But then again, Remus didn't think anything bad was going to happen when Sirius went out for a run that one morning.

“This looks wonderful, James,” Fabian and Gideon say in unison, looking at the table covered with food.

Lily nudges James. “Make a toast, honey.”

Mary looks around the room threateningly, making Peter cower. “My make-up is on point today, so no one dare make me cry.”

James chuckles. “I'll keep it short then. Here's to Christmas Eve all together as it should be!”

Everyone holds up their glasses. “To Christmas Eve all together!”

But before they can all start to eat, Remus scrapes his throat and gets to his feet. “I actually have something to say as well.”

“I'm warning you, Lupin…” Mary says with a glare.

“Last year, I thought I was never going to spend Christmas with you ever again,” Remus speaks, turning to Sirius, who is, of course, sitting next to him. “And that made me realize I never want to spend Christmas without you ever again. Apparently, never leaving you out of my sight for a single moment is considered ‘unhealthy’ according to my therapist. So, since I can't glue myself to your side all day, at least I want to come home to you at the end of the day. Always.” Remus drops down to one knee and pulls out a square box from his inner pocket. He flips it open, displaying an elegant, silver ring. “Sirius Orion Black. Will you marry me?”

“Oh my god.” Sirius presses his hands to his mouth as tears well up in his eyes. “Rem…Really? I mean, are you sure?” He takes one of Remus’ hands in his own, the tears now streaming down his face. “I know I like to show how much better I'm doing, but the truth is, I'm still such a mess. Gods, Rem, I can barely go outside by myself! Are you sure you want to be dealing with all of that?”

“One hundred percent,” Remus replies instantly, though his voice is a little choked by the emotions. “Everything. Forever.”

Sirius searches Remus’ eyes for a moment. “Yes,” he then says. “Yes. Please, yes.” He lets himself fall forward into Remus’ arms.

“Damn you, Remus Lupin,” Mary sobs, mascara streaks running down her cheeks.

“Sorry,” Remus says, but he actually isn't sorry at all. Not with his Christmas miracle in his arms.

[creative-frequency]

Yay! I'm glad to hear that Rook's wyvern has struck a chord with you (and others? oh, my! I'm actually so flustered and flattered right now, thank you for telling me 🥹)! Also, what do you think the of the wyvern being named 'Knight' or 'Queen' (you know, because Rook is called 'Rook')?

Anyway! How do you think that first meeting between the wyvern and Lucanis went (at least from Luncanis's perspective)? Like was he about to arrive at the Lighthouse for the first time before Rook is all, 'Oh! Hey, Lucanis, one last thing before we arrive. You don't have any wyvern poison on you, right? My wyvern companion will want to give you a quick sniff and she might mistake you for a rival if that's the first thing she smells on you.' Would Lucanis even believe it until he sees it?

This man better be ready for the good things that are about to happen to him 💚

Rook's Wyvern: First Meeting with Lucanis

The wyvern should definitely be named something royal like Queen, Marquis, or Baron.

Let’s go with Baroness for this one! She would have blue stripes across her scales.

Lucanis would be so dumbstruck at Rook’s unexpected inquiry that he would have to process the information in pieces: “What? Why would I have wyvern poison on me? And, what do you mean by ‘my wyvern companion’? Wait. You have a wyvern? Here?”

Rook is not sure if the assassin is terrified or not.

Cue three different variations of the question: “You have an actual wyvern? How?”

When he gets the confusion cleared, palpable enthusiasm quickly follows. Rook is baffled, while Lucanis is vibrating with excitement but desperately tries to rein it down.

After Lucanis is introduced to the other Veilguard members and settled down (and Spite has calmed down), Rook would suggest that they go meet the Baroness now – if Lucanis can afford the time, of course.

“Yes. Lead the way.” The man would not hesitate. If this turns out to be an elaborate joke or a misunderstanding, all his hopes and dreams will be crushed.

It’s better to be proactive rather than wait for Baroness to realise there is a new person in her territory aka the Lighthouse.

Lucanis would try to play it cool because they only just met with Rook and he wants to make a professional impression, but damn it’s hard not to geek out.

He would coolly (not really) mention that he has been really interested in wyverns ever since he was a boy.

Rook would be so relieved to hear this because normally they have to persuade people into this meeting process that is meant for their own safety.

Lucanis waits a good distance away at first.

Rook has their way of calling the Baroness and when she arrives, Lucanis is completely amazed as he stares at the real live wyvern. For a small moment, everything is worth it.

Lucanis would be floored by the way Rook handles the astonishing creature. Even Spite would be impressed at the presence and bond those two command.

Rook talks to the wyvern like one talks to an intelligent creature and introduces Lucanis with a heavy emphasis on “He is part of our team.”

Rook motions Lucanis to stay still. Baroness takes a sniff of the air, then carefully paces closer to sniff his clothes before backing away and leaving.

Lucanis is still staring.

“Curious. She likes you.”

He wants to hear everything about Baroness and what Rook knows about wyverns. Rook will promise Baroness will surely allow him to pet her if he would like to.

This is the best thing that has happened to Lucanis in his whole life.

[canonicallyobserving911]

Season 8A: Date and time discrepancies

While I was live blogging episode 8x8, I posted a question about the time frame when Eddie told Brad it had only been three months since Chris went to Texas but I knew then it was BS because it didn't make any narrative sense (linked here).

Recently, I've seen a few speculation posts about the time frame and some were alluding to the idea that viewers should just get over it but when things deal with dates, time, numbers and money, I can't because I'm a "left-brain" or logical and analytical thinker and things have to make sense to me for them to be believable. Also, if it's said in CANON without proof, then I'm going to try my best to understand WTH they're doing. Granted I know 9-1-1 has LOTS OF DISCREPANCIES especially with characters' ages (Buck, Eddie, Chris and Denny to name a few and I've already posted about them numerous times) but the time difference Eddie mentioned is significant and I won't ignore it. Instead of drafting a brand-new post about this, I'm going to include my notes from a chapter in a fic I'm updating today since IMO, it's the only logical explanation for the discrepancy.

"As of episode 8x8, Chris had been in El Paso for 6 months because there’s no way he could have only been gone for 3 months since he’s in school (here in the U.S., new school years begin in early to mid-August) and he’s in the chess club.  Additionally, Buck’s relationship started in April and it’s CANON that it lasted for 6 months, therefore since Chris left L.A. at the end of May, it means he’s been in Texas for 6 months and the CANON date on Eddie’s iPad during their last FaceTime call was listed as November which further validates my claim.  This isn’t the only time ‘inconsistency’ the show has included, in fact there have been a lot of them.  It’s interesting because it shouldn’t be one at all but I’m also not surprised since they RETCON things whenever they want to without a valid explanation (looking at Buck’s, Eddie’s, Chris’, Shannon’s and Denny’s ages).  Be clear, Chris has been gone for 6 months and I won’t debate that fact since 3 months doesn’t make any narrative sense.  If he would have only been gone for 3 months, he wouldn’t already be enrolled in school." I think TM (showrunner) retconned the time Chris has been gone because HE DIDN’T REALIZE VIEWERS WERE GOING TO BE PISSED THAT CHRIS HAS BEEN AWAY FROM EDDIE THAT LONG.  His lack of planning and outlining the season in advance and making last minute changes to the script is the cause and I’ve said this before, when a person fails to plan, they’re planning to fail and during the summer months, TM admitted during an interview that he doesn’t plan seasons in advance.  Since he doesn’t do it like he should, 9-1-1 ends up with time, age and continuity issues that show up, they end up being cluster f~cks and it’s been this way since season 5 but I digress.

I included this in my notes for Chapter 7 of my fanfic titled, “I can’t imagine anything more painful than going through life alone. Except maybe one thing… going through death alone.” While I was writing it, this seems to be the only plausible explanation for the difference stated unless Buck's still in a coma like I explained he could be in my "Buddie Crack Theory" (linked here).

TM (showrunner) said during the hiatus last summer (linked here) that he doesn't plan seasons out in advance which is a shame and it's the reason why everything is so messed up now. He makes last minute changes and they end up being noticeable with the pacing, editing, timing and continuity.

TL:DR: Basically, TM had the writers include Eddie saying "Chris had been in El Paso for 3 months" because viewers are pissed at the amount of time Eddie and Chris have been away from each other. I mentioned this would be an issue at the beginning of the season and it still is (linked here). Since we know better and we know how to count, he can't just haphazardly stick an arbitrary number of months into a scene and believe no one will notice.

I noticed it and I won't just move on from this because it matters and Eddie's storyline should have been handled better but I digress.

[obsessivestar]

'What If It's All A RomCom?' - a Ted Nivison x Reader

{{-I'm back! Thank you so much for your patience, I'm doing a lot better and I've got a lot of ideas stirring up in my brain. Hopefully this is the last hiatus I need to take. Y'all are an amazing community and I'm glad to be a part of it ♡-}}

//General Warnings: 18+ Fix (MINORS DNI), Reader is implied to be afab and under 5'5.

Chapter Warnings: Flirting, maybe angst? Hmmm\\

Word Count: 3.8k

☆▪︎▪︎▪︎Taglist!▪︎▪︎▪︎☆

@k-k0129 , @callsign-scully & @limecorpse

☆Love Ya To Death!☆

Chapter 16: Guess (Guess)

As usual, I find myself waking up pressed against Ted's chest, both of my arms loosely wrapped around his bare body. I already know he's awake, I can feel his fingers running little patterns on my back. Before I let him know I'm up, I concentrate on his touch, trying to see if I can guess what the shape is. I feel his chest hair tickling my cheek a little, our legs intertwined under the covers, his weight shifted a little so he wasn't crushing my left arm. Little hearts. He's drawing little hearts on my back. This guy....

"Wakey wakey..." Ted whispers to me in a sing-song tone, making the little hearts he's trailing on my back a little bigger to get more of my attention. Either he's been urging me to wake up little by little, or he's already aware I'm awake. God, he's the sweetest. I can't believe there was a time where I wasn't waking up in his arms. I don't think I ever wanna go back to waking up alone...

"For real, though, we gotta be downstairs in like...15 minutes.." Ted clears his tone, using the full palm of his hand to rub my back up and down, urging me more to wake up. I can't help but let out a little laugh, pulling back from his chest slightly so I can look up at him, taking in his handsome features while I still can.

"What, we can't--" My sentence is cut off by my own voice cracking, my throat dry as ever. An amused chuckle leaves Ted, stretching away from me for a moment to grab his water bottle, returning to my side after to hand it to me.

"Mine was bad when I woke up, too.." Ted spoke with a smile, watching as I take his water from him to take a good, long sip. I can hear Ted let out another low chuckle as I drink up over half of his water before finally pulling back with a heavy exhale. Fuck, I didn't realize I was so thirsty until now. I guess I should've had more to drink last night. I give Ted a thankful smile as I hand his water bottle back to him, watching him set it aside again before facing me once more, both of us now sitting up a bit in his bed.

"There, you were sayin'?.." Ted gestures to me with a smirk. I can tell he's amused with all of this, not just from the water, but from me being in his room. It's a nice change. He looks proud, he looks confident. Honestly, his mattress feels better than mine, though I'm probably only feeling this way because he's in it, for once.

"I was going to say 'we can't lay together for a bit?' but I think I can guess why.." I admit with a smile, adjusting myself so I wasn't pushing all of my weight down on my elbow.

"Oh, you can guess, huh?" Ted raises a curious brow at me, his confident smirk still spread along his blush toned lips.

"Yeah, I've got a good guess.." I return with a confident, but flirty tone, smiling back at him.

"Go on then. Guess."

"Yeah? You want me to?"

"Yeah. Guess."

"You turned our alarms off again, didn't you?"

"I absolutely did."

My guess being correct makes me lean my head back and laugh, adjusting myself so it was now my hand holding me up, pressing down on Ted's mattress. "Why?!" I laugh in disbelief, playfully furrowing my brows at Ted. "Why do you keep doing that?? We have a job to do, Teddy!"

"I-I like you gettin' your beauty sleep, babe!" Ted raises his hands defensively with a devilish little grin, shrugging slightly. "Ya needed the rest! I could tell!"

"I don't need beauty--why do you call me babe now?"

"I've called you babe before, why are you surprised?" Ted tilts his head a little and narrows his eyes. "You've got that babe vibe, I was thinkin' about it earlier. You've got the 'tude of a babe."

"The tude? Like the attitude?"

"Yeah."

"The attitude of a babe?"

"Yeah!"

"I thought I was a princess?"

"You can be both."

"I get 2 pet names now?"

"Yeah, you can have many names. Babe, Princess, pain in my ass, kindofalittlewhoorreee..." Ted purrs.

I playfully roll my eyes as Ted lists off some 'pet names', watching him leaning in slightly. I can't help but shake my head a little, a huff leaving me as my eyes meet Ted's once more. "Yknow, I was perfectly fine before you corrupted me.." I speak, loosely crossing my arms in front of my chest, still completely bare from last night.

"Corrupted you? What?" Ted narrowes his eyes again at me, lightly gliding his tongue along the ends of his top teeth. "What does that mean?"

"Before you made me this way, this--this--I.." I try to find the right words, but my mind immediately blanks out once Ted moves in a little closer, the tip of his nose lightly brushing against mine. It's like his every move is sucking the words out of my head. He knows it, too. He's got that stupid smile on his face again. He knows what he does to me.

"Wow, I really get you goin'.." Ted purrs, lowering his voice a little on purpose. I roll my eyes again, lightly frustrated at how effortlessly he makes me breathless.

"Stop trying to seduce me for like 5 seconds, I'm trying to compliment you." I let out a breathy chuckle as I speak, fixing up my hair a little.

"Can't help it, you're just really easy to seduce now.." Ted gives a casual shrug, his gaze flicking down to my lips as he speaks. "Now I can kiss ya whenever I want, it's hard."

"Kissing me's hard?"

"Not kissin' you's hard."

Ted gives me a small peck on the lips and gives me a little smile. I see a longing sparkle appear in his dark eyes as he meets my gaze once more before flicking down to my lips again. I can read him clearly. He wants more. He always wants a little more...

Ted's hand rests on my cheek as he leans in to properly connect our lips in a warm, wanting kiss. I return the kiss, allowing our lips to move together slowly, intimately. I feel lighter, I feel like we've risen up above the clouds, our lips cupping one another, hugging, enjoying, keeping us above the rest of the world. I feel like this everytime we kiss, everytime he gives me exactly what I'm longing for; what I'm thinking about. Nothing else compares. Not even pot comes close to getting me as high as Ted does. It's maddening. He's maddening. I'm sure I have the same effect on him.

"Told ya.." Ted breaks the kiss briefly to speak, a dry snicker bubbling out of his throat when I reach to place my free hand on his bare shoulder, moving in a little to lose myself in his embrace once more, until we're inevitably interrupted yet again...

I'm suddenly reminded of where we're supposed to be when I hear Joe and Tanner speaking to each other out in the hall, their conversation becoming quieter as they move downstairs for the day. Their voices cause me to break away from the kiss completely, my gaze going over to Ted's closed door. I keep forgetting that there are other people sleeping here every night. I'm sure Joe would've complained if anyone's actually heard Ted and I by now, but still, it makes me feel weird. I feel bad.

"Well, there it is.." Ted smirks, pulling away from me to move out of bed for the day. He grabs a pair of boxers for himself first before he tosses my pajamas over to me one by one. "Duty calls, princess.."

A bashful chuckle escapes me, moving my body to sit at the edge of Ted's bed so I could properly get dressed. I'm gonna have to go right into my room to change into something else, but I'm not takin' that walk naked. "Y'know, I'm starting to think we should slow down a little.." I admit with a shy smile, standing up off the bed as I slip my pajama pants back up.

"Slow down?" Ted repeats, his confidence wavering ever so slightly. "If this is about last night, I did offer my face.."

I stop and look at Ted, furrowing my brows. His face? What is he talking about? Last night we--

Oh.

"Wha--oh my god, no--" I sound completely embarrassed. I am embarrassed--

Right.

"I'm saying slow down because there's other people that sleep here every night, not because you didn't eat me out last night." I laugh a little, moving over to stand by him.

"M'kay, I was about to say.." Ted chuckles lightly, flicking his tongue side to side in his mouth as he looks at me. I could never get tired of the way he looks at me after we wake up together. It's like he's admiring his work while planning the next project. Is he always thinking about sex? Well, he is a guy...

"Are you still freakin' out over us leavin' the window open?" Ted asks, gesturing over to the window by his bed. Fuck, I had almost forgotten about that.

"I wasn't until now, thanks for the reminder." Another breathy chuckle leaves me and I put my hand on my hips, my gaze going to Ted's closed door again. I start to think of responses or excuses I could give out if Tanner, Joe or Dan start asking questions. No way am I gonna tell the complete truth.

'Oh don't worry about it, Ted and I were only smoking weed and fucking in his bedroom, just the exact thing you don't want us doing, nothing to fucking worry about there.'

I guess this is the part where I proclaim that it's all for love, but realistically I think I'm just a horrible friend. Sorry, Tanner.

"Guess we'll have to find other places, huh?" Ted speaks up to snap me out of my thoughts, nibbling a little on his lower lip. Oh god, I don't even wanna unpack what that could possibly mean right now, I gotta go get dressed. Still, I can't help but smile. Being with this man is so thrilling. I place both of my hands on Ted's chest and lean up to give a gentle kiss on his lips, grinning softly up at him.

"Get dressed, Theo.." I hum pleasantly, patting his bare chest a little before pulling away completely to exit his room, smiling like a big, proud idiot to myself. I hear Ted chuckle to himself as I close his door.

It doesn't take long for me to change into new clothes and do my usual morning routine, minus doing my makeup, we got a team for that after all. I'm out of my room in about 5 minutes, getting downstairs just in time to watch some of the team clearing out more of the living room. More ballroom dance training, probably. It's the biggest scene of the film, after all. It's gotta be perfect, or close enough.

Dan's helping some of the crew move some of the furniture outside while Tanner and Joe are in the living room with some breakfast and coffee. I watch their reactions closely when they spot me, they don't seem...uncomfortable or anything, though I'd be surprised if Tanner specifically heard anything, his A/C would've tuned out any noises, I'm sure. It's Joe I'm worried about. I walk up to them as they happily beckon me over. They seem eager to talk to me, it must be about the film.

"Hey, there's my favorite lead!" Tanner points at me, a genuine smile lifting his chubbier cheeks. I can instantly confirm that he knows absolutely nothing about last night. Good.

"Good morning.." I give a small smile, moving around Tanner to grab myself a bagel to put in the toaster. I might even make myself a coffee later, I feel a little tired now that I'm out of that room and among other people. "How's everyone feeling?"

"Pretty good. I'm actually getting used to these mattresses." Tanner admits, moving back a bit to give me some room on the kitchen counter. "Slept pretty well."

"Of course you're sleeping well, you've been sleeping on an actual bed 'the last week.." Joe smirks at Tanner, crossing his arms.

"I sleep in a bed otherwise." Tanner adds back, his tone dipped in amusement.

"You sleep on a futon that you've never actually spread out, you just keep it as a couch." Joe spreads his arms as he replies. "You literally sleep on a couch."

"It's a good couch."

"It's older than you are."

"It's reliable."

I'm definitely entertained, but I decide to interject. "I'm surprised you two didn't get married.." I speak up, moving around Joe to grab a plate from the top cupboards. "You bicker every morning.."

"At least we're bickering about couches this time." Tanner replies with a shrug.

"Yeah, we could go back to clitoris-es again." Joe adds with a humorous smirk, sweeping his hand through his mullet.

"Man, that reminds me, I can't believe it's been over a week already." Tanner spesks genuinely, turning his head to look at Joe. "We've been here for over a week.."

How does that remind Tanner of?--y'know what, not even gonna think about it. Tanner's Tanner.

"And we're basically almost done, right?" I ask, moving around the kitchen as the conversation continues. "Did you book us for 3 weeks just in case, or?.."

"Yeah, we're basically halfway done, technically. We're already over halfway done filming." Tanner admits, pulling out his phone to go over his notes.

"We've filmed all of the scenes with the extras during the first 4 days, we've filmed three out of the seven kiss scenes, we've filmed all of the establishing shots, we got the conflict scenes out of the way...it's honestly just a few more scenes and then the dream sequence and then we're done."

Wow, that was wild to think about. We've really been at it for the first week. I remember first walking into this place with Tanner like it was yesterday. I hadn't even noticed Ted until Conner had canceled on us. I mean sure, I met Ted, but I hadn't really noticed him. That's so strange. That's so strange to think about.

"Damn.." Joe speaks up, basically summarizing my thoughts aloud. "I'm proud of you, Tanner. You've worked hard on this."

"Awe, thanks Joe." Tanner's touched by Joe's compliment, setting his phone down on the counter behind him.

"Yeah honestly, I'm proud too man." I speak up as I take my bagels out of the toaster, smiling back at Tanner briefly. "I'm happy you let me be a part this. I love working with you guys."

"Thanks, (Y/N).." Tanner smiles at me as well, giving a little nod of agreement. "It's been so fun, I can't wait for you guys to see the final product. Everything's been literally perfect."

"I mean, it has me in it, it's gonna be perfect." Ted speaks as he comes down the stairs, now sporting a plain white shirt with a comfortable, multi-colored cardigan and some basic blue jeans. I have no idea how he can wear so many layers in California. I guess he's been here long enough to be comfortable with the heat.

"Hey! There's my other favorite lead!" Tanner points out at Ted as he approaches the kitchen, slipping his hands into his jeans pockets. "That's crazy! You're here too!"

"Yeah, it's almost like I'm supposed to be here.." Ted playfully side-eyes Tanner, joining in on the bit. "Some guy ate bad chicken and now I'm supposed to be here, like, every day.."

"You would've been here regardless." Tanner narrows his eyes a little at Ted.

"Yeah, but I'd be behind the camera." Ted adds with a smirk. "Wouldn't have to try on 50 suits to be behind the camera."

"Maybe you would've. Maybe I would've made you try on 50 suits."

"You would've made me try on 50 suits? For what?"

"Yeah, maybe, for Conner. He probably would've needed help."

"I can't believe he did that, man.." Joe speaks up, slowly shaking his head as he presses his finger and his thumb into the bridge of his nose. "This entire thing almost didn't happen because Conner decided to get KFC at 12 in fucking the morning--fucking, Conner.."

"It's kinda funny." Tanner adds with a light shrug, smirking slightly.

"It is kinda funny.." Joe immediately agrees with a little point to Tanner, cackling out some. "But it's only funny because Ted saved your asses, let's be real.."

"I'm glad I stepped in but I'll admit, it's weird not bein' the one directing.." Ted smirks, moving to stand at my side as I spread butter along my bagel. "I went to film school to direct, not act."

