#but it seems as though i have been proved wrong
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Yes, the "all characters are fictious or used fictiously" disclaimer started in the 1930s after Princess Irina Alexandrovna sued over a character based on her in a movie about Rasputin.
Though in modern terms that's used for films and TV shows far more than it is for books, and it doesn't actually do anything bc people can still sue for defamation - however, that's extremely rare bc the First Amendment protects most portrayals of real people, and under American defamation law, you have to prove they knowingly and maliciously defamed you for it to count
However, between 1915 and 1952 movies didn't actually have First Amendment protections, since the Supreme Court decided they were strictly "business" in 1915 (actually the 1915 case seems convinced that freedom of speech only existed for a free press and also says theater doesn't count) and then overturned that in 1952. That's why the Hays Code existed, the industry created it to forestall government censorship that would've been possible at the time. So I guess the disclaimer was more necessary then
As I understand it, books are given much more leeway. I know they are in terms of brands, something else people mentioned in the replies: for instance, Ready Player One the book was able to write in all those 80s pop culture characters freely while the movie had to pay for the rights. Except if they quote song lyrics, then they have to pay up the wazoo and their editors will yell at them
But I think also Victorian lit grounded itself in reality a lot more. Like how fantastical stories of the time are often framed as "found" narratives - people were just less willing to buy in to something completely fictional. Unless I'm wrong and they weren't
Love the random censorship in Victorian novels. Mr. ------- came down from -----shire in the summer of 18--. Who? Where? When? Wouldn't you like to know, book boy
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I don't know if this has already been asked before but has Stcmo Ford ever had to intervene in a world where Stanley took the journel(where that world's Ford wasn't sent through the portal) and planned for it to be the last thing he'd ever do before dying?
As he was trudging through the snow back to his car, Stan couldn't help but hear Ford's words play on an endless loop in his head, drowning out everything else. Stan had wanted so badly to shove the journal back at Ford after his brother had branded him, but he couldn't. Ford was right, he was always right.
So he kept the fucking diary and stormed out.
Ford didn't follow, so Stan must've said something about giving in to his brother's will before leaving, but he couldn't remember what had come out of his mouth. His head was swimming in a nauseating way as his shoulder screamed at him, his body shook violently with every gust of wind.
He already knew that he wasn't going far. He just needed to get to the car, then he'd burn the stupid fucking journal and drive himself off the nearest cliff. He was tired. So very tired and hungry and cold. He had dropped everything just to come when his brother called, hoping against all hope that maybe they could finally talk.
He should know better than to entertain hope by now.
He didn't even realize someone was in front of him until he literally ran into them, stumbling back with a curse as he clutched his arm, a new burst of pain surging through his shoulder. He blinked the black spots out of his vision, squinting at the weirdo who was wearing a flashy all-black getup in the middle of a blizzard.
He would've noticed that something was off sooner if he hadn't been so worn down.
But, as it stood, he heard a sharp twang before a bolt was rushing past his ear from behind. Stan stiffened, adrenaline flooding his body when Ford yelled at him, ordering him to run to his car and get out of town as fast as he could.
He took a total of three stumbling steps toward his car before an arm was curling around his throat, getting him into a firm headlock. The stranger wasn't choking him though, so small mercies. Actually, it seemed like the guy was actively avoiding his brand, which was weird because why would that matter if he was gonna take Stan hostage anyway?
Stan tried to hold on to the journal, he really did, but the asshole pulled it away from his icy fingers with ease. Stan choked on what might've been a sob, devastated that he had failed the one task that he'd been given. How did he manage to keep fucking everything up so spectacularly? He should've never been born.
"Stanley!" Ford shouted with no small amount of distress, clearly upset about his journal falling into the wrong hands on his front lawn. Stan couldn't look at him, couldn't bare to see the disappointment and anger that were surely coloring Ford's face right now.
"You can either have the journal or your brother." The stranger's voice carried over the howling wind, Stan's wide eyes darting to the book in the man's other hand with a sinking feeling in his gut. Stan already knew what Ford would pick, he had proved time and time again that he cared about his research more than he loved his brother.
"Let him go!" Ford seethed, the anger far more familiar to Stan, who finally braved a look at his brother. Ford was surprisingly close, only a few feet away with his crossbow loaded and aimed at the stranger. His expression was a mixture of terror and fury, his bloodshot eyes darting from Stan to the stranger several times.
He didn't look at the journal once.
"Is that your choice?" The stranger asked, the arm around Stan's neck slowly tightening, Stan's hands frantically prying at the dark fabric and flexing muscle with a pitiful wheeze that had Ford making an aborted movement toward him.
"Yes! Yes! I choose him!" Ford's voice cracked, face crumpling like he was about to burst into tears. Stan grit his teeth and swung his elbow down to bury it into the man's kidney, the grip on his neck loosening just enough that Stan could twist and punch the asshole right in the chest, knocking the wind out of him.
Stan lunged for the journal, wrenching it from the man's grip as he kicked the bastard's knee, hearing the joint pop out of place. The guy grunted in pain as he went down, Stan scrambling toward his brother, who had lurched forward to meet him. Stan couldn't see what was happening, but he heard another bolt fire and then Ford was dropping the weapon to grab at Stan.
"He's gone! He's gone! He left!" Ford gasped as he dragged Stan to his feet, using his body as a crutch to keep Stan upright as the two of them unsteadily made their way back to the shack. Stan's legs gave out on him as soon as they were inside, Ford slamming and locking the door behind them with an urgency that bordered on manic.
"Ford..." Stan panted, slumped against the wall, and Ford was beside him in the blink of an eye.
"What? What is it? Did he hurt you?" Ford asked in rapid-fire, shaking hands fluttering over his body. Stan caught one, Ford flinching at how cold Stan's hand was.
"I... the journal... I got it back." Stan said breathlessly, weakly raising his other hand to offer it to Ford, who looked stunned as he stared at it. Maybe he didn't think Stan would bother to grab it? Just how little did Ford trust him?
It was Stan's turn to be speechless when Ford took the journal from him and carelessly set it aside before he was back to fussing over Stan, who was too busy blinking dumbly to stop Ford from accidentally touching the brand while searching for wounds.
Stan cried out, hunching on on himself as Ford profusely apologized, scurrying away after assuring Stan that he'd be back with his first aid kit. Stan kept his head down as he nodded, teeth grit against the pain. He was used to waiting. Waiting for the millions to miraculously come pouring in, waiting for Ford to reach out first, waiting for his next meal, waiting for those rough hands to stop touching him.
Always waiting.
He heard Ford making a racket further in the house and decided that he could wait just a little longer.
#gravity falls#side quest#somebody to call my own au#ford pines#stan pines#stan and ford#stan twins#writing#ask box
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MASM SUN… YOU RUINED ME THIS EPISOde
okay you know what, I know nothing about masm so you can prove me wrong on anything I say, this is JUST based off todays episode.
I FEEL SO BAD FOR MOON NOW. But I’m not too disappointed about the whole thing, because that’s Sun’s choice. But it was so obvious how Moon was trying to prove his love for the first multiple minutes and Sun was STILL in denial. Like I get it- okay, yeah, he bullies you and hits you a lot, ok. I HAVE PERSONALLY NEVER BEEN IN LOVE SO. I can understand Sun’s perspective. And I don’t know what to think about Freddy’s advice… I don’t think Moon should continue to express his love by… well, hurting Sun.
Im glad that Moon confessed. But after all Sun had been through with him, he was just totally in denial, basically just trying to come up with excuses to prove to himself, and/or Moon, that he WASN’T truly in love, although he insisted. I can’t blame Sun, but I felt like Moon should’ve at least been believed the first/second time he confessed. He shouldn’t have to prove he’s in love with Sun if he really is. But I get Sun’s denial- I mean, Moon isn’t really the nicest to him, and him actually going and confessing after all that’s happened would definitely seem a bit suspicious.