"You're surprisingly good at it." Tanner adds with a genuine smile. That would probably sound sarcastic if it were coming out of anyone else. "Oh! That reminds me. Ted, I wanna get your opinion on some of the shots from the other day."

"Yeah, sure, we goin' upstairs?" Ted asks, pointing back at the stairs. As they continue to speak, they begin moving over to head upstairs, leaving Joe and I in the kitchen.

"Yeah, your room okay?" Tanner asks, placing his hand on the railing as they move up.

"Yea--oh, uhh..." I hear Ted stammer nervously, giving me a knowing glance. "We, uh, we could look at it in your room.."

"...Why?" Tanner sounds genuinely confused. "You have the better setup."

"Yeah, but..." Ted pauses again, moving slower up the stairs. "...everything's gonna be edited on your PC anyways, right?..."

"...Yeah, alright. Makes sense."

Phew.

I turn my attention back to my breakfast, only to see that Joe is giving me a look. Oh boy, here we go.

"You two aren't even subtle anymore.." Joe speaks with a smirk, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I...have no idea what you're talking about.." I feign ignorance, playfully turning my nose up at Joe. Honestly, I have no idea how to handle this situation gracefully. He clearly knows something, but I don't know how much he knows. I feel him move to stand more beside me, leaning back against the kitchen counter with his arms still crossed.

"Oh you don't?" Joe speaks up after a bit of silence, turning his body to face me completely. "You sure about that? Because I can smell the strain on you."

I pause what I'm doing, furrowing my brows in genuine confusion. Huh? "Strain?" I repeat, turning to look at Joe fully.

"Yeah, the strain I got for Ted the other day? The one you two smoked last night?"

My first instinct, for some reason, is to laugh. I cover my mouth to hold back my laughter, a humorous frown forcing the corners of my lips down. I'm not even upset that Joe has caught us. Of course he's the one that gave Ted weed, I should've seen it coming. Joe doesn't even seem to be mad either, at all. He starts having to hold back his own laughter, shaking his head at me.

"You guys are fucking bad, man." Joe crosses his arms again, a slight snicker slipping out. "Tanner smelled it when we passed Ted's room. I had to tell him there was a skunk outside last night!"

"Okay to be fair! To be fair--" I start to speak over Joe a little, still trying to contain my laughter. "I didn't plan to smoke with him! He started smoking before I even went in there!"

"You were in there with him before though."

"Yeah, to record his podcast, not to smoke with him! The smoking came after."

"After you had sex?"

"No, before we had sex, but I had a good reason!"

"Oh my god, (Y/N)..."

"I had a good reason!"

"Of course you did.."

"No I'm serious!"

"I'm sure it was a great reason.."

"Joseph!" I laugh, playfully swatting at him. "I mean it! Okay I know it's gonna sound bad, but the reason's good, I swear!"

"Oh I know, (Y/N), I'm well aware.."

"He--oh my god, Joe--We talked about your wedding!"

I expected Joe to look relieved, but if anything he looked...frustrated, maybe even a little upset? I could feel the entire vibe of the conversation shift. It starts to make me feel uncomfortable. The tension is heavy, and I'm not sure why.

"He finally told you what happened?" Joe asked, finally uncrossing his arms. "He had to get you high to tell you what happened?"

"Okay when you say it like that, it sounds bad." I shrug a little, letting out a chuckle to try and difuse the strange amount of tension in the room. "We're not teenagers, Joseph. I can handle myself. I was fine."

"You're fine?.." Joe repeats, narrowing his eyes at me. His visible frustration shifts into concern. I watch him shift a bit against the counter, his eyes looking me over, like he's looking for something. "...I figured you'd be more upset."

"Why would I be upset?" I ask with another little chuckle, crossing my own arms in front of my chest. "Because he originally went with his girlfriend? Why would that make me upset?"

"No, I just..." Joe's cut off by the sound of Ted and Tanner coming back down the stairs, glancing back briefly before turning to me again.

"So Ted told you everything last night?" Joe asks me, raising a brow at me.

"Yes." I answer simply, giving him a nod.

"Everything?"

"Yes! I'm not upset, I'm flattered, if anything.."

Joe seems to process my answer, but he doesn't look relieved. I watch as he turns back to look at Ted, who's getting his ear talked off by Tanner. Ted's gaze moves to Joe and I, his smile fading a little. I can't see what look Joe is giving him, but it's making Ted look a little uncomfortable. What's going on? What's the big deal? I thought Joseph would be happy for us. Ted clearly had a hard time telling me the truth last night, but he ultimately did. I'm happy he was able to open up, whatever it took.

Joseph turns to me again, the concern and frustration in his face completely gone. Maybe he's just upset that Ted had to get us high to tell the truth, but that's better than hiding it, right?

"...Alright, if you say so.." Joe sighs, taking his coffee off the kitchen counter. "Rehersal is in 20 minutes, if you're gonna make some coffee, do it now, and you might wanna go shower.."

"A-Alright.." I nod a little, watching Joe turn away and leave the kitchen. That was odd. I know I haven't smoked in years, but I'm not a teenager anymore, I can handle a bit of marijuana. I don't plan to smoke with him again, it was just for fun.

That can't be what Joe's so upset about, can it?...

__________________________________

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 (smut) || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 (smut) || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 (smut) || Chapter 15 ||

[realseascourge]

come on guys vodka beach party

[heyitslapis]

Ok

[humanityinahandbag]

I'd like to tell you all a story about my grandmother.

My grandparents raised their children, four girls (one of them my mother), to be fighters. My aunts marched in Washington for women's rights with babies strapped to their chests and like to joke that all of the grandchildren who came from that line (including myself) were born with picket signs in their hands.

But it started with my grandparents. They fought hard for what they believed in. They marched against Vietnam. They marched for Martin Luther King. They marched for women's rights. They marched for a better future.

But let's talk specifically about my grandmother for a moment.

My grandmother unfortunately passed away in 2016. She had to watch the first Trump election and did so knowing that it would probably be the last election she'd ever see. And there is some argument there that she could have given in to fear and defeatism. She could have decided none of it was worth it, and she could have decided that fascism had won and the world was over.

But she did something else instead.

To give some context, my grandparents had friends who were Republicans. I say were, because they shifted from the normal Republican towards the MAGA Republican we see today. And despite a very clear message from my family about how we felt, they were more than ready to still come to the funeral as if everything was normal. Like their beliefs were normal. Like they were welcome to celebrate someone who had fought so hard for the rights of other people.

These were people who would have absolutely used their rhetoric to scream and shout if they were left out or disinvited.

And so my grandmother, even past her final moments, pulled the most brilliant, petty move I've ever seen.

She'd decided ahead of time that everyone who had known her was more than welcome to attend but that she wanted everyone attending the funeral to donate money. That was the requirement to be invited. And so everyone did just that. There was no talk about what the donations were for, just that they were appreciated. I want to say that the assumption was the money would help pay for funeral expenses and give the family some support while we grieved.

Except that wasn't the case.

Because in those final moments of the funeral, the rabbi stepped forward to thank everyone, and then very cheerfully announced;

"Arlene was so happy to know just how many people were coming to join us here today. She couldn't have been more proud of her family. And I'm sure she would have been elated to see just how much money you all gave today to Planned Parenthood."

When I say that the faces of those people are enshrined in my memory, I mean it. The anger, the devastation, the rage, the betrayal. It was an absolutely gorgeous display of true defeat at the hands of a boss ass old lady who literally fought with her last breath and threw up both middle fingers all the way out the door.

What I'm saying is this.

It is very easy to feel defeated. It is very easy to think that everything is over, and there's nothing left for us to do. It's very easy to say that fascism won, that fear won, that hate won.

But that's only true if you let it be true.

There is always more that we can do. There is a future that is still worth fighting for. And it's more than possible, even when it doesn't seem like it.

And fighting is going to look different every time.

Some days it will look like picket signs in our hands.

Some days it will look like spending time with friends and family and people you love and knowing that you have a community that supports you and your vision of a brighter future.

And some days, it's pulling absolute natural level 20 petty trickster shit even after you've left the world.

Because you can always make an impact and you can always add a little brightness to life, and if that means tricking a group of MAGA idiots into throwing their money behind Planned Parenthood in the middle of your own goddamn funeral then that's what it means.

Keep fighting. People have done it before you. People will continue to do it after you.

And enjoy the little victories.

(Even the petty ones)

[adore-gregor]

my perception of grades totally changed since i started uni

[slippery-minghus]

hoooooooo okay. new cover letter written, resume is ready to go, let's fuckiN DO THIS.

[homunculus-argument]

One worldbuilding thing that's always fun to do is take something you've encountered in the real world, and apply something similar with the same logic into your own. Like those sayings that have two halves, but people usually only know the first half and misunderstand the saying - like "birds of a feather flock together (until the cat comes)" or "great minds think alike (but fools rarely differ)." So I came up with a few for The Book I'm Not Writing:

Hungry dogs are loyal dogs (until someone else feeds them) - neglecting and mistreating your underlings may work as a short-term tactic for making them obey, but it's also a guarantees that they'll betray you at first chance.

The mouth of an idiot is as loose as the strings of their purse (so be there when gold may drop out) - just because nine out of ten things that someone says are completely useless doesn't mean you should dismiss them altogether. They might still know useful things, even if they can't tell it's useful.

Blood makes a foul dye (it stains, but it won't last) - here "foul" is often interpreted as "brutal" or "gruesome", when it's meant as "of low quality". Using violence as your way to establish dominance and maintain authority because it's easier than building networks of mutual trust and respect is as stupid and short-sighted as using blood to dye clothes because it's cheaper than proper pigment.

A fool will starve to death while waiting for grain to grow (but it is also a fool who'll slaughter an ewe an hour before it lambs) - Immediate problems require immediate solutions, but you'd better make sure that your drastic emergency solution is the right one.

A blind horse will go as you guide where a half-blind one dare not (both through the darkness and down a cliff) - an agent who doesn't know the purpose of their task will obey blindly, where one that knows some part of it might disobey out of distrust, but neither is as reliable as one that does see the big picture, can draw their own conclusions from the information they gather, and adjust their plans accordingly.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Third Wheel

Dark!SatoSugu x reader

(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, dark, misogynistic language, delusional behavior, kidnapping, blood, violence, +ShokoHime x reader, choking (not in the sexy way tho), threesomes, oral!F!recieving)

Synopsis: Regardless of what Satoru and Suguru tell you, you've always felt left out in this relationship. But when you leave, you quickly find out there's no line your ex-lovers won't cross to get you back

Word Count: 7.3k

When you come home that night, they're already cuddled together, watching TV. 

It's cute. Your boyfriends were always so loose with their affection. When Suguru was cooking, Satoru would lean on his back, more than happy to talk his ear off. Suguru would hold Satoru's waist, steadying him, being his anchor. At night, you'd catch them reaching for each other, trying to hold hands even in their sleep. 

It's clear to even the blind: they are soulmates. 

And you were just extra baggage. 

You don't know how you caught their eyes, but this past year was fun. They've been sweet, both of them have. Inviting you into their lives, into their home, into their bed. Everything moved so fast, but you didn't mind. You were young and a bit spontaneous. Two beautiful men showing a glimpse of interest in you wasn't something you could pass up. This was nice, while it lasted. 

But unlike them, you aren't forever. Their bond would never come close to anything they could have with you. 

It took a while for you to accept that, but eventually, you did. 

"Hey, babe," Satoru calls. "Rough day?" He lazily waves you over. Suguru grunts, before shifting over to make space. 

Despite it all, you're a coward. You don't announce it; you just stare at them. Fondly. Yes, this was nice. You don't think you could handle telling them, though; that would be too much. Seeing how little they cared would break you. 

"Yeah." You give. "Rough day." 

You weave through the house. It's theirs. Not yours. That they've made clear. You're an afterthought. It's the little things. Their toothbrushes are together, yours on the other side of the sink. Their shoes were neatly stacked side by side, and yours were always tucked away in a corner. Left out. Forgotten. Why wouldn't it be like that? They've been together for years. You were still an outsider. 

You only have a little to grab. You just grab your extra clothes, the hair clips you have a terrible habit of leaving around. Just a few items. And then the bedroom looks like you'd never been there at all. 

When you come back out, they don't notice your suitcase. Satoru laughs loudly at something happening on screen. Suguru chides him sternly. Good. It's better this way, you think as you take your suitcase to your car. You don't need any additional heartbreak. 

You make a few more rounds, collecting everything you need. Suguru only catches you when you are about to leave their house forever. 

"Angel?" He calls. "Where are you going?" 

He's looking at you, head tilted in mild curiosity. You manage to smile, looking down at your car keys. 

"Out for a drive." You shrug. "I'll be back." 

Suguru takes it at face value. He lets you go with a small 'have fun'. The walk to the car is heavy. Metal dumbbells on your shoulders. 

When you get in the seat, you finally allow yourself to sob. 

~

I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore

That's how you ended the wall of text before blocking them. It was the coward's way out. 

"No." Utahime's quick to tell you. "It's the only way. Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise." 

You shouldn't be so quick to listen to her, considering she hates them both. Still, she was more than happy to offer you her home while you picked yourself back up, and started looking for an apartment. You'll humor her for the time being. 

"She's right," Shoko pipes up. Her dark circles are even more prominent tonight. You guiltily think it has more to do with you than with her patients, but she and Utahime have insisted that you stay with them. 

"It was for my sake, more than theirs." You say honestly, tucking yourself into the couch. "They...don't care about me. At least, not like they do each other." 

Utahime rolls her eyes. "You are blind." She says. "Those two were obsessed with you. I'm just glad you got out while you could." 

You laugh, but it beats crying all over again. Utahime doesn't find what she said as funny. She chides you again, something about being oblivious before she settles down to watch the movie she put on. Shoko falls asleep right at the intermission. Her head falls against your shoulder. Utahime leans against you too. And it's nice to have friends to fill the void they left. 

~

Satoru appears first. 

You woke up later than you would have liked. Your eyes are itchy and red from crying all night. Utahime was more than happy to give you her guestroom, but you know you can't take advantage of her kindness for too long. Tomorrow, you'll start apartment hunting. 

Today, you'd sit on the couch and eat ice cream. 

When you go downstairs, you hear a hushed whisper. Utahime's by the door, using her body to keep someone out. She looks angry. 

"-No one's here but me. Now get the fuck off my property." She seethes. 

You recognize his voice. You aren't ready. "Have you heard anything? Anything at all?" 

"No." Utahime gripes. "So go, Gojo-" 

He catches your eyes. Your heart gets stuck in your throat. 

He's taller than her. It takes little to no effort to barrel through her body, easily shoving her aside to get to you. You flinch, his touch burns when he grabs you, pulling you into his arms. 

"Oh, baby." He sighs into your hair. "There you are. Missed you." 

It's too soon. You aren't ready. You can still feel the emotions bubble up from that night, when you collapsed in Utahime's arms, sobbing your heart out. This wasn't fair. They never made it fair. 

You cast a glance at Utahime. She was scowling, close to boiling right over the edge. It gives you enough strength to try to push Gojo off, but he only lets go, when he wants to. 

"Okay." He smiles, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon. Let's go home. You had us both so worried for a sec, but if we explain everything to Suguru it'll be okay." 

You find your voice then. As well as your strength. His grip on your hand isn't all that tight. It slips away when you gently shake him off. Satoru stops, confused. 

"Satoru..." You start. "Didn't you get my text?" 

He rolls his shoulders, agitated. "Yeah, but-but it doesn't matter." 

There it was. His lovable personality. Casual careless, nonchalance. For once, you aren't annoyed by it. Maybe your grief made you numb to it. 

"I did mean it," you say as plainly as you can, "every word." 

He freezes. You smile at Utahime. 

"Could you give us some time?" You ask. 

She frowns, but she's never been able to say no to you. 

"Ten minutes." She finally says, before she's marching back to the kitchen. You still hear her muttering while leading Satoru back to your room. 

"I'm sorry." He says when the door shuts behind him. 

"For what?" 

He runs a hand through his hair, taking off those glasses he loves so much. You can't look him in the eyes for too long. It brings up too many memories. 

"I fucked up, right?" He says, he sounds desperate. You've never heard him sound like this before. "I'm sorry. I dunno what I did, but I'm sorry." 

You shrug, picking at the lint of your sleeves. "You didn't do anything. I just...it felt like a good point to just-" 

"-Leave us?" He cuts in. "Come home, baby. I'm so sorry, just come home and we'll figure this out." You look away because you can feel the tears burn up. 

"You didn't do anything." You insist, but your voice is weaker. 

"Was it Suguru? Did he do some bullshit?" Satoru interrogates. "What'd he do? I'll kick his ass, I promise." You hide your smile underneath your sleeves. 

"He didn't do anything either," you assure, "neither of you did." 

He's getting more and more desperate. "Then why did you leave us? What's wrong with us? Why can't we go home and talk this out? Please come back, baby; home doesn't feel like home without you." 

Isn't this what you wanted? A confession. Evidence that they wanted you just as much as they wanted each other. Satoru certainly did. Suguru did, too, considering how hurt Satoru implied him to be. A week ago, you might have been over the moon, too wallowed in self-pity to do anything but agree, run back into their arms, and willingly sink back into 2nd place all over again. 

But the thought of going back to their home makes you feel sick. 

"I can't." You decide. "I just can't. It's over, Satoru." 

I'm sorry. You keep that last line to yourself because you're too scared to crack in front of him. Shatter. Splinter. 

Satoru doesn't share the same sentiment. You hear movement, and when you look up, he's crying. 

A part of you wants to hug him, but you hold yourself back because he isn't yours anymore, and maybe he never was. Still, it hurts seeing him like this. The piece of you that still wanted him is ready to forgive and forget. Your vindictiveness keeps it at bay. 

"That's not fucking fair." He's saying through his tears, even when he's crying, he's beautiful, "You-you can't just ditch us like this. You don't get it; we can't live without you. It's killing us; you're killing us, baby." He staggers forward, in a way that makes you afraid he might fall. In the end, he just collapses on the bed. Eventually, you take a seat next to him. 

He's looking around, you catch him eyeing the pile of clothes in the laundry basket. The hair ties on top of the drawer. The plushies on the bed. You think it might finally be starting to sink that that you're truly gone. 

"Suguru can't sleep these days, y'know that?" He starts, a sardonic laugh in his throat. "He pretends to, but he can't. He stays up all night just wishing you'd come home. The guy is miserable without you, and you can't even gimme a fucking answer." 

His voice cuts you just the way it's supposed to. You wince, feeling his words slice into his skin, finding their way into your heart. You look at his shoes for a moment. He didn't bother to remove them. Maybe that's another reason why Utahime was so pissed. 

"I was starting to feel like an afterthought with you two." You speak. "I mean, it makes sense, you two were together, first. I thought the barrier would just take time to go away....but then it didn't." 

How many times has Suguru taken Satoru's hand over yours? How many times has Satoru forgotten your drink but not Suguru's? How many inside jokes you didn't understand? You always felt petty for being jealous over the tiniest things, but those tiny things kept getting bigger and bigger until it felt like they'd been purposely building that barrier themselves.

You were sick of feeling like the third wheel in your relationship. 

"Baby..." Satoru's voice is tinged in guilt and you can't look at him because you can feel the tears start to well up. "I-I didn't realize." He grabs your hand. 

"Come home." He pleads. "We'll fix it, I promise. We'll be better. We'll do better." 

You shake your head, slipping away from his grip. 

"It's too late." Your voice is shaky. Please let him not notice. Please, please, please for once can his oblivious about everything but his one and only work in your favor? "You can't fix anything, Satoru. Not now." 

"You haven't even given us a chance to-" 

"You should go." You stand up. Satoru follows you out the door. Utahime's already outside. She catches your eyes and nods. 

"Gojo." She speaks, tone clipped. "Get the fuck out of my house." 

He stills, frozen like the prettiest painting in the world. His eyes turn to ice as he stares at her. Utahime doesn't budge. If anything, she advances, pulling you close, acting like a human barrier between you and your ex-boyfriend. You take it immediately, nestling into her side, taking refuge from his icy stare. 

There's silence. You only relax when you hear his footsteps fade and the door slams ricochets into the apartment. And that's when you break down into Utahime's arms completely, letting her coo you into comfort. 

"Maybe I am being overdramatic," you say when Shoko comes back later that day. Utahime was enraged since Satoru left, pacing around the apartment. It's only after both you and Shoko coaxed her back into the couch that she calms down enough to take a seat next to you. 

"Maybe this whole thing is ridiculous. I-I should just go back and-"

"No." Shoko is immediately saying voice firm. "Absolutely Not." 

You can smell the hint of smoke when she came back from the hospital. You try not to assume it's because of you. 

"No way in hell are we letting you go back there after what he did." Utahime gripes. 

"He didn't do anything." You argue. "I swear, I-I was just...being pathetic." 

Warm hands lift your head up. You struggle, still shuddering from your sobs as Utahime forces you to look at her. 

Her eyes are brown. Not as glittery as Satoru's, who's eyes shine like the burning sun itself. Not like Suguru, with his celestial purple. No, hers are just brown. 

You didn't realize how beautiful brown eyes could be. Not just the color of home; the color of chocolate; the color of brownies. The way the light cast down at them made them deep and dark, like a night sky. If you looked closer, you could see tiny stars swimming around. 

"Listen. Are you listening?" When you nod, her voice softens. She tucks your hair behind your ear. 

"You deserve better." She insists. "You deserve better than them. So so much better. I know you can't see it right now, but there is better out there waiting for you." Her voice loses all momentum all at once. "Just...trust me, okay?" 

Her desperation to be heard makes you smile a bit. You nod. Her frown loosens, just the tiniest bit. She relaxes. 

"Thanks," you say after a beat. "I...I needed that. I'm glad I have goods friends." 

Utahime's hands drop from your face. She collapses into the couch cushions with a groan. Shoko laughs. 

"Told you." Shoko says, mirth and alcohol on her tongue. 

Utahime flips her off, and Shoko takes her place. She settles into your side. 

"They were assholes." She tells you. "Forget about them. And she's right, you deserve better." 

You were glad they were there for you, even when you weren't there for yourself. It felt nice that they cared. Vouched, Advocated for your comfort. They made better boyfriends than your old boyfriends ever did. Their support helped heal the Satoru and Suguru-sized holes left in your heart. Every day became a bit better. 

When Suguru eventually turned up, you were a bit more prepared. 

He's a bit nicer than Satoru was. He actually knocks, instead of relentlessly pounding on the door. He doesn't barrel through Shoko when he spots you cowering behind her. His face betrays nothing. He's still. A polite smile is stretched on his lips. Shoko isn't happy about letting him into her home, but when she glances at you, you nod. You needed to do this. You needed closure. 

And so did Suguru. 

You don't speak to him until you're shut in your room. Geto cuts the silence first. 

"How have you been?" He asks nicely. 

"Good." You respond. "You?" 

"Good." 

Conversation stilts. You don't know what to say. Luckily, your ex is never the man who stays silent for long. 

"How's living with Shoko and Utahime been?" He asks, "I'm surprised you've put up with them for this long. They were pretty scary in high school." 

"I bet you two were scarier." You counter. 

He smiles. It's soft, looks good on him. You find yourself smiling back. When you take a seat on the the of the bed, he doesn't follow. You don't know whether to feel glad or not. 

"Yeah, I'm not the proudest of those times." He admits with a sheepish laugh. 

It dies down, and you know the artificial barrier between you two has broken. You shift, waiting for the inevitable. 

"Satoru told me what happened." He sighs. "I'm sorry, Angel. We-I didn't know how you felt. Everything was so perfect, I just thought you felt the same." 

"It's fine." You assure, and this time, your throat doesn't clog up, and your eyes don't feel itchy. "Really. It's-it's fine." 

"It's not." Suguru shakes his head. "You'd be in bed with us if it were." 

That comment pricks something deep within your skin. You swallow, turning away from his piercing purple eyes. They were much like Satoru's. Breathtaking, you could stare at them for hours. You used to. 

But now, you don't have that desire anymore. 

And maybe now that you aren't so attached, maybe you could try being a little more honest. 

"I was jealous." You finally admit. "I couldn't help it. I-I always felt like I was fighting within my relationship. You two were so much closer to each other than I was. Than I ever could be, honestly." 

Suguru frowns, troubled. 

"That's not true." He insists, soft, but something's burning underneath his tone. "Satoru and I have history, but that doesn't mean-" 

"I was runner-up." You cut him off. "For both of you. Looking back, I'm not really upset. It was always impossible for anything to come between the two of you. This-" You gesture between you and him "-was always inevitable." 

"It's my fault." You smile at him, hoping it comes across as sincere as you feel. "I couldn't stand being second place." 

He moves then, kneeling in front of you. Eyes the widest you've ever seen them. He catches your hands in his. You let him. A parting gift. 

"Angel." He starts. "We never once thought of you as that." 

You shrug. "It doesn't matter." You reply. "It's how I always felt. You can't really change the way I feel about things, Suguru." 

You think he's realizing that he's beginning to lose you. His grip gets tighter as if he can physically keep you with him at the very least. He shifts until he's right at your knees, looking up at you desperately. 

"Come back." He insists, abandoning his persuasions. "Just...come back. At least for a little while? We can try again, can't we? Just give us a second chance?" 

It's strange, they don't look too similar, but you can see the similarities. Wow, they're just perfect for each other, aren't they? Yin and Yang. Two halves; one whole. 

You were always a leftover. You just had to learn that the hard way, through days of heartbreak, crying, and sobbing your heart out. It took you awhile to understand that the affection they had for each other is different from the affection they had for you. 

You shake your head. His hands nearly crush yours. 

"I love you." 

It takes you a while to figure out what he said. When it does sink in, your world tilts. Your heart stops at his abrupt declaration and you must stare at him because why? At first, you think he's just desperate: lovebombing. And then you look into his eyes, his sincerity. No, he means it. It makes you feel worse. 

"Satoru does, too, but you know him-he'd rather die than admit something like that." Suguru gives a bitter laugh, one you find familiar even after all this time. "I've always wanted to tell you but thought it was too soon. I thought we had all the time in the world." His voice tapers so he doesn't have to say the obvious but clearly you three didn't. 

You want to reach over, tuck a stray lock behind his ear but you stop yourself because he isn't yours anymore. You gave it all away when you ran. Instead, you curl your hands around his in silent understanding. 

You don't know how you didn't realize it before, but Suguru is less put together than usual. His hair is typically well-groomed and shiny, but now you see split ends. His eyes are clear and bright, but today...they aren't. A dull purple. Hazy violet. 

He's miserable. 

You did this. This was all you. 

"Satoru misses you," he says, "always had. Barely smiles anymore. I don't think I can blame him." 

They loved you. They love you. This was all what you wanted. Just a bit of recognition. There's a tiny part of you that's still itching to jump back in Suguru's arms, kiss him until you're out of breath 'just kidding! it was a prank! let's go home!' and then you two would leave hand-in-hand back to Satoru. 

Going back to them would make them happy, but not you.

But Shoko was right. You deserved better. 

 "It'll get better." You assure. "You'll heal." 

Day by day, the cracks in your heart start to seal. Bit by bit. It may never heal over completely, but you know you'll be okay one day. And they'll be alright too. Who knows, maybe in a couple years, you'll all laugh at this. 

Suguru shakes his head and stands up. His eyes are just the bit glassy, but he's blinking them away before anything gives. It's just like him, honestly, so you're not too upset. 

"You don't get it." He's smiling, not quite in humor. "I don't think you'll ever do but..." He trails off, mid-thought. 

"But what?" You press. 

Then he sighs and closes his eyes. When he looks at you again, his signature pleasantly cold smile is on his face. 

"I did all I could, I think." He turns around, abrupt. "I'll see myself out." 

You're caught off-guard by his sudden departure, but by the time you're following him, Shoko's already leading him out the front door, locking it with exasperation. 

"Is that it?" She asks. "They won't be barging in anytime soon, right?" 

You stare out the window, watching as Suguru gets in his car. Something bubbled in your stomach. 

~

It was one of those nights. Shoko had come back early. Utahime was back from the school. You had planned a cute little evening for the girls and a relaxing night in. You had everything: wine, freshly-prepared dinner, a cheesy horror movie, and an announcement you're sure they were more than happy to hear.

You had just settled down the blanket when you hear Shoko come through the door. You take off her coat before she can even touch it, excitedly flitting around her. 

"What's gotten you in such a good mood?" Shoko asks, her dark circles even more profound than before. You don't have to feel guilty about those for long. 

"You'll see!" You chirp back. 

Utahime strolls out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower. Her hair is still wet. You'll ask if you can blow dry it later. 

"That's what you've been saying for nearly an hour now." Utahime groans. "Just tell us already. Or at least, me."

"Patience." You chastise. "But, it's a good surprise, I promise." 

She's not satisfied, but she sits down anyway. They eat dinner, complimenting your skills all the while. You preen at their praise. It's a stark contrast between Suguru and Satoru, how cold they'd often been whenever you did something nice for them: tilted smiles, less-than-receptive words of 'oh baby you didn't have to'. 

As you lived with both couples, you can see the similarities. Utahime's temper is close to Satoru's, but that's where the similarities stop. She's more serious and less likely to blow off your feelings with a playful huff. Shoko and Suguru share the same laid-back personality, but Shoko is always there to listen to you instead of cutting you off with condescending sympathy. 

Wow, maybe Satoru and Suguru were a little more shitty than you initially thought. 

Eventually, the night draws to a close. They're drunk, full, and smiling. Perfect. You clear your throat just when Shoko refills her fourth glass. 

"Again, I'd really like to thank you for letting me stay." You start. "It meant so much to me to have two amazing people to support me like this. So, thank you." 

Utahime smiles. "Don't thank us," she says, "again, you can stay for as long as you want-forever, honestly!" 

You nod. "Well, I don't think I have to do that anymore." 

Shoko freezes mid-sip. 

"What?" She asks. 

"I talked to my parents." You tell them, oblivious to their stone faces. "And I'm going to move back in with them, just until I get back on my feet. Isn't that great? Now, you two won't have to-" 

You stop when you finally notice how cold they look. Utahime looks close to tears. 

"What's wrong?" You ask. 

"You're leaving?" Utahime asks, her voice nearly cracks. "Why?" 

That...wasn't what you were expecting. Shouldn't they be glad the third wheel is finally out of their house? Why does Utahime look so heartbroken? Why is Shoko so quiet? What was going on?

"Isn't-isn't this what you wanted?" You fumble with your words. "Now, you don't have to share the house with me anymore. It'll be just the two of you again." 

They exchange glances, and it reminds you of those secret conversations Suguru and Satoru used to have. Except this time, you can read their faces. 

"What if...we don't want it to be just the two of us anymore?" Shoko starts, hesitant, reproachful like she's approaching a scared wild animal. 

Your eyebrows scrunch. "I don't understand." 

At that, Utahime drops her head in her hands. "Oh, c'mon! We've been doing this for weeks! You can't be that oblivious-" 

And then, she stops herself. Looks at you. You stare right back, and the three of you have the exact same realization at the exact same time. 

"Oh." You breathe. 

"Oh." Utahime whispers. 

"We're all idiots." Shoko says behind her glass. 

"Wait wait. Hold on." You backtrack. "You-you two want...with me?" 

"Yes!" Utahime exclaims. "Yes! God, now everything makes sense. I thought you were just trying to let us down gently, but this whole time you just weren't even paying attention!" 

"No." You argue, face hot. "You two were just really subtle." 

"We all sleep in the same room, these days." Shoko lists. "'Hime sat on your lap with nothing on but a bra and panties." 

"I thought we were just doing friend things!" 

"What kinds of friends sit on your lap, half-naked?" Utahime asks, mortified. 

"I-I-" You give up. 

All this time. You were mourning over something you lost months ago, even when there was something blooming right under your nose. God, you're an idiot. 

Hands. They clasp your own. You look up into Utahime's pretty brown eyes. 

"We want you to stay." She whispers. "We want you." You take a glance at Shoko. 

"Do you want us?" 

You take a deep breath. 

You nod. 

She's smiling, and then Utahime's kissing you. Soft, so soft, nothing like the possessive kisses Satoru gives you. It's innocent and adoring and you find yourself melting into her completely. 

Utahime disappears and before you can mourn her warmth, Shoko's lips join yours. You can smell the alcohol, the slightest sting of cigarettes. You don't mind it. Her kisses are nothing like Suguru's, all powerful and domineering. She takes what you give her, asking ever so nicely for more. 

You break away, panting. 

"You good?" She asks. 

You nod. 

"Good." Shoko hums. "Cuz we're gonna fuck you now." 

"What?" 

Shoko pushes you down on the couch. You land with an oomph before Utahime's descends on you with a flurry of kisses. 

"Waited so long to do this, baby." She's sighing into your lips, fiddling with your shirt so she can pull it off. "Weeks and weeks." 

She pulls down one of your bra cups, massaging at your tits. You hadn't had action in so long, so you eagerly encouraged her movements, kissing her back with just as much fervor. Shoko takes her place next to her girlfriend, pawing at your other tit. 

"Look." Shoko purrs. "One for each of us." Her soft mouth sucks on your nipple, swirling it around her mouth. Your head leans back with a pleasant sigh. 

"Feel good?" Utahime asks. "She's good with her tongue, isn't she?" 

"Yes," you nod, and Utahime gives out a delighted giggle, peppering your face with kisses. You gasp when you feel her hand shift through your shorts, palming at your dripping pussy. 

"Poor thing." Utahime's cooing, and there's a brief hint of mockery in her tone. You've never heard that before. It turns you on even more. "They never gave you attention back there did they?" She circles your clit. "They were too busy sucking each other's dicks to pay attention to such a pretty pussy." 

Shoko pops off your tits, shifting down. She kisses her way to your stomach. You blearily watch as she adjusts herself until she's right at your shorts. Utahime follows her lead, tugging off your shorts. Your panties go next. 

And then you're staring down at them with trepid anticipation. 

"I meant what I said." Shoko says softly. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who cares for you." 

"You deserve us." With that, She and Utahime latch onto your pussy. 

They're everywhere. You have to stop yourself from cumming right then and there, arching your back as one of them sucks on your clit while the other licks into your hole. She manages to stick her tongue inside of you, and it's enough to shoot sparks through your eyes. 

"So tight." Utahime's hissing into your cunt. "Sho, after this, you wanna try to fuck this pussy with your strap?" 

There's a soft laugh, and Shoko pulls away from your clit to answer, much to your disappointment. You whine, thrusting your hips in the air. She stills you with a hush. 

"I don't think we're ready just yet." She hums. "Yet." 

When you glance down, they both are making out with your clit. It's debaucherous. Their soft lips are connected, your tiny bud locked in the middle as their spit trickles down into your pussy. Utahime groans and when you look further down, you realize she's touching herself. 

You don't know which part of this makes you cum, but you cum. It's the hardest you've ever orgasmed. There's so much stimulation that your hips buck up, trying to chase the sparks of pleasure. They let you, licking you through your orgasm. 

When you come down, your thighs fall apart, splayed against the soft cushions. Utahime still isn't finished, licking at your clit. You shudder at the overstimulation, whining until Shoko is pulling her off of you by her hair. 

"Good, baby?" She asks, crawling back up to you. You kiss her as an answer. She melts in delight. 

You break the kiss, glancing over at Utahime. 

Taking the silent request, she kisses you again. You can taste yourself on her lips. You don't mind it. For some reason, it's sweeter on Utahime's tongue. 

When she breaks away, she stares at you, face soft. "You're staying, right?" She asks you. "You'll stay with us? Because after this, I don't think we could ever let you go." 

You give a shy nod, and Utahime beams. 

"Then, you're ours now," Shoko says, settling into your side. "And we're yours. Always." 

"Always." You breathe, content, happy. You could almost go to sleep. 

Shoko slaps your thigh. 

"Not yet." She warns before propping you up. "First, I want you to sit on my face." 

Hours later, you wake up delightfully sore in bed. The two girls are curled up next to you. When you move, you can still feel the bruises Utahime left. You never knew she liked to bite so much. 

You can't even begin to remember what happened, but you don't regret any of it. Hours and hours had passed as they fucked you and fucked each other, and you fucked them. 

Shoko shifts beside you. She was always a light sleeper. 

"Awake?" She asks. 

"Yeah." You softly say back. 

She hums, shifting a little more to face you. Utahime's behind you, arms protectively curled around your waist. At your voice, her eyes twitch. 

"Shut up." She grumbles, but her arms cinch around your waist. 

Shoko stretches as she rises up. You miss her body warmth but you don't mind the view she gives as she saunters over to the dresser, pulling on some clothes. 

"I'm gonna get food." 

Utahime mumbles out her order. You say nothing because you don't want to come in between them, and then Shoko looks at you. 

"What do you want?" She prompts. 

You blink, and when you answer, Shoko smiles, and then she's out the door. 

The interaction makes your heart warm. 

Still, it can't last. 

When you go to get up, Utahime protests, grabbing your wrist. 

"And where are you going?" She prods. 

You fumble. "Back to my room?" 

"What? Why?" Utahime demands with a frown. "What's the point, you're already with us, now." 

"Oh." You blink, but you give in and slink back into bed. "Is...this really okay?" 

"For God's sake, " she hisses, but you don't count it against her because Utahime has always been a little grumpy after waking up. "Yes. We're obsessed with you. How are you so blind?" 

"We want you, and we're not like them." Her voice drops in disdain. "We'll treat you better. You're ours now. You're mine." 

"Yours." You repeat, something warm fluttering in your belly. 

"You can't leave, we'd go crazy, okay?" She seriously tells you. "If someone else takes you away, I'd lose it. And Shoko is okay with murder." 

You laugh. 

"That's not a joke." She warns. 

"I know." And you kiss her again. 

It's like that for a couple weeks. You live in peaceful domestic bliss with two wonderful girlfriends. Now that you're in an actual loving relationship, you can't tell why you ever contemplated ever going back to Satoru and Suguru. Shoko actually talked to you about your feelings. Utahime cared about your input. You weren't treated like an afterthought, second place. 

They were with each other longer than they had been with you, but they never made you feel like you had to fight for your relationship. Speaking off Satoru and Suguru, they never once contacted you after their first two attempts. They'd clearly given up. 

Everything was just perfect. 

And then, it just wasn't. 

You were in bed with them. Fifteen minutes ago, Utahime shuffled off to go to the bathroom. She still wasn't back. Half asleep, Shoko grumbled. 

"She's probably in there fighting a cockroach." She complains, but she rises anyway. "Sleep, I'll be back." She kisses you on the cheek, and then she's gone. 

Their body warmth fades, but they stay because they're tired. These days, you can't really sleep without them, so you wait for the girls to return. Two minutes pass. Then, five. Then, ten. By then, the bed is cold. 

You open your eyes, sitting up. It's so quiet. Are they okay? 

You pull off the comforter, stepping onto the cold wooden floor. The apartment feels strangely...haunted somehow. The air felt heavier now, thick with an invisible tension, like the house itself was holding its breath. It must be because you feel alone, you're sure of it. 

The bedroom leads to a dark hallway. As you make your way down, you can hear something. Voices? Murmuring. The relief almost makes you laugh. Seriously, what were you even afraid about? 

The living room is horrific. 

They look dead. You can't tell if they're breathing or not. Shoko's eyes are closed. Utahime's limp body is sprawled across the floor. There's blood on the wooden panels. 

Suguru doesn't even blink. 

"You're awake." He says it so casually, like waking up to your ex-boyfriends mauling your girlfriends is normal. 

"What..." Your voice fails, you weakly try again. "What did you two do?" 

Satoru answers, smiling with glinty teeth. 

"Isn't it obvious? We're getting rid of the competition." 

You don't understand, your brain hasn't caught up yet, you still think you can talk to these psychos. 

"It's their fault." Satoru's still smiling, but there's nothing happy about his tone. He's carrying a knife. There's blood on it. "It's all their fault. They manipulated you into breaking up with us, baby. That's how these useless sluts got you into their arms." He spits on Utahime's hair. You cover your face with your hands. 

"But, it's not like you aren't at fault, Baby." He points the knife at you. "You left us for them. I'm not letting you off the hook for that." 

You don't know what he's saying. His movements scare you, his eyes, the knife. When you glance at Suguru, you don't know what you're expecting. 

But you know you aren't expecting...that. 

His purple eyes are icy cold. Utterly devoid of any emotion. You don't think you're staring at a person, anymore. 

"You lied," Suguru says, "You lied about us not giving you enough attention. You just wanted to leave us. For them." 

You step back. They step forward. 

Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise. Utahime warned you. Looking at her limp body, you wondered if she thought they'd ever go this far. 

"I didn't." You weakly insist. "I-I wasn't lying about anything! It-it wasn't like I wanted to leave-" 

"Stop lying," Gojo insists. "Stop fucking lying already." 

He smiles again. 

"It's okay, baby. I know you'll come back with us. Right after we're done dealing with these two whores." 

"You'll belong to us." Suguru promises and he steps on Shoko's hands. "Just like always."

They were both crazy. Nothing could get through to them. Now, you would sit there and watch them maul the only things in your life that made you feel complete. 

The worst part is that everything was your fault. 

Shoko's pinky twitches. You can see Utahime take shallow breathes.

And you speak. 

"I'm sorry." 

Your weak voice makes them stop in their tracks. Satoru glances at you, Suguru does too. You can't convince them. The only thing you can do is play into their delusions. 

"You're right." You say, the tears finally feeling useful. "I just wanted to leave. I-I was just bored. I wanted something new." Suguru's lips curl and you quickly move on. "But-but the more I stayed with them, the more I realized...how much I missed you two." 

Satoru halts. You caught him. 

"I did." You stress, carefully making your way to him on feet that were close to dropping at any minute. "Every day, I thought about you two." You reach out, touching his face with shaky fingers. "I really really wanted to come back, but I was afra-afraid you wouldn't...want me back."

Satoru reaches up to touch your hand. His fingers are cold. You resist the urge to shudder. 

"You missed us?" He wonders. 

The lie feels like sand. 

"More than anything." 

His kiss is violent. He crushes you with his grip, touching and biting and everything you hate. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting him suck your soul dry. 

"Don't kill them." You whisper when he finally pulls away. "Please don't kill them. Everything was my fault." 

Satoru's face is pensive. His gaze drifts off to Suguru's. Those silent conversations you hated so much. 

Then, Satoru gives a delighted sigh. 

"You're lucky. I love you so much." He kisses your nose, before pushing you in Suguru's arms. 

"I'll clean up here. Suguru, go back to the truck." He demands. 

You don't fight, letting Suguru drag you away. Shoko and Utahime live in apartments, but you're afraid if you scream, Satoru might change his mind and gut them anyway. Before Suguru leads you off, you catch Gojo scoffing before he kicks at Utahime's face. You gasp and pray that when Shoko wakes up, she'll be coherent enough to call for an ambulance. 

I'm sorry, you tell them. I'm so so sorry. 

Suguru pushes you into the backseat of their vehicle. You obediently take a seat. 

"You shouldn't have left." He tells you. "You should've stayed." 

His face is cold, but his tone betrays the tiniest tremor. If you weren't so scared, you'd laugh. The irony is that he's the one who feels wronged here. 

"I'm sorry," you say anyway. 

He hums, not quite satisfied with your answer. 

"You aren't." He responds, and you hate how well he knows your tells. 

And then, he grins. 

"But you will be."

Hands reach out, gripping your neck. You flail immediately as Suguru cuts of your oxygen. You can't breathe. You can't fucking breathe. No matter how tightly you squeeze onto his wrist, digging your nails into his hands, clawing at his face. He keeps you still, keeping you there as you grow weaker. Your vision gets blurry. Your attempts get sluggish. There's a kiss on your forehead, and you black out completely. 

~

You wake up in a room you've never seen before. And your neck is sore. 

The pain drifts in as soon as consciousness does. You feel like you have a hangover, your head throbs, your eyes struggle to remain open. You can't go back to sleep either, not when it hurts so much. 

The panic doesn't settle in until you catch the cuffs on either one of your legs, keeping you attached to the bedpost. Silver chains, with enough lead to let you move around a bit. The cuffs are padded so you don't rub yourself raw. You don't care about the thoughtfulness. 

They're in the room with you, watching with silent eyes. Nausea builds up in your stomach, and you wonder how long they'd stayed there, just watching you. 

You miss Shoko. You miss Utahime. You missed people who actually loved you. 

Not these two. Monsters that lied and pretended, but deep down, they were just too selfish to share. 

"You were out for a while." Suguru comments. 

"I told you to use the syringe," Satoru remarks, but he doesn't sound too upset. At his voice, Suguru laughs. 

You shift in your spot. Suguru takes that as an invitation. He sits at the edge of the bed, watching you with satisfied eyes. You must look pathetic: shivering, in tears. He reaches up, catching your tears with his finger.

"So cute." And then he frowns. "You know why we're doing this, yes? You were bad. You need to be punished."

"I'm sorry." It's all you can say. You feel like a broken record, doomed to repetition over and over again.

"You aren't. You should stop lying." Suguru says sweetly. "But I'm sure, a couple hours in your new home will help you think about how much you hurt us."

You wanted to scream, but you can't cuz your throat still hurts from Suguru's hands, and you know he's not above putting his hands on you this time. Maybe he never was, you just never saw this side of him until you made him snap.