Sun wanting to stay friends with Moon is valid. I’m guessing he’s mostly just wanting nothing more chaotic than what’s already happening- being that confession (or at least, he’s a bit stunned). But Sun believed what Freddy said- he really was in love, and had been for a while. Sun probably felt a little uncomfortable by the whole experience, seeing how the love is one-sided. “There’s nothing wrong with that, we’re still friends”; from what I can put together, he’s fine and has finally accepted the fact that Moon really is in love. I don’t think he wants to take their relationship any further than it is though. He doesn’t necessarily or intentionally try to make Moon sad, even if his INITIAL words are totally rude. I don’t think Sun understands Moon’s attempts at showing affection/love in the episode.
Sun totally has a fair reason for not liking Moon back, but I feel like he could have handled the situation (and his wording) in a better way than he did. I feel bad for Moon since he’s new to romance, I’m sure they both are. I hope Moon is nicer from now on though- I never expected to see this side of him that we saw in this episode.
#masm#masm sun#masm moon#masm tsbs#tsbs#rambling#idk#fnaf dca#fnaf sb#the sun and moon show#sorry if this makes no sense#that’s just from my observations of the episode#plus I know nothing about romance-
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So a common headcanon/theory I’ve seen floating around is that when Okarun shifts into his yokai form, the personality shift he undergoes is representative of a “truer” inner self. I can see the line of logic that led to this, but the more thought I’ve put into it, the less I’ve agreed with the premise. And I’ve put so much thought into it at this point that it’s had to become its own whole post separated from the analysis it was originally a part of, so strap in.
Disclaimer: if this is your personal headcanon, I’m not here to try to prove you wrong or make you change your mind, I’m more so discussing this from the theory side of things and what I think will happen as the manga continues. Also slight manga spoilers for up to chapter 172 !!
So as the theory goes, the personality that comes out when Okarun’s transformed is a more genuine version of himself, where his yokai form removes his anxieties and allows him to act more confidently and openly show the depression and pessimism that’s lived in him the whole time. On a surface level this tracks, as being in this form does make him more confident, blunt, and he completely drops the formal way he speaks to people, going so far as to adopt a cute nickname for Momo.
I don’t think this fully makes sense for a number of reasons, though. Firstly is that throughout all 175 chapters that are currently out, I can’t recall any moments where Okarun ever acts in a way that would hint at his real inner workings reflecting the personality and behavior that come out when he is transformed. I could have missed something, of course, but when so much of Momo and Okarun’s relationship is built on them being their genuine selves around the other (more on that in this great video I saw), I’m inclined to believe that there isn’t going to be another shoe to drop nearly 200 chapters in.
To explain my other reasoning, I’m going to have to go into a little bit of a side tangent about Aira, and first I want to establish why I think comparing Okarun to her in this instance makes sense. So up until the cursed diorama arc, the only character that really has comparable yokai related powers to Okarun is Aira. They acquire these powers in different ways, and Seiko says Okarun has Turbo Granny’s “spiritual power”, whereas Acro-Silky says she gave Aira her “aura.” Given the contexts of the scenes these are said in I would assume they are meant to be two different concepts, however it’s not ever explicitly stated or shown how the difference there affects them or their yokai abilities, so I am treating them as functionally the same thing for this analysis. Regardless, the similarity between them seems to be that in one way or another, they have been left with the spiritual energy of their respective yokai, which allows them to transform in very similar ways. Their transformations affect them both physically in making them taller and stronger, as well as their personalities, with Okraun becoming less formal overall, and Aira becoming more formal in the way she addresses people.