"You're leaving?" You stumble, moving as they back away but the chains only take you so far. There are no windows, and when Suguru shuts the light off, the only thing that's keeping you from the dark entirely is the light emitting out the hallway.

"Wait." You beg. "Please. Wait, don't-don't leave me here. I'm sorry. This is scary. I'm scared."

Satoru hesitates at your broken voice. Like a shark smelling blood, you pounce.

"Satoru, please."

"If you keep coddling, then the lesson will never be learned." Suguru warns.

Satoru stares at you. He's not wearing his sunglasses. You can see him for what he is now.

"I love you." He says it so sincerely, you almost believe it. "This is for your own good."

The door shuts, and everything goes dark.

[stromblessed]

Mizu, femininity, and fallen sparrows

In my last post about Mizu and Akemi, I feel like I came across as overly critical of Mizu given that Mizu is a woman who - in her own words - has to live as a man in order to go down the path of revenge.

If she is ever discovered to be female by the wrong person, she will not only be unable to complete her quest, but there's a good chance that she'll be arrested or killed.

So it makes complete sense for Mizu to distance herself as much as possible from any behavior that she feels like would make someone question her sex.

I felt so indignant toward Mizu on my first couple watchthroughs for this moment. Why couldn't Mizu bribe the woman and her child's way into the city too? If Mizu is presenting as a man, couldn't she claim to be the woman's escort?

However, this moment makes things pretty clear. Mizu knows all too well the plight of women in her society. She knows it so well that she cannot risk ever finding herself back in their position again. She helps in what little way she can - without drawing attention to herself.

Mizu is not a hero and she is not one to make of herself a martyr - she will not set herself on fire to keep others warm. There's room to argue that Mizu shouldn't prioritize her quest over people's lives, but given the collateral damage Mizu can live with in almost every episode of season 1, Mizu is simply not operating under that kind of morality at this point. ("You don't know what I've done to reach you," Mizu tells Fowler.)

And while I still feel like Mizu has an obvious and established blind spot when it comes to Akemi because of their differences in station, such that Mizu's judgment of Akemi and actions in episode 5 are the result of prejudice rather than the result of Mizu's caution, I also want to establish that Mizu is just as caged as Akemi is, despite her technically having more freedom while living as a man.

Mizu can hide her mixed race identity some of the time, and she can hide her sex almost all of the time, but being able to operate outside of her society's strict rules for women does not mean she cannot see their plight.

It does not mean she doesn't hurt for them.

Back to Mizu and collateral damage, remember that sparrow?

While Mizu is breaking into Boss Hamata's manse, she gets startled by a bird and kills it on reflex. She then cradles it in her hands - much more tenderly than we've seen Mizu treat almost anything up to this point in the season:

She then puts it in its nest, with its unhatched eggs. Almost like she's trying to make the death look natural. Or like an accident.

You see where I'm going with this.

When Mizu kills Kinuyo, Mizu lingers in the moment, holding the body tenderly:

And btw a lot of stuff about this show hit me hard, but this remains the biggest gut punch of them all for me, Mizu holding that poor girl's body close, GOD

When Mizu arranges the "scene of the crime," Kinuyo's body is delicate, birdlike. And Mizu is so shaken afterward that she gets sloppy. She's horrified at this kill to the point that she can't bring herself to take another innocent life - the boy who rats her out.

MIZU'S ONE MOMENT OF SOFTNESS AND MERCY, COMING ON THE HEELS OF HER NEEDING TO KILL A GIRL TO SPARE HER THE WORST FATE THAT THIS RIGID SOCIETY HAS TO OFFER WOMEN, AND TO SPARE A BROTHEL FULL OF INNOCENT WOMEN WHO ARE THE CASTOFFS OF SOCIETY, NEARLY RESULTS IN ALL OF THEIR DEATHS

No wonder Mizu is as stoic and cold as she is.

And no wonder Mizu has no patience for Akemi whatsoever right before the terrible reveal and the fight breaks out:

Speaking of Akemi - guess who else is compared to a bird!

The plumage is more colorful, a bit flashier. But a bird is a bird.

And, uh

Yeah.

I like to think that Mizu killing the sparrow is not only foreshadowing for what she must do to Kinuyo, but is also a representation of the choice she makes on Akemi's behalf. She decides to cage the bird because she believes the bird is "better off." Better off caged than... dead.

But because Mizu doesn't know Akemi or her situation, she of course doesn't realize that the bird is fated to die if it is caged and sent back home.

Mizu is clearly not happy, or pleased, or satisfied by allowing Akemi to be dragged back to her father:

But softness and mercy haven't gotten Mizu anywhere good, recently.

There is so much tragedy layered into Mizu's character, and it includes the things she has to witness and the choices she makes - or believes she has to make - involving women, when she herself can skirt around a lot of what her society throws at women. Although, I do believe that it comes at the cost of a part of Mizu's soul.

After all, I'm gonna be haunted for the rest of this show by Mizu's very first prayer in episode 1:

"LET" her die. Because as Ringo points out, she doesn't "know how" to die.

Kind of like another bird in this show:

[mcrdvcks]

Until I Found You

Summary: Living in a small town had it's pluses and minuses. But when an older man and his daughter move in, things start to change, perhaps for the better.

Word Count: 24.3k+

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

Notes: this is looong, and believe me, i was surprised when i realized that it ended up being 24,000 words.

this thing is a slow-burn, i was literally screaming at my screen saying 'just kiss already!' then realizing that, in fact, i'm the one who has to make them kiss or confess or do something.

reader has a last name, but other than that, she isn't described. this technically could be considered an AU of logan (2017) where logan survives, so this was written with old man logan in mind.

i would like to turn this into another oneshot series, so don't be afraid to send in any requests! (relating to this or anything else you want to see!)

warnings: none!

The small town you lived in meant a few things, everyone knew everyone, and everyone got in everyone’s business.

A few months ago, an older man and his young daughter moved into town. You weren’t sure exactly how old he was, of course you knew who he was, but even you had to admit, he was attractive. But that’s what everyone thought, you heard the mothers who would pick up their children from school, looking at Logan as he picked up Laura.

It was nice to see a man who picked up his kid, though you’ve never seen Laura’s mother, so perhaps that explains why.

Laura was a quiet and sweet girl, at least that’s what you thought. Apparently, she also had the spirit of a firecracker and got angry easily. And while she’s visited the principal’s office at least 9 times since she’s been here, you still can’t help but see her as a cute little girl who’s been through something traumatic, whatever it was.

You were standing outside with your class in the afternoon, waiting until all the students were picked up. Laura was in another teacher’s class at the end of the day, your coworker Emma Zhou. You and Emma stood next to each other, your classes mingling as they waited for their parents to pick them up.

Emma leaned close to you, “this is my favorite part of the day, you know.”

“Yeah, I think it’s everyone’s favorite part of the day. We get to go home after this.” You replied.

“It used to be that, but now…” Emma trailed off as you glanced over at her, “there aren’t a lot of people in this town who are good looking. But he’s a great new addition.”

You hummed noncommittally, so what if Logan was good-looking? It wasn't like you spent your time ogling him. He was just another parent in the sea of them, a bit rougher around the edges maybe, but nothing that special. Emma shot you a knowing look.

"Come on, you’ve seen him, right? That scruffy beard, those eyes," Emma said, nudging you with her elbow. "He’s like one of those rugged cowboys from the old Westerns."

"You sound like you're about to swoon," you teased, trying to keep the conversation light. You didn't want to admit you might have noticed the way his eyes softened when he looked at Laura or the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Well, can you blame me?" Emma shot back with a grin. "Small town like ours, and a guy like that shows up? It's bound to turn some heads."

You knew that much. All the women, even those who were married, always ogled him, but he either didn’t mind or didn’t care. His salt and pepper hair, the thick beard—he was practically a wet dream for women everywhere.

Emma nudged you again, eyes gleaming with mischief. "What, you’re not even the least bit curious about him?"

"I mean, sure, he's... attractive, but I'm not about to join the fan club," you said, shrugging it off, though you could feel heat creeping up your neck. You kept your focus on the kids in front of you, especially Laura, who sat quietly on the steps, doodling in her notebook like she always did while waiting for her dad.

Emma smirked, clearly not buying your indifference. "Yeah, right. I see the way you look over there sometimes."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "You're seeing things."

Just then, you noticed Logan’s truck pull into the school parking lot. He stepped out, running a hand through his hair as he made his way over to the crowd of parents. Laura immediately perked up, her quiet demeanor shifting just a little, and she started gathering her things without a word.

"Speak of the devil," Emma murmured, but you ignored her, watching as Logan approached, his usual scowl in place, though it softened when his eyes landed on his daughter.

He gave a brief nod in your direction as he came closer. "Afternoon."

"Hey," you replied, casually. You weren’t about to give Emma the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

Laura stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as she walked over to him. She paused in front of you, though, glancing up with those big, serious eyes of hers.

"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice quiet but steady with a hint of her accent.

You smiled. "See you tomorrow, Laura."

She gave a small nod before taking Logan’s hand. He didn’t say much else, just a simple ‘thanks’ before turning to leave with Laura in tow. You watched them walk away for a moment longer than necessary, noticing the slight limp in his step that he tried to hide.

"Y/N," Emma sing-songed, breaking you out of your thoughts. "Admit it, you’ve got a little thing for him, don't you?"

You rolled your eyes. "You really need a new hobby."

Emma laughed, but before she could press any further, her attention shifted to another parent picking up their kid, and you were grateful for the distraction. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder about Logan and Laura, what their story was. Everyone in town seemed to have their theories—some more ridiculous than others—but you’d always figured it wasn’t your place to pry.

As the crowd of students and parents thinned out, you found yourself thinking about Logan again. His gruff exterior didn’t bother you—it reminded you of those old Clint Eastwood characters, tough but with something vulnerable underneath. Maybe it was the way he looked at Laura, so protective but with a softness that made you wonder what kind of man he really was when he let his guard down.

Emma’s voice pulled you back to the present. "So, what’s your plan for the evening?"

You shrugged. "Probably just grading papers. Maybe catching up on some Netflix. You?"

"Trying to figure out how to run into Logan at the grocery store," she joked, though you wouldn’t have been surprised if she wasn’t kidding.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Good luck with that."

As you both said your goodbyes and headed to your cars, you couldn’t help but glance over at Logan’s truck one more time. He was already driving off, Laura in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the window.

You let out a small sigh and got in your car, starting the engine. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but there was something there. Maybe Emma wasn’t entirely wrong.

Not that you’d ever admit that to her.

---

Much to your dismay, you had to go to the store once you were already clad in your loungewear. You wanted to make pasta, only to remember you forgot to get milk after work.

So now, here you were at the small local grocery store grabbing milk and a pint of ice cream for your troubles. The store was quiet at this hour, a few other people milling about but otherwise uneventful. You grabbed a basket and made a beeline for the dairy section, trying to get in and out as quickly as possible. Loungewear was great for a lazy evening at home, but not exactly your first choice for public appearances.

Once you made it to the frozen section, you looked at the pints of ice cream, specifically looking for one of your favorites, Ben and Jerry’s s’mores. “Fuck.” You muttered, seeing a pint of cookie dough in the spot of the s’mores.

You angrily grabbed the cookie dough ice cream to look behind it, only to find a chunky monkey pint. With a huff, you looked at the pint of ice cream, mentally cursing your luck. Just as you were about to put it back onto the shelf, a deep voice spoke from beside you.

"Didn't figure you for a chunky monkey type."

Startled, you looked up and found Logan standing there, one eyebrow raised, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was holding a six-pack of beer and a carton of eggs in one hand, the other casually resting in the pocket of his jeans.

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden appearance. "What? Oh, no, I was just... I was looking for s'mores," you explained awkwardly, holding up the ice cream like it was evidence.

He nodded, his smirk deepening a little as he glanced at the shelves. "Guess they’re out, huh?"

"Yeah, my luck tonight," you muttered, a little embarrassed to be caught standing here obsessing over ice cream in your loungewear. Not exactly how you wanted to run into the guy you were definitely not crushing on. How could you? He was the Wolverine, around 200 years old, and looked to be the age of your father. Well, if your father was still alive. Or if you ever got to know him.

Logan glanced at the shelf again and shrugged. "S'mores is overrated anyway."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, momentarily forgetting your embarrassment. "Oh really? What’s your go-to then, Mr. Anti-S'mores?"

He smirked, that same low, gravelly voice coming through as he responded. "Not much of an ice cream guy, but if I had to choose… probably plain vanilla. Simple. Not too sweet."

You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped you. "Of course you'd go for the most basic flavor."

His eyebrow twitched slightly at that, and you could see the playful glint in his eyes. "Sometimes simple’s the best option."

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a pint of vanilla. "Well, I guess I'll take your advice tonight, then. Not like I have much of a choice."

He gave you a brief nod, and for a moment, it seemed like the conversation would end there, but then Logan shifted slightly, his weight on one leg, clearly trying to mask the limp you'd noticed earlier. You weren’t sure if it was from the adamantium or something else, but it definitely wasn’t healing like it should. You found yourself biting your lip, wanting to ask but knowing better.

Instead, you went for something safer. "Laura’s doing well in class, by the way. She’s sharp. A little stubborn, but sharp."

He glanced down at you, a flicker of pride crossing his face. "Yeah, she’s a tough one." His expression softened as he added, "She doesn’t talk about it, but I know she likes you. Keeps her distance with most people."

Your heart fluttered a little at that. Laura was a bit of a mystery, rarely engaging much with the other teachers or students, so hearing that she’d let her guard down even a little with you meant more than you’d expected. "Well, she’s a good kid. I try not to push her too much."

Logan nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than you expected, like he was sizing you up in that quiet, brooding way of his. It made you feel both exposed and… oddly seen.

"Anyway," you said, breaking the silence, "I’ll let you get back to your shopping. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do than stand around talking about ice cream."

He gave a small grunt that might’ve been a laugh, but it was so subtle you couldn’t be sure. "Yeah. See you around, Ms. Aberra."

"Y/N," you corrected, feeling a little awkward. "You can just call me Y/N."

He hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Y/N, then."

You gave him a small smile, feeling a strange warmth at the way your name sounded in his deep voice. He gave a nod before turning to leave, but as he walked away, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at his retreating form. There was something about him—something rough, broken, but undeniably captivating.

---

The next morning, you pulled into the school parking lot, iced coffee in hand, still replaying your chance encounter with Logan at the grocery store. Why did it have to be the one night you went out in loungewear? If Emma ever found out, you'd never hear the end of it. You mentally braced yourself as you walked toward the building, determined to shake off any lingering thoughts about last night.

As you entered the teacher's lounge to drop off your things, Emma was already there, nursing her own cup of coffee. She spotted you immediately and raised an eyebrow.

"You look a little too chipper for a Wednesday," she teased.

You shrugged, trying to act casual. "Just happy to be halfway through the week."

"Uh-huh," she said, not quite convinced. "You didn't run into anyone interesting last night, did you?"

Your heart skipped a beat. How does she know?

"Like who?" you asked, trying to play dumb, but Emma's smirk told you she wasn't buying it.

"Oh, I don’t know... maybe a certain rugged cowboy-looking guy with a truck?" she said, her grin widening.

You groaned. "Seriously, do you have a sixth sense or something?"

"I knew it!" Emma practically squealed. "You did run into Logan, didn’t you? Come on, spill!"

You rolled your eyes and took a seat at the table. "It was nothing. We just ran into each other in the frozen section, talked for, like, two seconds. That’s it."

"Uh-huh, and?" Emma leaned forward, eager for details.

"And nothing. We talked about ice cream. He said s'mores was overrated."

Emma let out a dramatic gasp. "Overrated? Now, I know he's not perfect."

You chuckled despite yourself. "Yeah, well, that's the most thrilling part of my story, so feel free to be disappointed."

Emma shook her head, still grinning. "Oh, I'm not disappointed at all. This is just the beginning."

"There's nothing to begin, Emma," you said, exasperated. "He's just another parent."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that," she said with a wink before heading out to her classroom. You couldn't help but roll your eyes again as you followed her out into the hallway.

---

The morning passed uneventfully, but Laura had been quieter than usual in your class. Not that she was typically the most talkative kid, but today she seemed more distant, even from you. She’d finished her assignments early, as usual, but spent most of the class staring out the window instead of doodling in her notebook.

During lunch, you decided to check in with her. You found her sitting by herself outside, picking at the sandwich Logan had packed for her. You approached cautiously, not wanting to startle her.

"Hey, Laura," you greeted, taking a seat on the bench next to her. "Everything okay?"

She glanced at you, her expression as unreadable as always, before giving a slight shrug. "Yeah."

You studied her for a moment, noticing the way she kept her gaze low, avoiding eye contact more than usual. Something was definitely off. You knew better than to push too hard, but you also didn't want her to bottle everything up.

"Well, you know if you ever want to talk, I’m here," you said gently.

She gave another shrug, but this time, her eyes flickered up to meet yours briefly. "I know."

You nodded, letting the silence settle between you. Laura wasn’t one for big emotional outbursts—at least not around you—but you had a feeling she'd talk when she was ready.

"By the way," you said, changing the subject to lighten the mood, "your dad said he don’t like s'mores ice cream. Is that true, or is he just weird?"

Laura looked up at you, her lips twitching slightly like she was trying not to smile. "I like s'mores."

"Thought so," you replied with a smirk. "Well, I’m officially questioning all of your dad's taste now."

Laura didn’t laugh, but her expression softened a little, and she took another bite of her sandwich. It wasn’t much, but it felt like progress. You let her finish eating in peace, feeling a little more at ease knowing that you’d at least gotten her to relax.

---

The afternoon flew by, and soon enough, the end-of-day pickup routine was in full swing. You and Emma stood outside again, watching the usual parade of parents and cars. Logan’s truck was easy to spot as it pulled up to the curb. You tried to act like you weren’t paying attention, but of course, Emma caught you glancing over.

"Still nothing, huh?" she teased under her breath.

"Shut up," you muttered, doing your best to seem disinterested.

Logan stepped out of the truck, his usual stoic expression in place as he made his way toward the school. Laura was already waiting, standing near the steps with her backpack slung over her shoulder. She saw him and walked over without hesitation, but before they left, she turned back to you.

"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice a little softer than usual.

"See you tomorrow, Laura," you replied with a smile.

Logan gave you a nod as they walked past, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight limp in his step again. It was subtle, but there. Your curiosity piqued, but you pushed it down, reminding yourself it wasn’t your place to pry.

Emma, however, was still watching you closely. "You’re so not fooling anyone."

You shot her a look. "Seriously, get a hobby."

Emma just grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Oh, this is my hobby, Y/N. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it."

As you both stood there, watching the last of the kids get picked up, you couldn’t help but glance over at Logan’s truck one more time as it drove away. Emma’s teasing was getting on your nerves, but there was a part of you that couldn’t completely dismiss what she was saying.

Maybe you were a little curious. Just a little. But you weren’t about to admit that to anyone—not even yourself.

---

Over the weekend you decided it was time to get an oil change. You weren’t going to go to ‘Mavin’s Oil Change’, not after that happened. Which is why for the past few years you’ve been doing it yourself.

It wasn’t difficult, and it was a lot cheaper, both wins in your book.

You walked around the hardware store, glancing at the shelves as you carried a new oil drain pan. You paused in front of the rows of motor oil, scanning the labels. Conventional had always worked fine for you, but maybe this time you'd splurge on the synthetic blend. It wasn't a huge decision, but it felt like a small act of treating yourself, in a way.

You were debating the pros and cons of the oil options when you heard the sound of someone walking up behind you.

"Didn’t peg you for the kind to do your own oil changes."

You turned your head and were met with Logan’s familiar gravelly voice. There he was again—of all places, he’d found you here in the auto section of the hardware store.

"Yeah, well, it's cheaper this way," you replied with a casual shrug, hoping to mask the slight surprise in your voice. You gestured to the oil in front of you. "What about you? Conventional or synthetic blend?"

Logan glanced at the shelf, then back at you. "Conventional. Gets the job done."

"Figures." You grinned a little, grabbing the conventional oil off the shelf. "Guess I’ll stick with what I know too, then."

He raised an eyebrow at you, but there was a hint of amusement behind his usual stoic demeanor. "Figured you’d be one to overthink it. Synthetic’s not all it’s cracked up to be."

You chuckled. "I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Oil Expert."

He grunted in response, grabbing something off the shelf for himself. For a moment, you both stood there, surrounded by tools and motor oil, neither of you saying much. It was kind of nice—quiet, comfortable in a way you wouldn’t have expected.

You shifted, holding the oil pan in your hands. "So, is Laura doing anything fun this weekend?"

Logan glanced at you, his face softening slightly at the mention of his daughter. "Not much. She likes to keep busy, but… this town ain’t exactly got a lot going on."

"True," you nodded, biting your lip as you tried to think of something. "She could come by and help me out with my garden, if she’s interested. I know she likes plants."

Logan looked at you, a little longer than usual, and you wondered if you’d crossed some kind of line offering something so personal. But then he nodded. "She’d probably like that."

"Cool," you said, feeling oddly relieved that you hadn’t messed up. "Let me know if she wants to. I could use an extra set of hands."

He gave a small nod, but his eyes lingered on you again for a second before he turned his attention back to the shelf. There was that same weight to his gaze, like he was always sizing things up, figuring people out.

"You know," you said, breaking the silence, "I’m starting to think you’re stalking me. First the grocery store, now here. Should I be worried?"

Logan snorted, shaking his head. "Pretty sure it’s the other way around."

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me? If anything, I’m just a simple schoolteacher who likes ice cream and doing her own oil changes. Hardly the stalking type."

"Sure," he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly into what could almost be considered a smile.

You felt your own lips tugging into a grin, and for a moment, it felt easier. Logan wasn’t always the easiest person to talk to, but something about these small, random moments with him made you feel more at ease than you expected.

"Well, good luck with your oil change," he said, turning to head down another aisle. "Maybe see you around."

"Yeah, see you around," you replied, watching him walk away before you continued shopping, a strange warmth lingering in your chest.

As you walked toward the checkout, you couldn’t help but think back on how natural it felt, just talking to him. There wasn’t any awkwardness or forced conversation—just two people running into each other at the hardware store. Nothing to overthink. Except, maybe, the fact that you were starting to like these encounters more than you’d like to admit.

---

Logan blew out a breath of his cigar smoke. Laura said she didn’t like it when he smoked inside so he started doing it outside on the porch.

A small added bonus was seeing you, a few houses down, across the street, currently underneath your car getting the oil to drain.

The door opened and shut behind him as Laura stepped out, “ella te gusta,” she said softly.

He let out a huff, “kid, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but I don’t know Spanish.”