Even though they are affected by their transformations in very similar ways, I haven’t seen any kind of headcanon or theory that the way Aira behaves while transformed is how she truly is or feels, which makes perfect sense considering her first character arc. From when she’s introduced, she’s shown to have a dynamic with Momo, Okarun, and her other peers at school, where even before she’s able to use Acro-Silky’s abilities, she’s pretty two faced. In chapter 51, Momo even says, “There’s our Aira!” when she and Okarun pull Aira away from her class and she immediately shifts to her more snarky attitude towards Momo. The manga makes it quite clear that the way she acts at school, and on occasion towards Okarun, is an act, and that her genuine personality is a little nasty and rude (which she is loved for! By other characters and audience members of taste). And with that established, of course no one put that much emphasis on how her behavior changes when she’s using Acro-Silky’s powers. She’s still the same person, her mannerisms and the way she speaks are just altered slightly, which is also pretty much how I feel about Okarun’s yokai form.
That being said, I don’t want to fully dismiss that the shifted personality could mean something, and in fact I wouldn’t be surprised if Okarun did still have some repressed feelings and pessimism from his time growing up without any friends, but at the current point in the story I’m not sure if I could see that being shown explicitly tied to his yokai form. As of chapter 165, Okarun gets his final ball back, and as per his end of the deal, he returned Turbo Granny’s spiritual power to her, and she left with them and hasn’t made an appearance since. Okarun no longer has access to his yokai form, but at this point he’s surrounded by friends, he’s confessed his feelings to Momo, and he’s even grown physically strong enough to hold his own in a fight without any powers. As far as what we’ve been shown, Okarun has developed and his life has changed so much that he doesn’t really have any of those reasons to be a pessimistic downer that he had before the events of the series. Not to say he has no reasons to be sad, of course, we still haven’t been given even a hint of what his family and home life is like, and I expect something will happen with that eventually. But with where the story has gone so far, I don’t see this theory being true or narratively compelling.
TLDR: There’s not much evidence going for this theory, and several things against it, so I personally don’t see it going anywhere in the canon series. The way Okarun acts and the feelings he expresses in his yokai form could still potentially mean something, so I won't completely dismiss it, but with where the story is currently I don’t think this theory being true would add much or be a compelling element of the plot.
#dandadan#okarun#ken takakura#momo ayase#aira shiratori#dandadan manga#dandadan spoilers#dandadan manga spoilers#dandadan analysis#cubed analysis
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I love having friends. I love people. I was alone for so long. and now. I have friends. I love them all. they love me too. eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee heart so full eeeeeeee
#i went from having 2 close (albeit now long distance) friends whom i loved (and continue to) cherish#but now#NOW#I've got like#at LEAST 8 people#whom i can call friends#and i couldnt be happier#i seriously thought i was going to drift my way through uni and make little to no connections#but it seems as though i have been proved wrong#AND MY MUTUALS I LOVE YOU TOO SM MWAH MWAH
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PI prof just sent me a grant application thing that I should fill out bc undergrad in research! It me! and I’ve already been doing a ton of writing for the actual paper but this makes it real like really real outside of the safe bubble of the lab and given the lab will be closed over next summer (probably) I gotta start figuring out what I’ll be doing bc I want to do research. Might be kind of freaking out a ton.
on the upside, multivariable prof is a wicked fast grader and I did better than I assumed (still not good but passable) so that’s nice :)
#so the entirety of this week has been not great for my heart rate or chillness#pretty sure my bradycardia no longer exists anymore#But the lab thing is just. Scary. Like idk#I’m not doing research on a topic I picked out per se#Instead I’m just fully fleshing out one that got abandoned when the lab was on hiatus#I have no ducking clue where we currently get funding; our department recently got a ton of new stuff and ik we have everything we need#Also I’m currently the only undergrad in that lab#I keep hearing that people wanna join! From other department people But then they don’t which sorta sucks even if idk them#Even tho prof PI mentions it it sorta dies off#I’ll likely be doing all the writing with pi prof saying she’d look over for things to improve#But when I joined the lab my singular motivation was to like just help out bc I’m bad at making big decisions#And so I figured prof/grad student mentioned on (out of date apparently) site would be main person#And now I’m scared shitless#Prof PI genuinely seems to think I can do this and even though I don’t wanna prove her wrong I’m terrified I might#os2.txt#lab notes
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𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 · 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦
contents: smut. minors dni 18+. reader wears a nightgown to subtly get the message across. attempt at seduction. lots of teasing and kissing. first time with him. size difference. fingering. borderline overstimulation. vaginal penetration. mostly sweet lovemaking but implications of leading to rougher sex. sylus has a huge dick (he is standing at 6’2 after all). 2.9k wc.