Laura let out her own huff, sitting down next to Logan’s chair with her sketchbook, flipping it open. She didn’t say anything for a while, just started sketching in that intense, quiet way she had. Logan leaned back, puffing on his cigar, watching the smoke curl up into the air.

He caught himself glancing back across the street, where you were still working under your car. Laura's earlier comment lingered in his mind, even if he pretended not to know what it meant.

After a few minutes of silence, Laura looked up from her drawing. “You should go help her.”

Logan snorted, taking another puff of his cigar. “She’s fine. Knows what she’s doin’.”

Laura raised an eyebrow at him, her expression skeptical. “You’re always saying people shouldn’t be doin’ stuff like that alone. What if something happens?”

“Yeah, but she’s not helpless,” he grunted, though there was something in his tone that sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her.

Laura shrugged and went back to her sketch. “Still think you should.”

Logan glanced at her, then back at you. You were sliding out from under the car, wiping your hands on your jeans, looking like you’d handled it just fine. He grunted again, though this time it was more to himself.

“What are you drawing?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

Laura held up her sketchbook, showing him a detailed drawing of a plant—a vine with thorns twisting around a branch. It reminded him of your garden, something about the way the plants seemed to grow wild but still had a certain beauty to them.

“That for Ms. Aberra?” Logan asked, the name slipping out before he could stop it. He tried to keep his tone casual, but Laura shot him a knowing look.

“Maybe.” She shrugged, but there was a smirk playing on her lips. “She likes plants. Thought she’d like this.”

Logan just nodded, staying quiet. He wasn’t about to get into a conversation with an eleven-year-old about why he’d noticed things about your garden or how you seemed to have a way with plants. That wasn’t his style.

“Why don’t you go show her?” Logan suggested, nodding toward you as you gathered up your tools.

Laura seemed to think about it for a second, then shook her head. “Maybe later. She’s busy.”

Logan raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t push it. He knew better than to try and make Laura do something if she wasn’t in the mood. The kid had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Though he supposes it was his fault.

A teenage girl who was walking a dog, a tan pit bull, stopped in front of your driveway, the dog happily wagging its tail as it patiently waited for you to say hello.

You were still wiping the oil off your hands when you noticed the pair. "Hey, there.” You smiled as you crouched down to greet Juno, who leaned eagerly into your hand, her tail wagging excitedly. "How are you, Juno?" you cooed, giving the pit bull a good scratch behind the ears.

The teenage girl holding the leash smiled politely. “She’s been dying to see you again,” she said, giving the leash a little slack so the dog could get closer.

"Well, I’m always happy to see her." You grinned as the dog nudged your leg, clearly wanting more attention. "Been a busy evening?”

The girl shrugged. “Yeah, but Juno here makes it better. You know how it is.”

You nodded. "Definitely. Plants are my version of Juno. Or baking, it’s hard to decide.”

The girl chuckled lightly before glancing at the car behind you. “Doing your own oil change?”

"Yep," you said, standing up and wiping your hands again on the rag. "Easier and cheaper than going to a shop."

She raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. I wouldn’t even know where to start."

“You’d be surprised how easy it is. YouTube tutorials, mostly,” you said, shrugging as you wiped your hands on the rag.

The girl smiled. "I might have to try that next time. If I don’t mess up my car in the process.”

You laughed. "That’s what the tutorials are for. But yeah, it’s not too bad. You’d get the hang of it."

As you chatted with the girl for a bit longer, Juno continued to happily soak up the attention. You scratched behind her ears one more time before standing up straight. “Well, good luck with the rest of your walk. Always nice seeing you two.”

“Same here,” the girl replied, tugging gently on Juno’s leash. “C’mon, girl. Let’s get home.”

You waved as they continued down the street, Juno looking back at you with her tail wagging. With a satisfied sigh, you turned back to finish cleaning up, putting away the oil pan and bottles of motor oil.

Across the street, Logan puffed his cigar, watching as you gathered your tools and wiped your hands one more time. Laura had gone back to her sketching, though every now and then she’d glance up at him with that same look.

“She’s done now,” Laura said after a moment, still sketching.

“I can see that,” Logan grumbled, tapping ash off the end of his cigar.

“Still think you should go help,” she added, not even bothering to look up this time.

Logan huffed, staring at you as you double-checked your work and began packing up. He didn’t need to help—you were obviously handling everything just fine. But still, there was something about the way you worked so methodically, so determined. You’d done it all yourself, like you didn’t need anyone’s help. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling, though, that maybe he wanted to offer it anyway.

“Kid, you sure know how to push buttons,” he muttered under his breath.

Laura just smirked, flipping another page in her sketchbook.

Logan grumbled to himself for a moment longer before standing up from his chair, tapping out the last of his cigar in the ashtray. “Stay here.”

He walked across the street toward your driveway, hands in his jacket pockets, his eyes set on you as you knelt by the toolbox, sorting through the remaining tools.

“You done already?” he called out, making his presence known.

You glanced up, not expecting to see him again so soon. “Yeah, just finished up,” you replied, standing up and wiping your hands on the rag again. “What about you? Something break down?”

“Nah, just figured I’d see if you needed any help,” he said, his tone casual, though you could tell it wasn’t exactly his style to offer assistance without a reason.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling a little. “You offering to help after the job’s already done?”

"Guess I am," Logan replied with a hint of a smirk, his eyes not quite meeting yours.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, it's the thought that counts, I suppose. Next time, I’ll be sure to save the hardest part for you."

"Yeah, you do that," he said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. He shifted his weight slightly, glancing over at the now-finished oil change. "You do this kind of thing often? Or just the oil changes?"

"Mostly just the oil changes," you admitted, as you leaned in closer like you were telling a secret. “I went on a few dates with Mavin’s son the first few months I was here and didn’t go over well. Now he overcharges me.” You held up your hands, “but if it’s something complicated, I promise I drive 30 minutes to the city to get it checked out.”

Logan's eyes flickered with interest, the corners of his mouth twitching into something resembling a smile. "That right? Well, can't say I'm surprised. Mavin's a bit of a jerk."

You chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, he wasn't thrilled about me ghosting his son, that's for sure. But hey, I learned how to change my own oil, so I guess something good came out of it."

Logan grunted in agreement, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't say much after that, his eyes lingering on you as if he were trying to piece together something that didn't quite fit. You had a feeling he wasn't used to people like you—people who seemed to find their way into his life, one way or another.

"Well," you said, breaking the silence, "thanks for the offer, even if the job’s already done." You smiled, a little uncertain about what to do next. "Guess I'll see you around."

He nodded, but didn't make a move to leave. "Laura likes you, you know."

That caught you off guard. "Oh," you replied, a bit flustered. "Well, I like her too. She's a good kid. Smart, but... you already know that."

"Yeah," Logan muttered, his voice softer than usual. "She doesn’t open up to many people. But you... you’re different."

You weren't sure how to respond to that, so you just nodded, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through your chest. "I’m glad she feels comfortable around me. She’s been through a lot."

Logan's eyes darkened slightly, a shadow passing over his features. "More than most," he agreed, his voice rough with something that sounded a lot like guilt.

You wanted to reach out, to say something that might make him feel better, but words failed you. So instead, you just stood there, the silence stretching between you, not awkward but charged with something unspoken.

"Anyway," Logan said, clearing his throat as if to shake off the heavy moment. "If you ever need help with the car, you know where to find me. Or Laura."

You smiled, feeling that warmth again. "I’ll keep that in mind. And if you two ever need help with, I don’t know, math homework or... anything else, you know where to find me."

He nodded, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Noted."

You watched as he turned to leave, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. As he walked back toward his house, you couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something more than just friendly encounters at the store.

---

During lunch, you sat in your classroom, enjoying 30 minutes of peace and quiet before the kids came back into the room. The soft hum of the heater filled the space, making the room feel warmer than usual as you flipped through the stack of quizzes you needed to grade. The formulas and diagrams were a blur as your mind drifted back to the weekend, specifically to Logan.

The way he’d offered to help with your oil change, the quiet moments that had followed—it was so unlike him. Or maybe, you realized, you just didn’t know him well enough yet. Either way, something about it had left you feeling... something.

A soft knock on the doorframe pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up to see Emma standing in the doorway, that cheeky grin on her face.

“So,” she started, stepping inside your classroom. “I hear you’re making friends with a certain someone across the street.”

You rolled your eyes, setting down the quiz you’d been half-grading. “I’m not ‘making friends.’ We just happen to run into each other.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Mhm. Sure. Totally normal for him to come help with your oil change, right?”

"My God, how do you know?" you asked, eyes widening in disbelief as you sat back in your chair.

Emma smirked, leaning against the doorway like she had all the time in the world. "Small town. You know how people talk." She paused, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Besides, you’re not exactly subtle. Logan? The gruff guy across the street? It’s hard to miss that you two have been... running into each other more than usual."

You sighed, rubbing your temple. "It’s not like that. He just offered to help with my car, and Laura—"

Emma’s grin widened. "Ah, Laura. That’s the key, isn’t it? I’ve seen how she looks at you. That kid doesn’t warm up to just anyone. She’s a little... prickly, but with you? She’s different."

"She’s a good kid," you said, trying to deflect. "She’s been through a lot, you know? I just think she needs someone to talk to. Someone who’s not... intimidating."

"Sure, sure," Emma teased, walking further into the room and sitting on the edge of one of the desks. "But you can’t tell me there isn’t something more going on between you and Logan. I mean, come on. He doesn’t exactly strike me as the ‘friendly neighbor’ type. More like ‘leave me alone or I’ll stab you with my claws’ type."

You chuckled despite yourself. "Okay, yeah, he’s not exactly Mr. Rogers. But it’s not like we’re... you know, it’s just—"

"Flirting?" Emma offered with a raised eyebrow.

"Friendly," you corrected quickly, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "It’s just friendly. He’s Laura’s dad, and we’ve talked a few times, but that’s it."

Emma gave you a knowing look. "Uh-huh. Sure. And I’m the Queen of England."

You groaned, pushing your quizzes aside. "Why are you so obsessed with this?"

"Because," Emma said with a shrug, "it’s about time you had a little fun in this town. You spend all your time either at school or working on that garden of yours. You deserve to have a life outside of grading papers and pulling weeds."

"I have a life," you protested.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Really? And when was the last time you went on a date?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but quickly closed it, realizing you didn’t have a good answer. "Okay, fine," you admitted, "it’s been a while. But that doesn’t mean—"

"Exactly my point," Emma interrupted, flashing a triumphant grin. "Look, I’m not saying you have to marry the guy. But Logan? He’s clearly interested. And I think you are too."

"Okay… even if I was interested, I’m pretty sure a guy like that doesn’t have dating or relationships on his mind. Especially with someone like me." You leaned back in your chair, feeling a mix of frustration and doubt.

Emma gave you a skeptical look, shaking her head. "Someone like you? Come on, Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re smart, funny, and clearly, Logan thinks you’re worth his time. He’s not just helping anyone with an oil change, believe me."

You sighed, crossing your arms. "It’s not that simple. You know what he’s been through. And Laura... she’s been through so much already. I’m not about to mess with their lives."

Emma smirked, tapping her fingers on the desk. "Mess with their lives? Or make their lives better? Laura clearly likes you, Y/N. She’s practically glued to your side when you’re around. And Logan? He’s different with you. I see it."

You frowned, picking up a pen and twirling it between your fingers. "Laura’s nice to me, yeah. But that doesn’t mean anything. She’s indifferent to most of the other teachers, and she barely talks in class. I don’t even know if she likes me, or if it’s just... I don’t know."

"She doesn’t warm up to just anyone," Emma pointed out. "You’re different. She looks at you like she trusts you, and Logan trusts you too, whether he shows it or not. That’s not something that happens often with them. They’re... well, guarded, for obvious reasons."

You were quiet for a moment, thinking about Laura. It was true—she was quiet, distant with others, but with you? There was something different. She’d even started staying after class sometimes, just sitting there while you graded papers or prepped for the next lesson. And Logan? He was always nearby, watching, but never intruding.

Still, the idea of anything happening between you and Logan felt... complicated. "Even if he did trust me, it’s not like he’s the type to be thinking about relationships. The man’s got enough on his plate. And me? I’ve got work, and... I’m not exactly relationship material."

Emma laughed, shaking her head. "Please, Y/N. If anyone deserves a chance at something real, it’s you. You’ve spent so long taking care of everyone else—your students, your job. Maybe it’s time to let someone take care of you for a change."

You looked at her, skeptical. "You think Logan is the type to 'take care of' someone?"

She smirked. "He already is. He’s just doing it in his own way. And trust me, the way he looks at you? There’s more there than you realize. You just have to stop overthinking it."

Before you could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Emma stood up, giving you one last knowing smile before heading for the door. "Just think about it, Y/N. Sometimes, the best things happen when you least expect them."

You watched her go, your mind still swirling with doubt and a tiny sliver of hope. Could there really be something more between you and Logan? Or was it just your imagination?

As your students started filing back into the room, you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the rest of the day. But even as you taught your lessons and graded papers, Logan lingered in the back of your mind.

---

Later that evening, you found yourself in the garden, pulling weeds and trying to clear your head. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm orange glow over the small town. You liked this time of day—the quiet, the calm.

Just as you were settling into the rhythm of pulling weeds, you heard footsteps behind you. Turning around, you saw Logan standing there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Need any help?" he asked, his gruff voice breaking the silence.

You blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, with the garden? I’m just pulling weeds."

He shrugged, stepping closer. "Doesn’t hurt to have an extra set of hands."

You smiled, feeling a bit awkward but oddly touched by the offer. "Sure, if you’re up for it."

Logan crouched down next to you, pulling at the weeds without saying much. The two of you worked in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the rustling of plants and the distant hum of traffic.

Eventually, you spoke up, trying to break the tension. "So... Laura’s been doing well in class. She’s quiet, but I think she’s starting to come out of her shell a bit."

Logan glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Yeah? That’s good to hear. She doesn’t talk much at home either."

"She’s a smart kid," you added, pulling another weed. "But I think... she could use someone to talk to. Someone she feels safe with."

Logan was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "She’s been through a lot. Trust doesn’t come easy for her."

You hesitated, then asked, "What about you? Do you feel safe here?"

He looked at you, his expression softening just a little. "Safer than I’ve felt in a long time."

That simple admission hit you harder than you expected. Logan, this gruff, guarded man, was letting his walls down, even just a little. It made your heart ache in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

"That’s good," you said quietly, your eyes meeting his. "I’m glad."

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The quiet between you felt heavy but not uncomfortable. Logan’s presence was grounding, solid in a way that made you feel... safe too.

Finally, he broke the silence. "I appreciate what you’ve done for Laura. She doesn’t trust many people, but with you... it’s different."

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. "I’m just doing my job. She’s a good kid, like I said."

Logan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. "It’s more than that. She trusts you. And... so do I."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. There was something unspoken in the air between you, something neither of you was ready to address. But it was there, simmering just below the surface.

"Logan, I—"

Before you could finish, he stood up, brushing the dirt off his hands. "Anyway, I’ll let you get back to it."

You stood up too, feeling the weight of what was left unsaid hanging in the air. "Thanks for the help."

He gave a brief nod, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he turned to leave. "Anytime."

As you watched him walk away, your heart was pounding in your chest. There was no denying it now—there was something between you and Logan. Something real. And it scared you just as much as it excited you.

---

Parent-teacher conferences always stressed you out. Gathering all your students’ information, organizing it all, it was hectic and unreasonable. You couldn’t understand why an email didn’t suffice.

Possibly the worst thing about it is the fact it took place in the school gym, which had no AC. The heat was almost unbearable, making your clothes stick to your skin as you shuffled through your notes, waiting for the next parent to arrive to your table.

The gym was packed, parents and their kids moving between tables as they talked to teachers, making the already stifling room feel even hotter. You fanned yourself with the stack of notes you’d organized earlier, feeling sweat prickle at your back.

You glanced at your list of appointments, sighing when you saw who was next: Logan. You hadn't expected him to come. Laura was doing well enough in your class, but she wasn’t exactly the type to care about grades. You figured Logan would be the same—practical, but not overly concerned about school meetings.

You straightened up, glancing around to see him approaching with Laura by his side. She looked slightly uncomfortable, her arms crossed and her gaze focused anywhere but the gym, while Logan was, well... Logan. His expression was gruff, unreadable as usual, but there was something in his eyes that softened when he saw you.

“Ms. Aberra,” Logan greeted as he reached your table, giving you a nod.

“Logan,” you said, smiling at Laura. “And Laura. How are you two doing?”

Laura shrugged, barely meeting your gaze. Logan pulled out the chair for her, and she reluctantly sat down, still quiet. He stayed standing, leaning on the back of the chair, watching you with that familiar intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said lightly, trying to ease the tension. “Laura’s doing fine in class. Really, there’s not much to talk about.”

Logan glanced at Laura, then back at you. “Figured I’d come by anyway. See how things are goin’.”

You nodded, pulling up Laura’s grades on your tablet. “Well, like I said, she’s doing great. She’s one of the best in the class, actually. Quiet, but I can tell she’s always thinking.”

Laura’s face remained impassive, but there was the slightest twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips.

“She’s got potential,” you continued, looking at Logan. “Especially in science. I think she’d be great at anything she wanted to do, honestly.”

Logan grunted in response, but there was a proud glint in his eye. “That’s good to hear.”

Laura finally spoke up, her voice quiet but clear. “I like science. And math.”

You smiled, surprised by her willingness to engage. “Well, you’re really good at it. I was thinking, if you ever wanted, there are some extracurriculars coming up. Science club, math competitions—stuff like that. It might be fun.”

Laura glanced at Logan, who simply shrugged. “Up to you, kid.”

She seemed to think about it for a moment, then nodded slightly. “Maybe.”

“Well, no pressure,” you said, trying to keep it casual. “You can always decide later.”

There was an awkward pause as you flipped through the rest of Laura’s grades, though there wasn’t much else to say. She was excelling, especially considering her background. You couldn’t help but feel a little protective over her, knowing what she’d been through.

“So, uh, anything else you need to know?” you asked, looking back up at Logan.

He shook his head. “Just wanted to check in, make sure she’s on track.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth in his words even if he didn’t show it. “She’s doing great. Really.”

Logan gave you a brief nod, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary before he straightened up. “Thanks.”

You watched as he turned to Laura, ready to leave, but she didn’t stand just yet. Instead, she glanced between the two of you, her brow furrowed slightly like she was piecing something together.

“Are you... friends?” she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the noise of the gym.

You blinked, taken aback by the question. Logan seemed just as surprised, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly recovered.

“Well,” you said slowly, glancing at Logan for a cue. “I guess you could say that.”

Logan cleared his throat, crossing his arms. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

Laura’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she didn’t quite believe it but wasn’t going to argue. “Okay.”

She stood up, her chair scraping against the floor as she started toward the exit. Logan hesitated for a moment, giving you one last look before following her. “See you around,” he said, his voice gruff but softer than usual.

You watched them go, feeling that strange mix of emotions again—the warmth, the uncertainty, the possibility of something more. As the door closed behind them, you realized that, for once, you didn’t mind the heat. It was a small town, and people noticed everything. But you were starting to wonder if maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Laura grabbed his hand as they exited the gym, having already seen her other teachers. She looked up at Logan, as he stared straight ahead at the truck in the parking lot. “Creo que ella te gusta.”

He let out a huff, “kid, don’t know how many times I gotta say it, but I don’t know Spanish.”

Laura gave him a sidelong glance, clearly unimpressed by his response. "You should learn," she muttered under her breath, squeezing his hand as they reached the truck.

Logan grunted as he fumbled for the keys, a slight wince crossing his features as he slid into the driver’s seat. He glanced at Laura, who was already buckling herself in without a word. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t quite easy either.

He turned the key in the ignition, the truck sputtering to life as he pulled out of the parking lot. His mind wandered back to the parent-teacher conference, and specifically to Y/N. She’d always been good with Laura, he could see that. But lately, something about her seemed to calm him too—a feeling he wasn’t used to and didn’t quite know how to handle.

“You like her,” Laura said, breaking the silence with her blunt observation. It wasn’t a question.

Logan’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “She’s a good teacher. You like her, too.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Laura said, crossing her arms. “You act different when she’s around. You don’t growl as much.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any real humor. “I don’t growl.”

“Yes, you do,” Laura said, looking out the window. “But not at her.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Instead, he focused on the road, trying to push away the thoughts circling in his mind. He wasn’t a man used to... feelings, especially not ones that left him unsure. But Y/N had a way of sneaking under his defenses, and that scared him more than he’d like to admit.

“I like her,” Laura said quietly after a long stretch of silence.

Logan glanced at her, surprised by the soft admission. Laura didn’t trust people easily, and she certainly didn’t like many. But her words carried weight, especially to him.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

Laura nodded, still looking out the window. “She’s not like the others. She doesn’t treat me like I’m different.”

Logan felt a knot in his chest loosen, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the relief of knowing Laura had found someone she trusted, or maybe it was the way Y/N had already become a part of their lives, without him even realizing it. Either way, he didn’t say anything more, just drove the rest of the way home in silence, lost in his own thoughts.

---

The next morning, you thanked the stars that it was Saturday. You were exhausted from the large amount of human interaction last night and decided to sleep in a bit before tending to the garden.

After that, and taking a shower, you slipped into comfortable clothes, some small shorts and a large t-shirt that covered the shorts, since it only getting warmer outside.

Even with that said, you couldn’t help but crave chocolate chip cookies, thanking the stars once again that you had all the ingredients.

You turned on the oven, allowing it to pre-heat, as you grabbed a mixing bowl and walked around your small kitchen looking for the ingredients listed on your worn-out piece of paper. You still hadn’t memorized the recipe after making it for years.

The doorbell ringed as you poked your head out the side of your kitchen. When you answered it, you were pleasantly surprised to find Laura outside, wearing what you could only describe as a cute grey shirt with a colorful bear on it. You’d never say it to her, she’d probably leave if you said she looked cute.

“Hey, Laura. D’you need anything?”

“Daddy said I could help with the garden.” She spoke softly.

“Oof, sorry kiddo. Already did it this morning.” You looked back inside your house before turning back to Laura, “though, I could use some help making cookies.”

Laura hesitated for a second, her dark eyes studying you as if trying to decide whether this was worth her time. You were still getting used to her quiet, guarded nature, but you’d learned quickly that she was different around you compared to other people. It was like you had some sort of unspoken understanding, even if you didn’t fully get why.

“Okay,” she finally said, stepping past you into the house.

You closed the door behind her, walking back into the kitchen and grabbing a second mixing bowl. “You ever make cookies before?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at her.

Laura shook her head, standing by the counter as she watched you.

“Well, today’s your lucky day. I’m about to show you the magic of sugar, butter, and chocolate chips.” You grinned as you started measuring out the ingredients. “Can you hand me the brown sugar?”