꒰ note ᰔ based off of this arranged marriage sylus x wife!reader post but can be read as a standalone. smut writing is never one of my strengths but I had fun with this one!! and I can only hope it’s an enjoyable read to those who were anticipating a sequel 🤍꒱
“Doing a little late night reading?” Sylus glances at your form through his peripheral as you enter his bedroom with a light skip in your steps. He’s perched at the end of his bed with a high profile report in hand, and with a tilt of your head and prying eyes you hover over the document between his fingers as you stand before him. You skim through a few lines before he tosses it aside, murmuring that it’s nothing of importance when something more interesting happens to catch his attention and you feel the heat of his gaze doing you a once-over.
Your cheeks warm and you feel a tad shyness wash over you when he quietly appraises your body clad in a gorgeous silk slip with lace embellishments. He hums in appreciation, a slow smirk curling on his lips before he reaches out to grasp your waist and pull you forward onto his lap. He secures one arm around you to keep you in place and his thumb sweeps over the delicate sleepwear and the bare skin of your thigh in a soft, languid motion. “You’ll catch a cold in just your nightgown, kitten. Or did you wear it for me?”
“Maybe I just wanted to change into something a little more comfortable.” You respond with a coy smile and playful shrug of your shoulder which causes the thin strap to fall from just a whisper of movement. He enjoys your little display and act of innocence if this is your way of telling him that you want to deepen the relationship through shared intimacy like normal marital couples do during this time of night. And truthfully, he’s been waiting far too long for this moment to come but he didn’t expect you to offer yourself on a silver platter. What a sweet and precious wife you are.
“I’m sure you could find something more suitable than a flimsy nightgown.” His knuckles brush up along your arm and hooks the fallen strap around his finger to slide it back into its proper place. “But then, perhaps you wanted to tease me, too?”
You click your tongue in disappointment. No matter what you do he was always two steps ahead of you—it’s thoughtful yet infuriating especially when you want him to act more surprised. “Nothing ever gets passed by you, it seems.”
His large hand slips under the lace trimmings of your nightgown and moves closest to your backside for a firm squeeze. “You should know by now how badly I want you, sweetheart. And with you sitting in my lap, looking breathtaking like that. I’m tempted to just rip this little thing off of you.”
You purse your lips into a small pout that’s adorable to him and grunt in disapproval. “What if this night dress is one of my favorites? Don’t I get a say in what you can and can’t tear?”
He arches a brow as though to challenge you by putting the theory into practice. You keep forgetting that he could read you like an open book, and he loves nothing more than proving you wrong at every chance. “Are you saying you wouldn’t enjoy it if I did? I’ll buy you new ones. Better ones.”
You mull over at the thought. “Sounds troublesome. I’ll have to keep making these frequent shopping trips.”
“I just mean the nightgown is in the way of me seeing all of you. You’re more than welcome to wear it any other time, but right now… I want it off.”
“Well, it’s only fair you make the next move.” He groans lowly when you shift your weight in his lap and rest your head against him. You drag your manicured finger down his chest and gently flick at the silver chain looped between his collar. “I did come all this way just for you.”
He understood your meaning and leans down close enough so his warm breath fans over your lips when he tilts your chin to look at him. “If you want me to take off my clothes, you’ll have to undress me yourself.” The soft spoken words in his deep voice send a tingle to the back of your brain, and the lingering kiss he places on the corner of your mouth adds a fluttering sensation in your stomach.