She scanned the countertop before reaching for the brown sugar, silently passing it to you. You got the feeling she wasn’t used to this kind of thing—normal, mundane stuff like baking cookies on a lazy Saturday. Not that you knew her whole story or anything, but you’d heard enough about Logan and his complicated life to guess Laura hadn’t had a typical upbringing.

As you started mixing the butter and sugar together, you tried to think of something to say. Conversations with Laura could be tricky; she wasn’t the chatty type, and you didn’t want to push her too much.

“So,” you started, keeping your tone casual, “what’s Logan up to today?”

She shrugged. “Resting.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. Logan resting was a good thing. You knew he’d been having a rough time lately with his health, even though he wasn’t the type to admit it. You figured he was just being stubborn, refusing to slow down even though it was clear his healing wasn’t what it used to be.

Laura remained silent, watching as you added the flour to the mix.

“You wanna stir?” you asked, offering her the spatula.

She looked at it for a moment before stepping closer and taking it from you. Her movements were careful, deliberate, and you couldn’t help but smile as she focused on the task.

“Nice job,” you said, giving her a thumbs-up. “You’ve got a future in cookie-making, I can tell.”

Laura didn’t react much, but you swore you saw the tiniest flicker of amusement in her eyes.

As she stirred, you reached for the chocolate chips. “Best part of making cookies—sneaking a few of these before they go in the dough.” You tossed a couple into your mouth, then held the bag out to her.

She paused, looking at the chocolate chips like she wasn’t sure what to do. After a second, she picked one up and ate it, chewing thoughtfully.

You chuckled. “See? Told you it’s the best part.”

Laura kept stirring the dough while you got the baking sheets ready. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, just… quiet. You didn’t mind it, though. Laura wasn’t the type of kid who needed constant conversation, and you appreciated that about her.

As she worked, you glanced at her again, feeling a strange sense of protectiveness. You didn’t know what exactly she’d been through, but whatever it was, you could tell it had shaped her into someone far older than her years.

When the dough was ready, you started scooping it onto the trays. “Almost done,” you said. “Then it’s just a waiting game while they bake.”

Laura nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she watched you.

You slid the trays into the oven and set the timer before turning back to her. “You want some water or anything while we wait?”

She shook her head, her eyes still on the oven like she was trying to figure out why people made such a big deal out of cookies.

“Well, I’m grabbing a drink.” You poured yourself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as you sipped. “It’ll take around 12 minutes for them to finish. Then we put in another batch, and another until the dough has all been used.”

Laura gave a small nod, her eyes still focused on the oven. It was like she was trying to figure out if all this waiting was actually worth it.

You studied her for a moment, wondering what was going on in that head of hers. She never really said much, but it was clear there was a lot happening behind those dark, watchful eyes. You weren’t exactly sure why she’d taken to you, but you were grateful for it. Laura didn’t let many people in, that much was obvious.

“I can show you a movie. Or maybe some music? I usually play somethin’ while I wait.”

Laura glanced up at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “Music,” she said quietly.

You smiled, glad she was at least open to that. “Cool. Let’s see what we got.” You pulled out your phone and scrolled through your playlist, landing on something mellow, nothing too upbeat or distracting. You hit play, letting the soft sounds of a guitar fill the room.

Laura leaned against the counter, listening, her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t fidgety or impatient, just quiet, like she was absorbing everything around her.

You took another sip of water, watching her from the corner of your eye. “You ever help Logan with stuff like this? Like cooking?”

She shook her head. “No.”

You figured as much. “Well, if he ever asks, you’ll be a pro now.” You winked at her, earning the tiniest of shrugs in return.

You both stood there in a comfortable silence, letting the music play. It wasn’t awkward, just… peaceful. The smell of the cookies starting to bake filled the kitchen, and for a moment, it was easy to forget all the heavy stuff hanging in the air—Logan’s health, Laura’s past, whatever weight she carried that you didn’t fully understand yet.

After a few minutes, Laura spoke up. “I talked to Logan about you… last night.”

You paused, surprised she’d bring it up. “Oh yeah? What’d he say?”

She didn’t answer right away, her gaze fixed on the oven. “He said you’re... different from other people. In a good way.”

A warmth crept into your chest at that. “Well, that’s nice of him to say. I think he’s pretty different too, you know. In a good way.”

Laura looked at you, her expression unreadable. “He likes you,” she said, her tone flat, but there was something in the way she said it, like it was a fact she was still processing.

You felt your cheeks heat up a little. “Yeah? Well… I like him too.”

She stared at you for a moment longer before nodding slowly, like she was piecing something together in her head. “He doesn’t trust people. But he trusts you.”

You swallowed, not quite sure how to respond to that. “I’m glad he does. I mean… I care about him, Laura. And you too.”

Laura’s eyes flickered with something—maybe understanding, maybe something else you couldn’t quite name. She didn’t say anything for a while, just looked down at the floor.

Before the silence could stretch too long, the oven timer beeped, cutting through the moment.

“Cookies are done,” you said, turning to grab the oven mitts. You pulled the trays out, setting them on the counter to cool. The smell was even stronger now, warm and sweet, filling the entire kitchen. “Wanna taste test one?”

Laura hesitated for a second before nodding.

You carefully lifted a cookie from the tray, holding it out to her. “Careful, it’s hot.”

She took it, blowing on it before taking a small bite. You watched as she chewed, her face still neutral, but you could tell she liked it.

“Good, right?” you asked, biting into one yourself.

Laura nodded again, chewing slowly. For a split second, you thought you saw a hint of a smile tug at the corner of her mouth, but it was gone just as quickly as it came.

As you both stood there, munching on cookies, the air felt lighter, like some kind of invisible barrier between you had shifted just a little. You didn’t know all of Laura’s story, but you didn’t need to. What mattered was that she was here, sharing this small moment with you, and that was enough.

“So,” you said after a few minutes, breaking the silence. “What should we do next? More cookies? Or maybe try out that movie?”

Laura looked at the remaining dough, then back at you. “More cookies.”

You grinned. “Good choice. Let’s make this batch even better.”

---

After all the cookies came out of the oven, you sent Laura home with a container of some of the batch. You could never eat them all on your own, and you ended up giving some away anyways, so why not give some to Laura?

You walked Laura to your front door and watched as she crossed the street, her figure disappearing behind the door three houses down. There was always something surreal about the way she moved—so quiet, so controlled, like she had learned to blend into the background. It made you wonder what her life had been like before coming here.

When Laura walked in, the container held tightly to her chest, Logan sat on the couch, the soft murmur of the TV barely audible as he sipped from a whiskey bottle. His eyes flicked over to her as the door clicked shut behind her.

“You were gone a while,” he muttered, his voice rough but not harsh.

Laura shrugged, walking past him toward the kitchen. “Made cookies.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, watching her disappear from view. The faint clinking of a container hitting the counter reached his ears. He knew she didn’t do stuff like this unless someone dragged her into it. “With Y/N?” he asked, taking another sip.

Laura reappeared, nodding as she plopped down beside him on the couch, the container of cookies now on the coffee table.

Logan stared at it for a moment, then gave a small grunt of approval. He reached over and grabbed a cookie from the container, breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring the sweetness that felt out of place in his usual world of bitterness and whiskey.

“Not bad,” he muttered, glancing at Laura. “You help with these?”

She shrugged again, still watching the TV, but there was a hint of satisfaction in her expression that didn’t go unnoticed by Logan.

“Hmm,” he grunted, leaning back. “Maybe next time, you can bring some whiskey to wash ‘em down.”

Laura didn’t smile, but her lips twitched slightly as if she was trying not to.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, the low hum of the TV filling the room. Logan’s thoughts drifted back to Y/N. He didn’t trust people easily—never had, and probably never would. But Y/N was different. He’d seen how she handled Laura, how she didn’t push too hard or ask too many questions. And she was patient, something Logan knew he didn’t have much of.

“Y/N’s a good one,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Laura didn’t say anything, but she shifted slightly, leaning her head against the arm of the couch.

Logan watched her for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. He knew settling down wasn’t really in his nature, but for Laura’s sake—and maybe a bit for his own—he was trying. And Y/N? She made that easier, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“She ask about me?” Logan asked, more curious than he wanted to let on.

Laura nodded, her eyes still on the screen. “Yeah. I told her you were resting.”

Logan snorted. “Resting. That’s a nice way of putting it.”

Laura didn’t respond, and Logan didn’t push further. He knew what Y/N probably thought—that he was just some grumpy guy with a limp, maybe a few too many scars for comfort. She didn’t know the half of it. But she didn’t pry either, and for that, he was grateful.

“Guess I’ll have to thank her for the cookies,” Logan said after a while, taking another sip from the bottle. His mind wandered to the thought of Y/N—the way she smiled when she was around Laura, how she always seemed to have the right balance of patience and understanding. It wasn’t just anyone who could handle a kid like Laura, let alone make her feel comfortable enough to bake cookies on a Saturday.

“She likes you too, you know,” Laura said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Logan’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Y/N,” Laura clarified, her tone as flat as ever. “She likes you.”

Logan chuckled, though there was a bit of discomfort behind it. “You don’t know that, kid.”

Laura looked at him, her gaze piercing and a little too wise for someone her age. “She does. I can tell.”

Logan stared back at her, caught off guard by how matter-of-fact she sounded. It was hard to argue with Laura when she had that look on her face, the same look that said she saw through everything and didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

He cleared his throat, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, well… that’s her problem, not mine.”

Laura didn’t react, just turned back to the TV. But Logan could feel her eyes on him for a few seconds longer before she settled back into the cushions.

Logan shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of Laura’s words hanging in the air. He wasn’t used to people ‘liking’ him in the way Laura seemed to imply. People tolerated him, sure, maybe even respected him, but liking him? That was new territory.

He let out a sigh and reached for another cookie. It wasn’t worth thinking about. Not right now.

But even as he chewed in silence, he couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N—and what it might mean if Laura was right.

---

A few days later, you found yourself at Logan’s house helping Laura with some of her English homework. You usually don’t make ‘house calls’ to help students, but you couldn’t deny Laura.

Logan stayed seated in the living room, drinking a beer and watching the TV. But really, he was pretending not to listen to their conversation in the kitchen.

“You’re doing good, Laura.” You said.

Laura shrugged, her eyes flicking over to Logan in the living room. “Can you stay for dinner?” She asked you.

Logan’s head snapped up at that. He hadn’t expected Laura to ask, but there was no denying that the kid had gotten attached to you. Before you could answer, Laura added, “I made something. With Logan.”

That was a lie, of course. Laura had barely touched the stove since the cookies, but she gave Logan a look that told him to back her up.

Y/N smiled softly. “I wouldn’t say no to dinner.” She glanced at Logan. “If that’s okay?”

Logan grunted, shifting his weight. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

Laura gave a small nod, clearly satisfied with the answer. You smiled, pushing the papers aside. “Guess I’m staying for dinner, then.”

Logan shot Laura a look, one that said what exactly are we eating? but she ignored him, turning her attention back to you. “It’s nothing fancy,” she said, which wasn’t reassuring.

“Well, I’m excited. Food always tastes better when someone else cooks it,” you joked, standing up to stretch your arms.

Logan watched you from the corner of his eye as he sat back down on the couch, pretending to be more interested in the muted TV than he actually was. You couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed a little tenser whenever you were around, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He was trying to stay low-key, but you could tell he was keeping tabs on every move you made, every word you said.

“So, what’s on the menu?” you asked, trying to ease the quiet that had settled over the room.

Laura, sitting across from you, didn’t answer right away, like she was carefully considering her next move. Logan’s eyes flicked over to her, waiting for her response.

“Spaghetti,” she finally said, her voice as flat as ever.

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile. “Oh yeah? Sounds good.”

Logan gave a low grunt from the couch, and you could tell by his expression that he was trying to figure out when they’d supposedly made spaghetti. But he didn’t contradict Laura, just took another swig from his beer.

“Well, I’m looking forward to it,” you said, standing up from the kitchen table. “Let me know if you need any help.”

Laura didn’t say anything, just headed to the stove where a pot of water was already simmering. You followed her, glancing at the nearly-empty box of spaghetti on the counter. It was clear she hadn’t done this a lot, but the effort was what mattered. And if it meant spending more time with her—and Logan—you weren’t about to complain.

“I’ll get the sauce going,” you offered, stepping beside her. Laura gave you a slight nod, sliding over to make room.

Logan watched from the couch, his eyes narrowing as if he was weighing the situation. He hadn’t expected you to just roll with it, but then again, you always had a way of adapting.

“So, how’s school?” you asked Laura, trying to keep the conversation light while you opened the jar of sauce.

“It’s fine,” she said, her tone noncommittal.

You stirred the sauce, giving a little shrug. “Well, if you ever need help with any other type of homework, you know where to find me.”

She glanced up at you, her expression unreadable, but something in her eyes softened for a second. “I know.”

The two of you worked in quiet sync, with Laura focusing on the pasta and you keeping an eye on the sauce. It wasn’t long before the kitchen started to smell of tomatoes and garlic, the scent filling the air and making the small space feel cozy. For a while, the only sounds were the bubbling pot and the clinking of utensils.

Logan shifted on the couch, clearing his throat. “Need me to do anything?”

You glanced back at him with a smile. “Just sit there and look pretty, Logan. We’ve got this.”

A low chuckle escaped him, though his face didn’t change much. “That so?”

Laura glanced at Logan, her expression unreadable, but you caught the briefest hint of approval in her eyes before she turned back to stirring the pasta.

Once everything was ready, you and Laura brought the food to the small dining table. You plated up the spaghetti, topping it with sauce and a sprinkle of Parmesan. Logan joined you both, moving slower than he probably realized, and sat down with a grunt.

As you all ate, the room stayed comfortably quiet. It wasn’t one of those forced silences that felt awkward—it was more like everyone was just settling into the moment. Laura was still guarded, but you could tell she was starting to relax, even if it was just a little.

“You did good, Laura,” you said, twirling some spaghetti on your fork. “This tastes great.”

She didn’t say anything, just kept eating, but you saw her shoulders ease up ever so slightly.

Logan, on the other hand, glanced between the two of you, chewing slowly. He hadn’t been big on cooking or anything domestic like this, but he could tell Laura had put in effort. He took another bite, grunting his approval. “Not bad,” he said quietly.

You smiled to yourself. This whole thing wasn’t exactly what you’d planned for the evening, but it was nice in its own way—just simple, like normal people having dinner together.

As you were finishing up, Logan pushed his chair back, grabbing his beer bottle from the table. “I’ll handle the cleanup,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

You raised an eyebrow, standing to gather a few plates. “You sure?”

Logan waved you off. “Yeah. Laura and I got it.”

You nodded, stepping back. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it then.”

Laura watched you quietly, her dark eyes flicking between you and Logan. You could tell she wasn’t used to this kind of thing, the casual ease of sharing a meal and cleaning up afterward. But she was learning, and it seemed like she didn’t mind having you around for it.

“Well,” you said, grabbing your bag from the chair. “Thanks for dinner, you two. I’ll see you around?”

Logan grunted in acknowledgment, giving you a nod. Laura followed you to the door, her small figure standing by your side as you reached for the handle.

Before you could leave, she spoke up. “Will you come over again?” Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

You smiled softly. “Of course. Anytime.”

She nodded, her face still unreadable, but there was a certain calmness to her now, a trust that hadn’t been there before.

You gave her a little wave before stepping out into the evening air. As you walked back to your house, you couldn’t help but think about how unexpected this had all been.

---

You muttered to yourself, hanging up the phone. Your sink had started to leak, and even though you were fairly handy, when you tightened the pipes, it did nothing.

So here you were, on your lunch break, looking for a handyman that didn’t want to charge you $200 for a quick fix.

Emma walked in, holding a folder with her lesson plans. “So…”

You rolled your eyes, “don’t start.”

“What! I’ve told you, word travels fast. Rose saw you leavin’ his house last night.”

“Rose?” You shook your head, “that woman is 85 and still gossips like she’s 20.” You put your phone down, “I was helping Laura with her English homework.”

"Helping Laura with her English homework?" Emma raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "You mean, at ten o'clock at night? Sure, Y/N."

You groaned, leaning back in your chair. “It wasn’t like that. She’s struggling with some of the writing prompts, and Logan’s... well, you know he’s not exactly the best person for that.”

“Uh-huh,” Emma nodded slowly, setting her folder down. “I’m just saying, you and him… there’s something there. You can deny it all you want, but people see things.”

“People need hobbies,” you muttered. “Besides, Logan’s... complicated. It’s not that simple.”

“I’m not saying it is,” she shrugged. “But you’ve been spending more and more time with him and Laura lately. I’m just curious.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “Curious about what, exactly?”

“Just curious when you're going to admit you like him,” Emma smirked.

“I don’t—" you started to argue, but stopped yourself. “Emma, he’s… I mean, I care about him, but it’s not like that. He’s a single dad with a kid, and I’m just the neighbor who helps out sometimes.”

“Yeah, sure, Y/N.” Emma grabbed her folder and gave you a pointed look, “if you don’t make a move, someone on the ‘Wolverine Watchers’ will.”

You choked on the iced coffee you took a sip of, “the what?”

Emma grinned, “the ‘Wolverine Watchers’. A bunch of women in the town created a Facebook group about him. I joined out of curiosity.”

You blinked at Emma, still processing what she’d just said. “Hold on—there’s a Facebook group about Logan? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Emma said with a smug smile. “They call themselves the ‘Wolverine Watchers.’ There’s, like, at least 30 women in it. Maybe more.”

You shook your head in disbelief, sinking back into your chair. “That’s insane. Why would anyone even...”

“Oh, please,” Emma interrupted. “Don’t act like you don’t get it. He’s rugged, mysterious, barely speaks to anyone, and he’s got the whole grumpy-silver-fox thing going on. They eat it up. Hell, even I get it.”

You glared at her. “You’re not helping.”

She leaned against the desk, still grinning. “Just saying, don’t wait too long, or one of them might swoop in.”

You waved her off, though a part of you felt oddly defensive about the whole thing. “Logan’s not interested in any of that.”

Emma shrugged, pushing off the desk and heading for the door. “Maybe. Maybe not. But are you interested?”

You opened your mouth to respond before shaking your head. “Okay. I’m going to forget this part of our conversation and continue to try and look for a plumber or handyman.”

Emma laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Fine, fine. But if you need help with Logan or plumbing, you know where to find me.”

She left the room at the same time Laura walked in. She walked over to the front of your desk and stared at you with those eyes of hers. “You need help?” Laura finally asked.

You shook your head, “no. Just need a plumber. The sink in my kitchen is leakin’.”

Laura tilted her head slightly, considering something. “Why don’t you ask daddy?”

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Because your dad’s busy, and it’s not his problem to deal with. I’ll figure it out.”

“He fixed the dishwasher last week,” she pointed out quietly, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “And the dryer.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to bother him with stuff like this,” you countered, trying to ignore how her face lit up every time she mentioned something Logan had done for you. “I’m sure he’s got enough on his plate.”

Laura didn’t respond right away. Instead, she leaned against your desk, her small fingers tapping lightly on the wood. “He likes helping,” she murmured, almost like she was testing the waters.

You looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, but quickly glanced away, pretending to focus on the bulletin board behind you. “He’s good at fixing things.”

You watched her for a moment, your irritation from earlier starting to melt away. It was hard to stay frustrated when she was being so earnest. “Okay, okay, I get it. But your dad doesn’t need to be the town’s go-to handyman.”

Laura glanced up at you through her lashes. “Just tell him. Please?”

There was something almost… hopeful in her gaze, and you felt a twinge of guilt. Laura wasn’t the type to ask for much. If this meant that much to her…

“Fine,” you sighed, holding up your hands in surrender. “I’ll ask him. But only because you asked nicely.”

Laura’s lips twitched in the faintest smile, a look of victory crossing her face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but you’re not off the hook yet,” you teased gently. “You still owe me an essay on Newton’s laws of motion, remember?”

She scrunched up her nose, making a face. “I know. I’ll finish it.”

“Good,” you nodded, giving her a playful wink. “And don’t go trying to bribe me with homework just to get me to talk to your dad, okay?”

Laura’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “I would never.”

“Uh-huh,” you said skeptically. “Alright, head back to class. Lunch is almost over.”

She gave a small nod, then glanced back at you before leaving. “He really likes you, you know.”

Your heart stuttered, caught off guard by her bluntness. “Laura—”

“Just saying,” she added quickly before ducking out the door and heading down the hallway.

You stared at the empty doorway, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Liking you? What did that even mean coming from an eleven-year-old?

You shook your head, trying to push the thought away. Logan was… well, Logan. Gruff, quiet, and often impossible to read. And sure, he’d been more present lately, but that didn’t mean anything. He was just being a good neighbor.

You glanced at the time on your phone, groaning softly. Lunch was almost over, and you hadn’t even finished setting up for the afternoon class.

“Guess I’ll ask him about the sink,” you muttered under your breath, more to convince yourself than anything.

Because if Laura was already noticing things, how long would it be before the whole town started talking?

---

That evening, after school had ended and you’d finally managed to get through the rest of your lesson plans, you found yourself standing in front of Logan’s place. It was only a short walk down the street, and yet, your feet felt heavier with each step.

You could hear the faint sound of a TV through the open window and the soft murmur of voices—Laura and Logan, probably talking about her day. It was… nice. Domestic. Something that made your chest tighten with an inexplicable emotion.

“Just ask about the sink and go,” you whispered to yourself, giving a firm nod. “No big deal.”

You knocked lightly, and a few seconds later, the door swung open to reveal Logan. He was in his usual attire—flannel shirt, jeans—and he looked at you with that same unreadable expression.

“Hey,” you said, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze. “I, uh, wanted to ask for a favor.”

His brow furrowed slightly, and he stepped back, gesturing for you to come inside. “What’s goin’ on?”

You hesitated, then took a deep breath. “My kitchen sink started leaking, and… well, I tried fixing it, but I think I made it worse. Laura said you’re good at this kind of stuff, so I thought… maybe…”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You want me to take a look at it?”

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly. “If you’re not too busy. I don’t want to—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, already grabbing a toolbox from a nearby shelf. “Let’s go.”

You blinked. “Wait, you don’t want to, like, finish dinner or something first?”

He shot you a look that was almost amused. “I’m not gonna let your kitchen flood because of a sink. C’mon.”

You let out a small laugh, relieved by his reaction. “Okay, fair point. Thanks, Logan.”

“No problem,” he grunted, stepping out onto the porch. “Lead the way.”

As you walked back to your place, you stole a glance at him. Logan might have been gruff and intimidating to most people, but you’d come to learn there was more to him than that.