“Still making me work for it? And here I thought I would be cherished and wouldn’t even need to lift a finger.” You bring yourself upright and shove him down onto the bed to climb over him and straddle him. He gives you a knowing smirk at the sound of your cute gasp when you feel just how hard he is for you against your clothed cunt. You make quick work of undoing the underlay of buttons tucked beneath the thick fabric of his tailored dress shirt and remove it entirely to reveal every bit of lean muscle. His build akin to that of a spectacularly sculpted marble statue down to the details of his veins on his strong arms.
“Making you work for it is half the fun, kitten. But just remember who will be putting in the most work tonight.” His hand wanders up your thigh again and moves along the curve of your waist, the expensive silk bunches under his touch and he gropes the fullness of your breast. You feel the strap loosen around your shoulder once more. “Are you liking what you’re seeing? You’re allowed to mark what’s yours, you know. But I’d like to be able to mark you as mine too, wife.” His hungry eyes slowly roam over your matching panties and midriff before he returns your gaze.
Your smaller hand covers his knuckles meanwhile his thumb brushes across your nipple and he revels in the feeling of the bud hardening over the material. “You’re just always so straightforward, aren’t you?” You sensually wrap your finger around the other strap that’s perfectly intact and at your cue Sylus glides his hand down to the small of your back and watches as the dress cascades down to your midsection.
“And you’re so beautiful.” You’re a heavenly sight to behold with the way his amorous stare commits your very existence to his memory, particularly the swell of your lovely breasts that’s heavy with lust and begging for more of his attention. He gently reaches for your wrist and his fingers smooth under your palm to bring your hand up to his face. His thumb runs over the wedding band that binds you to him laying a light kiss against your knuckles, then places your hand over his shoulder waiting for your next move.
You don’t waste another second closing the distance between you two and crash your lips against his for a needy and desperate kiss. Your fingers tangle into his silver locks and your heat grinds against him hoping for some semblance of relief from the ache that’s building inside you. You feel him envelop your breasts fully with each caress and tender squeeze and a little bit of nipple play.
Sylus tastes faintly of sweet, tannic notes from the lingering aftertaste of red wine as your tongue meets his through parted lips. His arms and hands alternate between hugging your body and grip tightening on your hips, bucking himself up into your heat. You feel yourself needing more, wanting more and being closer to him so you hurriedly unbuckle his belt and suddenly the sound of fabric tearing reaches your ears.
You muffle in surprise against his lips and push him back just enough to see him wearing a smug expression. “I should’ve known you’d go against my wishes.” You scoff in disbelief and yet there’s a grin playing across your features that betrays your earlier words. You hate to admit he was right from the start—that you’d find the ripping more attractive instead of being carefully unwrapped like you both have all the patience in the world.
Sylus discards the now ruined piece of clothing aside. He lifts you with ease and your back embraces the cool sheets when he drops you down on the mattress and returns to his full height. “I was never one to follow rules. Besides, you look perfect like this.” You support yourself up on your elbows to follow his movements, and any smart comeback you have dies in your throat when he picks up where you left off by unfastening his belt and stripping out of his trousers. His boxer briefs follow suit and he thinks it’s adorable how you look mesmerized from this performance alone.
Your eyes settle on his huge cock. Almost gawking at it and you unconsciously clench your thighs together. It’s perfectly proportioned to the rest of him—long and notably thicker with an upward center curve and a few prominent veins here and there. He flushes a pretty shade of red that’s gradient from the head down and his pubes are neatly trimmed.
“You don’t have to look so scared, kitten.” He rasps an amused chuckle, and he feels you tense slightly when his hand scales up along your knee to your inner thigh and he dips his fingers between your legs. “I’ll take my time with you so you can handle me.”
Your breath hitches when he feels how drenched you are through your panties. He offers a gratified hum, his handsome face and broad shoulders become your main focus as he closes in on you. “Spread your legs wider.” He murmurs into your ear, and as soon as you give him more access he delves into your mouth for a bruising kiss and chases you down onto the bed. His ministrations on your clit feel absolutely sinful yet so wonderful and your arm wrap around his back meanwhile your hand explores the muscled panels of his upper body and the areas that are within your reach.
A string of saliva connects you both then disappears as your lips come apart. But he doesn’t stray far when the exquisite look on your face is a breath away and he pulls your panties aside to collect your arousal with two digits sliding through your puffy folds. Your lustful sounds escape in a warm exhale as soon as he slowly inserts his thick fingers into your tight pussy, and you’re quite the vision arching your back so tastefully.
“Mmh, that f-feels so good, Sylus.” Your eyes glaze over when he steadily pumps in and out of you, curling so deliciously at your sweet spot and he marvels at the way your cunt is greedily sucking in his fingers. There’s nothing else like him, the way he stretches you and reaches the deeper parts and hits the bits you can’t yourself. He adores the breathless sighs and mewls of his name when he pushes you to the edge even more while kissing you senselessly.
“You sound beautiful. I love the way my name tastes on your lips.” You can feel him smirk against you, but you’re too immersed in your pleasure to respond in words that aren’t broken syllables. He trails open-mouth kisses down to your jawline and along the column of your neck, grazing his teeth and softly sucking on your skin until hues of velvet purple form. Your head burrows into the soft cushion of the mattress, hips squirming as your hand clutches onto his forearm from tension coiling inside you.
“M’gonna come soon, Sy—!” Your pretty moans and pants grow heavier each second, and he loves feeling your body quiver when you’re pressed under him. He’s still knuckles deep inside you with every intention of bringing you up to heaven and back down to him. After all, he doesn’t believe in doing things halfway but can’t pass an opportunity to tease his darling wife.
“You’re getting so close already? I barely got started with you, sweetie.” He chuckles lowly yet his cock twitches as precum oozes and leaks down from the slit of his tip. “Don’t hold it in now. Let go and come for me.”
He’s met with your gorgeous o-face when the euphoric bliss courses through your entire body as your walls tighten around his fingers. Your moans turn into squeals and you try to shove his hand away to soften your orgasm but he doesn’t budge from being much stronger than you. The feeling is more than you can handle when your thighs clamp together to stop his movements. But you don’t want the addictive sensation to leave just yet when he borderline overstimulates you, turning you into a trembling and writhing mess.
You barely have a moment to catch your breath when a chortle escapes you from watching him bring his fingers coated in your cum to his mouth for a curious taste. “Mm. Sweet, just as I thought. You did great, kitten.” He leans down to plant a chaste kiss on your forehead, and the first wave of your drawn-out release slowly ebbs away. “Don’t you think you deserve one more?” Sylus pulls your soaked panties down your legs and casts them aside, leaving you completely bare under his gaze.
“I should hope so. Been wanting for you to stuff me with your fat cock tonight.” You’re still a little breathless when your finger glides down his toned chest in a sensual and playful manner. He makes a content hum at the sound of that with an upward quirk of his lips.
“What a bold and resilient wife I have on my hands. As long as I have you, I’ll never be bored again.” He gladly hoists your leg to wrap around his waist and spits down, giving himself a few strokes making it slick before aligning himself to your dripping cunt. His precum mixes with the remnants of your previous climax with the heavy drag of his tip from your opening up along your clit. He revels in the way your body responds with a little spasm. “I won’t have you going back on your words now.”
The flutter of your lashes steers away from his deep and enigmatic eyes, a nervous gnaw of your lower lips as you anticipate the painful stretch from taking him. “Go slow, okay? Because you know…” He knew you were implying about his sheer size, and you feel him grab hold of your hand and press your interlaced hand against the bed beside your head.
He captures your swollen lips that feel entirely too sweet and intimate, replacing your worries with a gentle tangle of his encompassing love and adoration that seeps into your soul. “I wouldn’t dream about hurting you. That’s a promise. But you have to let me in first.” Your breath hitches when his aching tip probes your entrance, yet the tension doesn’t leave your body until he tells you to focus on him with the exchange of kisses laced with a growing insistence. “You’ll let me know if it hurts, kitten? I want to make you feel good.”