When you reached your house, Logan set to work immediately, inspecting the pipes under the sink. You leaned against the counter, watching as he tinkered and adjusted, his movements methodical and precise.

“You didn’t have to come over right away,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “I know you’ve got a lot going on.”

He didn’t look up, just shrugged. “It’s fine. Better to fix it now than let it get worse.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you murmured. “But still… thanks.”

Logan glanced at you then, his eyes lingering for a moment longer than usual. “You don’t gotta thank me every time I do somethin’ for you, Y/N.”

“I know,” you replied, offering a small smile. “But I want to.”

He gave a low grunt, something between acknowledgment and dismissal, and returned his focus to the pipes. You stayed silent, watching him work, trying to make yourself useful by occasionally handing him a tool or holding a flashlight.

“You’ve done this before, huh?” you asked, breaking the silence again.

Logan didn’t look up, but you saw the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Couple times.”

“Fixing sinks?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Or just everything?”

“Everything,” he muttered. “You learn to handle stuff when no one else can.”

There was an unspoken weight behind his words, something you didn’t pry into. You knew Logan had been through more than he let on—there were pieces of his life you still hadn’t put together, and you weren’t sure you ever would. But that didn’t stop you from being curious.

Instead, you chose to keep the conversation light. “Well, I appreciate it. I probably would’ve made a bigger mess if I’d kept trying.”

He grunted again, this time almost in agreement, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Okay, I walked into that one,” you admitted. “But seriously, thank you. Laura was right—you are good at this.”

Logan tightened the last pipe and stood, wiping his hands on a rag. “She talks too much sometimes.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “She’s just proud of you.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes darkening for a brief moment before he shifted the subject. “It’s done. Shouldn’t leak anymore, but if it does, just call me.”

You nodded, feeling that strange tightening in your chest again. “Got it. Thanks again.”

Logan grabbed his toolbox and started for the door, but something in the air between you both felt unfinished, like there was something unspoken hanging there. Before you could second-guess yourself, you called out.

“Logan?”

He paused, his back to you.

“I meant what I said earlier,” you continued, a little more quietly this time. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, and I don’t want to add to it. But I appreciate you helping me.”

Logan turned, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place. For a second, you thought he might say something, but then he just gave a slow nod.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he finally said. “If you need somethin’, I’ll be around.”

He turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing in your kitchen, staring after him. You exhaled, feeling a mix of confusion and warmth.

Later that evening, as you cleaned up and prepared for the next day’s lessons, you couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in your head. Logan’s quietness, his willingness to help, Laura’s knowing smiles. There was something stirring there, something more than just neighborly concern.

But you pushed the thoughts aside, reminding yourself of the practicalities. Logan was a single dad with a complicated past, and you… well, you had your own life to focus on. This wasn’t the time to start overthinking things.

Still, as you drifted off to sleep that night, the image of Logan fixing your sink—focused, calm, and oddly comforting—stayed with you.

---

You’ve never liked storms. You’re not sure why, you grew up in Houston where it rained consistently and encountered a few hurricanes.

But when you turned 18, you went to college further north in Texas, getting away from the rain and finally getting sunshine and real heat, not humid heat.

It never rained much in the north of Minnesota, but when it did rain, it rained a lot. So much so that the school cancelled classes for the rest of the week.

You could use the time to catch up on grading assignments, but instead you found yourself barely able to keep your attention on the TV, flinching every time you heard thunder.

The storm outside raged on, lightning flashing every few seconds, followed by the rumble of thunder that rattled the windows. You glanced at the stack of papers you’d set aside to grade, but your mind just wasn’t in it.

“Why does it always feel worse at night?” you muttered, sinking deeper into the couch, trying to focus on the TV.

Then, a knock at the door startled you. You weren’t expecting anyone, especially with the weather this bad.

You got up, hesitating for a second before opening the door to reveal Laura, soaked from head to toe, holding a small flashlight.

“Laura? What are you doing out here?” you asked, eyes wide with concern.

“Our power went out,” she explained quickly, shivering slightly. “Daddy said I could come over here since your lights are still on.”

You frowned, glancing past her toward Logan’s house, which was barely visible in the heavy rain. “Is your dad coming over too?”

Laura shrugged, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “He said he’d figure it out.”

You closed the door behind her, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and handing it to her. “You should’ve just called, you know. I would’ve come to get you.”

Laura gave you a small smile as she dried off. “It’s fine. I didn’t want to wait.”

You shook your head, unable to suppress a smile at her stubbornness. “Of course you didn’t.”

The two of you sat in the living room for a while, Laura settling into the corner of the couch with her legs tucked under her, still glancing out the window at the storm every so often.

“How long’s the power been out?” you asked after a few minutes.

“Since just after dinner,” she replied. “Daddy was gonna try and fix it, but he said it might take a while.”

You nodded, already feeling a little guilty. If the power didn’t come back on soon, you’d probably end up with both of them staying over. Not that you minded, but it was one of those situations where you didn’t want to impose. Especially with Logan.

Almost on cue, there was another knock at the door, this one heavier, more deliberate.

You didn’t even have to look to know it was Logan.

You opened the door to find him standing there, drenched like Laura had been. His hair was plastered to his head, and his usual gruff expression was softened slightly by the rain dripping from his face.

“Come on in,” you said quickly, stepping aside.

Logan entered, shaking off some of the rain before giving you a nod. “Thanks. Power’s out, and I don’t think it’s comin’ back anytime soon.”

You closed the door behind him and offered him a towel, which he accepted without a word. He glanced over at Laura, who had made herself comfortable on the couch, and then back at you.

“You alright with us bein’ here?” he asked, his voice low but genuine.

“Of course,” you replied, waving it off. “I’m not gonna let you sit in the dark with no heat.”

Logan nodded, though there was something in his eyes—something like gratitude, though he didn’t voice it.

The three of you sat in the living room for a while, the storm still raging outside. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable silence, but it wasn’t awkward either. Just... quiet. Logan wasn’t one for small talk, and Laura seemed content just to be around people, her gaze flicking back and forth between you and her dad.

As the night wore on, the storm didn’t let up, and Laura’s eyelids started to droop. You glanced at the clock, noting how late it was getting.

“You’re welcome to stay the night,” you offered, glancing between them. “It’s still coming down pretty hard out there, and I don’t think the power’s coming back on soon.”

Laura perked up at the suggestion, but Logan hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “We’ll be fine,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t wanna impose.”

“You’re not imposing,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “There’s a guest bedroom, and I’ve got blankets. Besides, I’m not letting either of you walk back in this mess.”

Laura, sensing her opportunity, chimed in before Logan could object. “I want to stay,” she said quietly, her eyes big and hopeful.

Logan sighed, glancing at his daughter, clearly torn. “Laura…”

“Daddy, it’s still storming,” she added, her voice soft but insistent. “We can stay, right?”

You jumped in before he could refuse. “It’s no trouble, Logan. Really. Laura can take the guest bedroom, and I can sleep on the couch.”

Logan gave you a skeptical look. “You’re not sleepin’ on the couch in your own house.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s your bed,” he grunted. “I’ll take the couch.”

Before you could argue, Laura piped up again, her voice full of innocent mischief. “You could both sleep in the bed.”

Your eyes widened, and you quickly glanced at Logan, whose expression had shifted to one of slight surprise.

“Laura,” you started, but she just shrugged, clearly enjoying this more than she should have been.

“What?” she said innocently. “It’s a big bed.”

Logan sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re not helpin’, kid.”

Laura just grinned, her eyes gleaming with quiet victory. “I think I am.”

You cleared your throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “I’m fine with sleepin’ on the couch, really. Can’t really sleep when it’s stormin’ anyways.”

Laura, still lounging on the couch, piped up again, her grin growing wider. “You could just share the bed.”

Your face flushed, and you shot her a look. “Laura—”

“What?” She shrugged, playing innocent, but you could see the hint of mischief in her eyes.

Logan sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Kid, stop messin’ around.”

She held up her hands in surrender, but the teasing smile on her face didn’t budge. “I’m just saying it’s an option.”

You shook your head, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “Laura, you’re gonna sleep in the guest room. I’ll be on the couch. End of story.”

Laura rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “Fine.”

Logan glanced at you, his eyes softening for a brief moment before he muttered, “You sure about this? I don’t wanna take your bed.”

You waved him off, trying to sound casual. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. Just get some rest. You’ve been out in the rain long enough.”

He hesitated for a second, then gave a small nod. “Alright. But only because you won’t stop arguin’.”

“Exactly,” you said, smiling a little as you grabbed an extra blanket from the hallway closet and tossed it to Laura. “You can get settled in the guest room, kiddo.”

Laura caught the blanket and headed toward the guest room with a little bounce in her step, clearly pleased with how things were turning out. You watched her disappear down the hallway before turning back to Logan, who was still standing in the living room, looking somewhat out of place.

“You can leave your wet clothes by the door if you want,” you offered, trying to keep things normal, even though the situation felt anything but.

Logan gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgment, pulling off his soaked jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. He moved slowly, like he was still debating whether to argue about the sleeping arrangements again, but thankfully, he didn’t.

After a minute, he glanced back at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You really are stubborn, you know that?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Takes one to know one.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he walked past you toward your bedroom. “Fair enough.”

Once he disappeared into the room, you let out a small sigh, running a hand through your hair. This was... not how you expected your night to go. Sharing your house with both Logan and Laura during a storm, with Laura sneakily playing matchmaker. It was almost funny, if not for the fact that Logan being this close made your heart race a little too much for comfort.

You settled back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over yourself and staring at the TV screen without really watching it. The sound of rain pounding against the windows and the occasional crack of thunder filled the quiet, but it was hard to focus on the storm when you knew Logan was in the next room.

Laura had probably planned this all along.

You glanced toward the hallway where the guest room was, wondering if she was already asleep—or if she was lying there, scheming her next move.

Thunder broke you out of your thoughts, making you flinch slightly under the blankets.

You settled deeper into the couch, but sleep wasn’t coming any easier despite the exhaustion from the day. Your mind kept wandering, mostly back to Logan and how natural it had started to feel having him and Laura around. Maybe a little too natural.

A sharp crack of thunder rattled the windows, and you flinched again, instinctively pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. You’d thought you were getting used to storms, but this one was relentless, dragging on with no signs of easing up.

Just when you started to think you’d be up all night, you heard the soft creak of the floorboards behind you. You turned, expecting to see Laura coming out of the guest room, but instead, Logan stood there in the dim light of the living room, looking as uncomfortable as you felt.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady, despite the storm.

He shrugged, leaning against the doorway. “Not used to sleepin’ anywhere but my own bed.”

You nodded, biting back a knowing smile. “Yeah, I get that. Storm’s not helping much either.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to the window, then back to you. His gaze was a little softer than usual, like the storm had taken some of the edge off his usual roughness. “You alright? Heard you jumpin’ every time the thunder hits.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush off his concern. “It’s nothing. Just... not a fan of storms.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Logan said, stepping further into the room. He hesitated for a moment, then moved to sit on the armrest of the couch, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Don’t have to tough it out, y’know.”

You looked up at him, caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone. It wasn’t like Logan to be this open, to offer any sort of comfort. He usually kept things buried under layers of gruffness and distance.

“Guess I’m just used to toughing it out,” you said softly, offering him a small smile.

Logan studied you for a moment, his eyes flicking over your face, like he was weighing his next words carefully. “You don’t always have to. Not with us.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. You weren’t sure what to say. This side of Logan—the quiet, protective side—was something you’d only seen glimpses of before, but tonight, it was like the storm had brought down some of his walls.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you finally said, but your voice lacked its usual conviction.

“Not worryin’,” Logan replied, his gaze steady. “Just statin’ a fact.”

The thunder rolled again, quieter this time, as if the storm was finally starting to let up. Logan’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, before he stood up, looking like he was about to head back to the bedroom.

But then he paused, glancing over his shoulder. “If you want... there’s room in the bed.”

Your breath hitched, and you blinked up at him, not sure if you heard him right. “What?”

Logan’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, but his expression remained serious. “I ain’t suggestin’ what Laura was earlier,” he muttered, a little embarrassed. “Just... if it helps you sleep better, I don’t mind. Couch’s not exactly comfortable.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. Logan wasn’t the type to offer comfort lightly, and the idea of sharing a bed with him—platonically or not—made your pulse quicken.

“I—” You faltered, unsure how to respond. But something in the way he was looking at you made it clear this wasn’t just about the storm or being polite. This was about something more—something that had been quietly building between the two of you for a while now.

Before you could overthink it, you nodded. “Okay.”

Logan’s eyebrows raised slightly, surprised by your answer. He stepped aside as you stood, grabbing the blanket from the couch. Neither of you said anything as you walked down the hallway to your bedroom, the tension thick but not uncomfortable—more like an understanding had settled between you.

Once inside, Logan shifted awkwardly as you took your side of the bed, pulling the blanket over yourself, trying to act like this was normal, like your heart wasn’t racing in your chest. Logan laid down on the opposite side, keeping a respectful distance, though the bed felt smaller with him in it.

The sound of the rain outside softened, though the occasional rumble of thunder still rolled in the distance. You stared at the ceiling, hyper-aware of Logan beside you, the space between you feeling charged.

“You good?” Logan asked after a minute, his voice low in the quiet.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m good.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“Thanks,” you added, not just for offering the bed, but for being there, for not making this weird.

Logan turned his head slightly to look at you, his eyes soft in the dim light. “Ain’t nothin’.”

But it was something. It was a lot, actually.

You both lay there in silence for a while, the sound of the rain becoming almost soothing. You could feel the warmth of him next to you, solid and reassuring, and slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease.

Just as your eyes started to drift closed, Logan’s voice broke the silence again, so quiet you almost missed it.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured, his voice gruff but sincere. “You don’t have to do this on your own. Not with us around.”

Your heart swelled, a mix of emotions you weren’t quite ready to confront just yet. You didn’t know what to say, so instead, you reached out, your hand brushing against his in the small space between you.

Logan didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers curled gently around yours, his grip warm and steady.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you fell asleep without flinching at the sound of thunder.

---

You woke up to the sound of soft rain pattering against the window, the storm from last night finally easing up. For a second, you forgot where you were, until you felt the weight of the blanket and the warmth of another presence next to you. Logan. His steady breathing filled the quiet space, and you shifted slightly, careful not to wake him.

This was new.

You glanced over at him, his face relaxed in sleep, the tension he usually carried nowhere to be found. It was strange seeing him like this—calm, almost peaceful. You could feel the residual warmth from his hand where he’d held yours last night, and the memory made your chest tighten.

Carefully, you slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb the rare moment of quiet. You padded out into the hallway, stopping by Laura’s room to peek in. She was still asleep, wrapped up in blankets, her small body barely a lump under the covers.

You smiled to yourself, already suspecting that she had something to do with last night’s sleeping arrangements. Laura was too clever for her own good sometimes.

In the kitchen, you started brewing coffee, the scent filling the small space. As you waited for it to finish, you found yourself staring out the window, your mind still on Logan. Last night had been... unexpected. But not unwelcome. The way he’d stayed close, offering comfort without making a big deal out of it—it meant more than you wanted to admit.

The soft creak of footsteps behind you pulled you out of your thoughts.

“You’re up early,” Logan’s gravelly voice broke the quiet.

You turned to see him leaning against the doorway, his hair still a little mussed from sleep, but otherwise looking much like his usual self.

“Couldn’t sleep much after the storm,” you shrugged, offering him a small smile. “Coffee?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, moving to sit at the kitchen table. “Thanks.”

You poured two mugs, setting one in front of him before taking a seat across from him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, just sipping your coffee in the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

Logan glanced at you over the rim of his mug, his eyes softer than usual. “You sleep alright?”

You hesitated, remembering how easily you’d fallen asleep next to him. “Better than I expected, honestly.”

He grunted in acknowledgment, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess the storm wasn’t as bad as you thought.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck. “Or maybe it was the company.”

Logan’s smirk widened slightly, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on you again. “Thanks for lettin’ us stay. Laura didn’t give you much choice, huh?”

“She didn’t have to,” you replied with a shrug. “I wasn’t gonna let either of you stay in a freezing house with no power.”

Logan nodded, his eyes drifting to the window. “Power should be back on soon. I’ll head back once it’s up.”

You didn’t say anything, but part of you felt a pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. You hadn’t had many moments like this—quiet, with just the two of you—and you found yourself wanting it to last a little longer.

Laura’s quiet footsteps broke the silence as she padded into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Mornin’, kid,” Logan greeted her.

“Mornin’,” Laura mumbled, glancing between the two of you with a knowing look before plopping down at the table. “Is the power back on yet?”

“Not yet,” you said, trying to ignore the way she was eyeing you and Logan.

Laura just shrugged, grabbing the cereal box from the counter and helping herself. “Guess we’re stuck here a little longer, huh?”

You shot her a look, but she didn’t seem fazed, her focus on her cereal. It was hard to tell if she was playing innocent or if she was just that good at pretending.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation.

Laura perked up at that. “You said you’d help me with my English homework, remember?”

You blinked. “I—uh, right. Yeah, I did say that.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking at Laura. “Since when do you need help with English?”

Laura shot him a quick look before turning back to you, all smiles. “I figured Ms. Aberra would be better at explaining it than you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, starting to catch on. “I’m sure you’re doing fine in English, Laura.”

She shrugged, playing with her spoon. “Yeah, but it’s better when someone explains it.”

Logan just shook his head, clearly not buying it either, but he didn’t say anything, letting Laura’s little game play out.

“Well,” you said, getting up from the table. “I guess we can take a look at it after breakfast.”

Laura grinned, clearly pleased with how things were going. “Thanks, Ms. Aberra.”

You smiled back, even though you knew something was up. Sure, you had been helping her with English homework for a while now, but she didn’t need the help. When she would show you her essays or answers to questions about a reading, they were always perfect. Still, you played along, grabbing your coffee and heading toward the living room.

“Alright,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at her. “Go grab your stuff, and we’ll take a look.”

Laura jumped up, cereal forgotten, and dashed off to retrieve her things. You settled onto the couch, sipping your coffee and trying to push aside the strange feeling that this was part of something bigger. But what?

Logan followed you into the living room, sitting down in the worn armchair opposite you. He gave you a look—one eyebrow slightly raised, lips set in that half-smirk he sometimes wore when he was figuring someone out.

“She really roped you into this, huh?” he asked, voice low and rough.

You shrugged, trying to seem casual. “It’s not a big deal. I’m used to kids asking for help with schoolwork.”

“Yeah, but Laura? She doesn’t ask for help unless she’s got some kind of angle.”

You laughed softly, but the truth of his words settled somewhere in the back of your mind. Laura wasn’t just a smart kid—she was calculating. You’d seen it in class and at home. The way she observed things, the way she always seemed to know what was going on, even when no one said a word.

“I guess I’ll find out,” you said, leaning back into the couch.

Before Logan could reply, Laura returned, a small notebook and a pencil in hand. She sat beside you, flipping it open to a random page. You glanced at the page, immediately noticing that it was filled with neat, almost perfect handwriting. The essay she’d written didn’t have a single correction or revision mark.

“Alright,” you began, pretending you didn’t see the perfection in front of you. “What do you need help with?”

Laura handed the notebook over, her face perfectly serious. “I just wanted to know if the introduction’s strong enough.”

You skimmed through the first paragraph, and honestly, it was better than anything you’d expect from a sixth grader. If anything, it felt more like she was testing you than asking for actual feedback.

“It’s good,” you said slowly. “Your thesis is clear, and you have a strong opening sentence. You might want to make the transition to your first point a little smoother, but overall, it’s solid.”

Laura nodded thoughtfully, pretending to make a note in her notebook. You watched her for a moment, trying to figure out what game she was playing. There was no way she needed your help, but for some reason, she wanted you here. And Logan, too.

Logan just sat quietly, watching the two of you like he wasn’t quite sure what was happening either. His hand rested on the arm of the chair, fingers tapping lightly. You could feel his presence, steady and grounding, even when he wasn’t saying anything.

Laura glanced at her dad. “Ms. Aberra’s a pretty good teacher, don’t you think?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to you, his smirk back in full force. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

You gave Laura a suspicious look. “You’re not just buttering me up for extra credit, are you?”

Laura’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “No. I just like the way you explain things.”

“Mhm.” You weren’t buying it, but it was hard not to laugh.

The quiet hung between you all for a moment, just the sound of the rain outside and the occasional scrape of Laura’s pencil against her notebook. It felt… peaceful, despite the nagging feeling that something was going on beneath the surface.

“Alright, well,” you finally said, pushing yourself up from the couch. “Looks like you’ve got this handled, Laura. I don’t think you need much help.”

Laura blinked up at you, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks anyway.”

You caught the look she sent Logan’s way, and suddenly, it clicked. She didn’t need your help with homework—she was just trying to get you to stick around a little longer. Maybe even trying to give you and Logan more time together.

Smart kid.

Logan, of course, said nothing, just watching you with that unreadable expression he wore so well. You could never quite tell what he was thinking, and it both frustrated and intrigued you.

"So," Laura said suddenly, breaking the quiet. "What’s the plan today?"

You glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "You’re the one with the notebook full of perfect essays. I thought you had plans."

Laura grinned at that, not even trying to hide it anymore. "I was thinking we could all go out for lunch. Since we’re stuck here."

Logan gave her a look, but didn’t say anything, clearly seeing through her. You stifled a laugh, playing along. "Lunch, huh? You paying?"

Laura shrugged, looking way too pleased with herself. "I’ll ask nicely. Maybe you’ll cover it."

You shook your head, pretending to think it over. "Might be able to swing it."

Logan snorted. "Real generous of you."

"Hey, I’m a teacher. Gotta budget wisely," you shot back, smirking at him.

Laura just smiled, clearly happy with how things were going, and it hit you again—she was definitely playing matchmaker. Subtle, but it was there. Not that you minded. Spending more time with Logan wasn’t exactly a hardship.

Logan leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on you, though. "You’re sure you don’t mind us hanging around?"

You tilted your head, genuinely surprised. "Logan, if I minded, I wouldn’t have let you in. You’re both always welcome here."

For a second, he looked like he was going to argue, but then he just gave a slow nod, like he was accepting it—maybe even appreciating it, though he’d never say that out loud. "Thanks."

You shrugged, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal, even though you knew it kind of was. "Don’t mention it."

Laura got up, stretching her arms over her head before grabbing her empty bowl. "I’ll go get ready for lunch then," she said, already heading to the sink. "I’m starving."

You watched her go, then turned back to Logan, raising an eyebrow. "Think we’ve got time for that before the power comes back on?"

Logan shrugged, his smirk returning. "Could be out a while longer."

"Convenient," you muttered, though there was no real bite to it.

Logan chuckled, a low, rough sound that made something in your chest tighten. He set his empty mug on the coffee table and stood up, stretching slightly. "Guess we better make sure the kid doesn’t eat the place out of food while we wait."

You laughed, following him into the kitchen. The dynamic between the three of you felt easy now, comfortable in a way that surprised you. Even with Laura’s not-so-subtle attempts at matchmaking, there was something natural about how you and Logan were around each other. It wasn’t rushed or forced. Just... right.

Laura appeared from the hallway, already dressed and tugging on her jacket. "Ready when you are," she said, a little too cheerfully.

Logan gave her a look. "We haven’t even decided where we’re going."

"I’ll leave that up to the grown-ups," she said, grabbing her shoes.

You exchanged a glance with Logan, both of you clearly thinking the same thing: this kid was way too clever for her own good. But neither of you called her out on it.

"Alright," Logan finally said, grabbing his jacket. "Let’s get going before the power comes back and ruins her plan."

Laura grinned but didn’t say anything, grabbing your hand as you all headed out into the damp, cool air. The rain had finally stopped, but the sky was still overcast, a soft, gray light filtering through the clouds.

You walked beside Logan, Laura skipping a few steps ahead, her eyes darting around like she was taking everything in. She was always like that—watching, observing. And now you knew why. She was playing a long game, slowly pushing you and Logan closer together, little by little.

You couldn’t help but smile. She was good. Really good.

And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to appreciate her efforts.

---

The school did something special for parents on Valentine’s Day. Instead of just handing out donuts or cupcakes, they did a competition.

There was different challenges for each couple, or pairing, to finish, and to make it even better, their kids would have to guide them on certain challenges, like walking blindfolded to the finish line on the field.

Emma glanced over at you as you were going through the list of parent’s names, making sure everyone had a partner. There were a few single parents, so you had to figure out who they should be paired with. But there was an odd number, one parent would have to sit out.

“So… who’s sitting out?” Emma asked, leaning on the desk next to you. She had that casual curiosity in her tone, but you knew she was just as invested in making sure things ran smoothly as you were.

You chewed your lip, staring at the list. “Looks like we’ve got one extra parent. I’m not sure yet.”

Emma peeked over your shoulder, scanning the names. “What about Logan?”

You paused, looking at the list. Logan’s name was there, as was Laura’s, but you hesitated. He wasn’t exactly the type to jump into school events, especially one that involved blindfolds and teamwork. And while he’d been involved in Laura’s life, you weren’t sure he’d want to participate in something like this.

“Yeah, guess he can sit out. We have an odd number of parents anyways.” You put down the clipboard and looked at the empty donut box, “I’ll be right back. Gonna go to the other room and get another box.”

As you moved toward the door, you noticed Laura sitting quietly in the corner, fiddling with her notebook, watching everything with that usual sharpness in her eyes. She had been quiet all morning, almost too quiet. You gave her a smile before heading to the break room, still feeling a little awkward about pairing up the parents.

Emma stayed behind, her eyes flicking between you and Laura, a slight smirk tugging at her lips like she was onto something.

You weaved through the hallway, your mind still on the whole situation. These parent events were always a little tricky when it came to single parents. You knew Logan wasn’t exactly the type to jump into the school scene, especially for something like a Valentine’s Day competition, but you couldn’t help but think maybe he’d want to give it a shot for Laura.

Grabbing the donut box, you paused for a second. The idea of Logan being there today, paired up with someone else, didn’t sit right. Not that you had any reason to feel that way. It was just... Logan. You weren’t even sure if he’d show up.

When you returned to the room, Laura was still sitting there, now scribbling something in her notebook. She glanced up as you entered, her expression neutral but her eyes watching you closely.

“Everything okay?” you asked, setting the fresh box on the table and moving to grab the clipboard again.

Laura nodded. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“Thinking about the competition?” You smiled, trying to make conversation, but she just gave you a vague shrug.

“Something like that.”

Emma glanced at you, her smirk still there as she made a little noise of amusement. “Logan didn’t strike me as the ‘competition’ type. But who knows?”

You shot her a look, but before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan walked in. Speak of the devil. He looked around, taking in the sight of parents getting ready, kids buzzing with excitement. His eyes landed on you, and he gave a short nod, his usual gruff greeting.

“You’re here,” you said, surprised, trying to keep your voice casual. “Didn’t think you’d make it.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his hands in his pockets. “Laura signed us up. Thought I’d better show.”

Laura, sitting nearby, perked up but kept her face mostly neutral. She wasn’t about to blow her cover, not yet anyway.

“Right,” you said, glancing down at the clipboard. “Well, there’s an odd number of parents, so... I was thinking maybe you’d sit out.”

Laura, quick as ever, jumped in. “Or you could partner with someone else.”

You blinked at her, caught off guard. “Well, yeah, I guess, but we don’t really have—”

“You could partner with Daddy.” Laura said it so simply, like it wasn’t a big deal, like she hadn’t been plotting this for weeks.

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced between the two of you, clearly realizing what his daughter was doing, but he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, waiting for your reaction.

You stammered a bit, caught completely off guard. “I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea...”

Laura gave you a look, one that said she knew exactly what she was doing. “It’s just for the competition. Besides, it’ll be fun.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to you again, and this time, there was a slight smirk on his face. “It’s just a game, right? We’ll survive.”

Emma, watching the whole thing play out, was trying very hard not to laugh. “Looks like you’re stuck with Logan, Y/N.”

You felt a wave of heat rise in your cheeks. It was one thing to think about spending time with Logan, but being thrown into a school competition with him—especially with Laura being the mastermind behind it—was another.

“Okay, fine,” you muttered, trying to act like this wasn’t a big deal at all. “I guess we’ll partner up.”

Logan just gave a nonchalant shrug. “Let’s get this over with.”

Laura’s eyes practically sparkled with victory as she hopped up from her seat, already heading toward the field where the first challenge would take place. You followed, trying to shake off the awkwardness, but it was impossible with Logan right next to you.

As you reached the field, the first task was announced: a three-legged race. Of course. Out of all the challenges, it had to be this one. You glanced over at Logan, who was already eyeing the ropes being handed out for the pairs to tie their legs together.

"This should be interesting," Logan muttered under his breath, taking one of the ropes and holding it out for you.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your nerves behind a smile. "I feel like this is a recipe for disaster."

Logan’s lips quirked into a smirk. "Only if you don’t keep up."

"Me?" You chuckled, shaking your head as you bent down to tie the rope around your ankle and his. "You’re the one with the bum leg."

Logan grunted, not arguing, though his usual swagger was still intact. "I’ll manage."

Laura stood off to the side, watching with a faint smile, clearly enjoying the show. You could tell she was pleased with herself, and part of you was too, even if you were trying to act like this was no big deal.

"Alright, ready?" Logan asked, standing up straighter after securing the rope.

"As I’ll ever be," you replied, trying to gauge the best way to navigate the race without falling flat on your face.

The whistle blew, and before you knew it, you were awkwardly hopping forward, one leg bound to Logan’s as you tried to find some sort of rhythm. The first few steps were disastrous—Logan’s longer strides making it nearly impossible for you to keep pace without stumbling.

"Slow down!" you laughed, grabbing his arm to steady yourself as you nearly tripped.

Logan smirked, his hand quickly coming to your waist to keep you from toppling over. "You gotta move faster than that, Y/N."

"Or maybe you need to move slower!" you shot back, trying to adjust your steps to match his. After a few shaky moments, you finally found a rhythm, the two of you moving in sync—well, mostly. Logan’s hand lingered at your waist, steadying you as you both half-hopped, half-laughed your way toward the finish line.

"Not bad," Logan grunted as you crossed the line, not quite first, but definitely not last either.

"Not bad?" You shot him a look, still a little breathless from laughing. "I’m pretty sure we almost face-planted three times."

"Could’ve been worse," he replied with a shrug, that smirk of his still in place.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the way your heart was still racing—though you weren’t sure if it was from the race or from the fact that Logan had kept his arm around your waist longer than necessary.

Laura, waiting at the sidelines, gave you both a knowing look as you untied the rope. "You guys were pretty good," she commented casually, though the glint in her eyes said otherwise.

"Pretty good?" you echoed, shooting her a playful glare. "We almost ate dirt, Laura."

Logan grunted in agreement but didn’t say much, just shaking his head as he rubbed his leg a bit. You noticed the slight grimace that flashed across his face—something you hadn’t seen often, but it was there for just a moment before he covered it up.

"Next challenge is... egg balancing," Emma announced from the other end of the field, holding up a spoon and a carton of eggs.

You and Logan exchanged a look, and you couldn’t help but laugh. "Oh, this’ll be fun."

Logan just sighed, clearly less than thrilled about the prospect of trying to balance an egg on a spoon, but he didn’t protest. You handed him one of the spoons as you lined up for the next round.

"You got a steady hand?" you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

Logan glanced at the spoon, then back at you. "Steadier than yours, probably."

"Let’s see about that," you shot back, placing the egg carefully on your spoon. The whistle blew, and you both started across the field, trying to keep the fragile eggs from toppling off. You had to admit, Logan had a surprising amount of focus for a guy who usually looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

"Not bad for an old man," you joked, glancing over at him as you both carefully moved toward the finish line.

"Careful, Y/N. That’s how you get egg on your face," Logan muttered, but you could hear the amusement in his voice.

Just as you were nearing the end, Laura darted over, watching closely. "Come on, you guys can do it!"

It was hard to ignore the pride in her voice—she was definitely enjoying watching you two work together. And maybe, despite the ridiculousness of it all, you were too.

By the time you finished, both of your eggs still intact, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. It was silly, sure, but being paired with Logan for these goofy challenges wasn’t as awkward as you thought it might be. In fact, it was... kind of nice.

"Two for two," Logan said with a smirk, handing his spoon back as the event wrapped up.

"Don’t get too cocky," you replied, bumping his arm lightly as you handed yours in too. "We’ll see how you do with the next one."

Laura appeared beside you again, her eyes bright. "You guys make a good team."

You gave her a sideways glance, trying not to read too much into her words. "Yeah, well, it’s all about teamwork, right?"

Logan didn’t say anything, but his eyes met yours for a brief moment, and there was something there—something unspoken that made your heart skip a beat.

The rest of the day went by in a blur of silly games and laughter, and by the time the event was over, you were exhausted, but in the best way possible. Logan had stayed the whole time, never complaining or trying to bow out early. Laura, of course, was thrilled with how things had turned out, and you couldn’t help but feel like she had succeeded in whatever plan she had been cooking up.

As the parents and kids started to trickle out of the school, you found yourself standing beside Logan near the door. Laura had already run ahead to grab her things, leaving the two of you alone for a moment.

"Thanks for sticking around," you said, glancing up at him. "I know this probably wasn’t your idea of a fun day."

Logan shrugged, his usual nonchalant expression in place. "Wasn’t so bad."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I’m glad you came. Laura seemed to really enjoy it."

"Yeah," Logan agreed, his gaze softening slightly as he looked in the direction where Laura had run off. "She’s a good kid."

"She is," you said, nodding. "And she’s lucky to have you."

Logan didn’t respond right away, but after a moment, he gave a small nod. "Thanks."

There was a brief silence between you, the air charged with something unspoken but palpable. Before you could say anything else, Laura came bounding back, her backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Ready to go?" she asked, looking between the two of you with that same knowing glint in her eyes.

"Yeah," Logan said, ruffling her hair lightly. "Let’s get outta here."

As they started to head for the door, Logan paused, glancing back at you. "See you around, Y/N."

"Yeah," you replied, feeling your heart skip again. "See you around, Logan."

---

It had been a few days since the Valentine’s Day event, and things had settled back into routine. You were sitting in your living room, halfway through grading papers, when there was a knock on your door.

Opening it, you found Logan standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, looking slightly out of place.

"Hey," he greeted, voice low. "Laura wanted me to ask if you'd join us for dinner tonight. Nothing fancy. Just... thought it’d be nice."

You blinked, surprised by the invitation. Logan wasn’t exactly the type to invite people over casually, but something about the way he stood there, slightly awkward, made your heart skip a beat.

"Sure," you said, smiling. "I’d like that."

Dinner at Logan’s place was unexpectedly warm. Laura set the table with care, and you found yourself laughing more than you expected as Logan recounted some old stories about his past. The tension that usually simmered between you felt different tonight—softer, like you were slowly crossing an invisible line you’d both been careful to avoid.

As you helped clear the dishes, your hand brushed against Logan’s, and the brief contact made you pause. He glanced at you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. It was like a quiet acknowledgment of something building between you.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, his voice low, his gaze lingering just a little too long.

“Anytime,” you replied softly, feeling the weight of his eyes on you as you turned to put the plates away. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, but it was hard with Logan standing so close. It was like every time you were around him, you felt like something unspoken hovered between you—something that Laura, in her quiet, clever way, seemed determined to help along.

Laura wandered back into the room, a book in her hands. “Y/N, can you help me with my English homework?” she asked, holding it up and glancing between you and Logan like she hadn’t just interrupted a moment.

You blinked, turning to her with a small smile. “Of course, I can take a look.”

“Great!” Laura said, her voice a little too cheerful. She plopped down on the couch and spread her notebook and book out in front of her. “It’s this essay I’ve got to write.”

Logan lingered by the kitchen counter, his eyes flicking to Laura’s book with an expression you couldn’t quite read. “I’ll leave you two to it, then,” he muttered, and before you could say anything, he was stepping outside, probably to get some fresh air or give you and Laura some space.

You turned your attention back to Laura, still smiling but a bit confused. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got here.”

Laura launched into an explanation, talking about a character analysis she needed to do for class. As you glanced over her notes, though, it struck you that everything was pretty much perfect. Her sentences were clear, her argument made sense, and she’d clearly put a lot of thought into it. Like always, it was perfect.

“Laura… this is really good,” you said slowly, giving her an impressed look. “I don’t think you need help with this.”

Laura’s face stayed impassive, but you caught a faint hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Just wanted to make sure it was okay,” she said casually, glancing in the direction Logan had gone.

Something clicked then, and you had to suppress a chuckle. So this was just another one of Laura’s little schemes to get you to stick around. You were starting to see the pattern—tiny excuses to keep you close, to get you and Logan in the same room more often. It was subtle, but now that you were catching on, it was impossible to miss.

“Well, your essay’s great,” you said, folding your arms as you gave her a knowing look. “But I think there’s more going on here than just English homework.”

Laura’s gaze stayed steady on yours, and for a moment, you could see a glimpse of something deeper in those eyes—something far beyond her years. “He’s lonely,” she said quietly, so softly that you almost missed it.

Your heart gave a small squeeze at that. It was true that Logan always seemed like a man on the outskirts of everything, never quite fitting in. And you knew he and Laura had been through a lot together, more than most people could imagine. But he wasn’t exactly the type to talk about his feelings—or admit he might need someone else in his life.

“Maybe,” you replied gently, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. “But that’s something he has to figure out on his own, okay?”

Laura nodded slowly, but she didn’t look entirely convinced. “He likes you,” she said, blunt as ever. “And you like him.”

Your cheeks heated, and you glanced away, trying to keep your voice steady. It wasn’t the first time Laura has said something like this. “It’s not that simple, Laura.”

“Why not?” she asked, her brow furrowing like she genuinely didn’t understand.

You struggled to find the right words. How could you explain that things with Logan were complicated—that you weren’t sure where you stood with him, or if there was even a place for you in his life beyond being Laura’s teacher? And yet, every time you were near him, there was this pull, this quiet magnetism that made you wonder.

“I just… don’t want to mess things up,” you admitted finally, feeling a little silly for having this conversation with an eleven-year-old.

Laura’s gaze softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. “You won’t.”

Before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan stepped back inside, his gaze immediately going to the two of you. “Everything okay?” he asked, his tone gruff but laced with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Yeah, we’re good,” you said quickly, trying to push down the strange mix of emotions Laura’s words had stirred up. You stood up, smoothing down your shirt as you gave him a smile. “I should probably get going, though. It’s getting late.”

Logan nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that almost looked like disappointment. “I’ll walk you out.”

He led you to the door, and you hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Laura. She gave you a small, encouraging smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thanks again for coming,” Logan said as he opened the door, his voice a little softer than usual.

“Anytime,” you replied, echoing your earlier words as you stepped outside. The cool night air hit you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of Logan’s gaze on you.

There was a long pause, the kind that felt like something should be said, but neither of you knew what. You shifted on your feet, biting your lip as you glanced up at him.

“Logan, I—”

“Y/N, I—”

You both spoke at the same time, then paused, sharing a startled laugh.

“You first,” Logan muttered, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I just… I wanted to say that I really enjoyed tonight. And I know Laura’s been… well, playing matchmaker or something,” you added with a chuckle, “but I just want you to know that I’m not—”

“Using her as an excuse to get close?” Logan finished for you, his voice dry but not unkind.

You nodded, feeling a little self-conscious. “Yeah.”

Logan stood there, his eyes steady on yours, and for a moment, you both let the silence fill the space between you. He shifted his weight, his usual stoic expression softening just a bit, and for the first time, it felt like he was truly considering what to say next.

"Look, I know Laura's been trying to push things," he said, his voice low and gruff, but gentler than usual. "She's... smart, too smart sometimes. But this—tonight—it wasn’t just about her."

You blinked, surprised by his admission. You weren’t used to Logan being so open, especially about anything personal. He seemed to read the surprise in your face and let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck like this was harder for him than any physical fight he’d been in.

"What I mean is," he continued, glancing at the ground before his eyes flicked back up to yours, "it’s not just her, Y/N. I didn’t mind tonight. And that’s not something I say often."

Your breath hitched a little at his words, heart beating a little faster. There was a vulnerability in Logan that you weren’t expecting—a side of him that he clearly didn’t let out much, if at all.

"I didn’t mind it either," you said softly, trying to match his tone, to let him know you weren’t taking this lightly. "And Laura... well, she’s got a way of seeing things."

Logan let out a quiet chuckle, a rare sound that caught you off guard. "Yeah, she does. Sometimes I think she’s too smart for her own good." His eyes softened as he spoke about her, a fondness there that made you smile.

"She just wants you to be happy," you said gently. "And, I guess, maybe me too."

Logan looked at you for a long moment, something unspoken passing between you, and for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—there was something more here than just a shared concern for Laura. You had always admired Logan’s strength, his quiet loyalty, the way he looked after Laura with such fierce protectiveness. But standing there now, with the night air cool against your skin and Logan’s presence so close, it felt different. More personal.

"You know," Logan said after a long pause, his voice low again, "I don’t exactly have a lot of people in my life. Never been good at that sort of thing. But... you’re good with Laura. And you’re—" He stopped, his jaw tightening for a second like he wasn’t sure if he should say the next part. "You’re good for us."

Your heart thudded in your chest, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you could feel the weight of what he wasn’t saying—the layers beneath that simple statement. You’re good for us. It wasn’t just about being Laura’s teacher anymore. It was about something more.

Your heart thudded in your chest, but you forced a smile to keep things light. “Good for you?” you repeated with a slight chuckle. There was an ache there, something that hinted at how much more those words meant coming from Logan—someone who didn’t let people in easily. The way he looked at you, steady and deliberate, made it hard to brush aside. His eyes held yours a little longer than usual, almost daring you to look away.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice a low rumble, and you couldn’t help but notice how the weight of the night seemed to gather between you, thick in the air. Logan’s usual guarded stance had softened, just enough for you to sense it. He stepped a bit closer, enough that you could feel the faint warmth of him, the earthy scent of cigars and the wild outdoors clinging to his skin.

You shifted on your feet, trying to figure out where this was heading, but the flutter in your chest only grew stronger. Something unspoken seemed to pass between you two, like a current beneath the surface, waiting for one of you to reach down and touch it.

“I think Laura’s got something figured out,” you admitted, voice soft as you kept your eyes on him. “She’s smart enough to see what’s happening here.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, barely-there smile. “Yeah, too smart sometimes.” His gaze fell to the ground for a moment, and when he looked back up at you, there was something different there—something raw. “But she’s right. You’re good for us. Hell, you’re good for me.” His words carried a weight, a kind of honesty that took you by surprise, even though deep down, you’d been hoping to hear them for a while.

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure, but your pulse quickened. “Logan, I…” You started to say something—anything—to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat. He was so close now, you could feel the heat radiating off him, and there was a wildness in his eyes that drew you in.

And then, as if some invisible line snapped, Logan took another step toward you, his rough hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His thumb grazed your skin, the touch light but electrifying. “I don’t say things like this often,” he muttered, his voice husky, the growl in it more pronounced now, “but I want you to stay close. For Laura, yeah, but... for me too.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in, your body reacting to the closeness of him, the way his hand lingered on your cheek. It wasn’t just the softness in his eyes or the tenderness of his touch, but the way he was looking at you, like he was seeing more than just the surface.

“I’ve wanted to stay close,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper, as your hand gently touched his chest. His heartbeat was strong, steady, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn in, like the pull between you was more than just chemistry.

Logan’s gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the cool night air, the sound of distant traffic, even the faint light from inside the house. All that mattered was the closeness, the way you could feel his breath mingling with yours.

Before you knew it, Logan was leaning in, and you closed the gap without thinking. His lips pressed against yours, rough and warm, and everything else just melted away. The kiss was slow at first, almost tentative, but then it deepened, and the heat between you flared like wildfire.

His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer against him, and you could feel the solid strength of his body as you pressed into him. The kiss was everything you hadn’t let yourself think about for so long—filled with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface, waiting to spill over.

Logan kissed like he lived—intensely, without holding back. His grip on your waist tightened as if he was afraid to let go, and you responded in kind, threading your fingers into the rough texture of his hair. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing; just the two of you, connected in this raw, unexpected moment.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you both stood there for a moment, neither of you saying anything. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and Logan’s forehead rested against yours, his breath still ragged.

“I—” you started to speak, but he cut you off, his voice low and hoarse.

“Don’t,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t ruin it with words, not yet.”

You nodded, biting back whatever thought was trying to escape. The night air felt cooler now, the warmth of Logan’s body contrasting sharply against it, grounding you in the moment. His hand lingered on your waist, thumb brushing your side, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, like even he was surprised by what just happened.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, voice quieter than before. “Didn’t think this’d happen,” he admitted, almost to himself.

You gave a soft laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “Me either.”

His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and he shifted slightly, his hand moving from your waist to gently brush your cheek. The gesture was so uncharacteristically tender for him that it made your heart twist a little.

For a moment, you both just stood there, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between you. Part of you wanted to step back, to put some distance between you and Logan, to give yourself a chance to think. But another part—the stronger part—wanted to stay right where you were, feeling the warmth of his hand on your skin, the rough edge of his thumb grazing your cheek.

Meanwhile, Laura peeked through the blinds, a smile spreading across her face.

tags: @freythecrazyfae