With that said, your sharp nails dig into his shoulder blade and draw red lines at the burning stretch that feels too much yet so good at the same time. Your soft sighs and whimpers fill the hazy room and he’s fucking you slowly with just the tip to help ease the initial discomfort. He searches your face every now and again making sure you’re okay before he continues, letting out a guttural moan when he slips in a little more with each thrust until he carves his way into you completely.
“You’re in too deep—hah. Feel so full and good.” You shudder when he stills his movements, throbbing cock nestled inside you to the hilt and kissing your cervix. There’s a carnal desire brewing in his stomach seeing you pinned under his weight keeping him nice and warm. He wouldn’t mind spending the entire night with you, any plans and commitments he had prior be damned the moment you swayed in through the double doors. “Want you to m-move, please.”
The sound of your polite begging makes him twitch involuntarily, and he could only imagine what desperate pleas you have in store for him tonight and he’s looking forward to it. When your pretty lips implore him to fuck you faster and harder he won’t be able to hold back. After all, he has always been ready and waiting to give himself to you that aligns with your willingness to accept him. There is no love purer than his, this craving he has reserved only for you. “You know you only have to ask, and I’ll give you everything you want. Just be careful what you wish for, sweetie.”
Sylus chuckles at your cute whine shortly after—such a needy little thing you are. He falls into a sweet and slow rhythm that makes you feel each thrust, the head of his dick down to its shape and following the shaft that caresses the underside of your pleasure endings so incredibly good. Your legs wrap around his back and you pull him in deeper because close just isn’t close enough for you. You need to feel the heat of his body sear against your skin as you hold him, and in turn you feel him squeeze your interlaced hand. “Tonight, you’re all mine. Forget anyone else in the world but me.”
#ᨳ ₊˚ 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐩.𝐰��𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬#sylus#sylus x reader#sylus smut#l&ds x reader#love and deepspace x reader#sylus love and deepspace#lnds sylus#sylus lnd#sylus l&ds#lads sylus#l&ds sylus#love and deepspace
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(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧
Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡
cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago.
A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch.
“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you.
“I wanna see Max.”
“She has to be here somewhere.”
That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest.
Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here.
Steve frowns at you worriedly.
“Who died?” asks a new voice.
You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers.
“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips.
“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”
“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes.
“Is it awful?” you ask.
“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult.
“Who’s throwing up?” you ask.
“Dustin. He’s outside.”
Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.”
He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes.
“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.
You school your impression. “Like what?”
“Like you like him.”
You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?”
She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?”
“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings.
“Looks like something. Are you dating?”
“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.”
“He was touching you a lot.”
“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely.
“Ew,” Max says with a laugh.
“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s—
“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder.
You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug.
“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly.
Oh, boy, you think.
As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.
From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it���s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy.
Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet.
“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.”
“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.
“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.”
“Steve.”
“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.”
“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty.
“What?” he asks.
His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles
You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.”
“Are you okay?”
“What?”
“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.”
“I sounded weird?”
“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.”
You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it.
“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do.
“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.”
Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice.
“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.”
You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something.
After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie?
“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged.
You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews.
“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way.
He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused.
“You were in the way of the light.”
“That what it was?”
“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself.
“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?”
Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks.
“It’s good.”
“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.”
He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you.
Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise!
You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this.
You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing.
He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs.
You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes.
“You okay?” he whispers.
You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek.
Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.
The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen.
A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say.
“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.
“I really like you, Steve.”
He stares at you. “…But?”
“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.”
“I thought…” And of course he did.
“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.”
He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.”
“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes.
“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious.
“Yeah.”
Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.”
“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”
“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.”
“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.”
“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks.
“I like you too!” he says loudly.
A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?”
You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again.
“You okay?” he asks tightly.
“I’m sorry.”
He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?”
You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.”
He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?”
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?”
You nod vehemently.
Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”
—♡—
The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm.
A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.
“I think I might melt.”
“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you.
“You can be my parasol.”
“Your what?”
“It’s a sun umbrella.”
“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up.
You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.
He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.”
If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay.
“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur.
He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?”
“That’s perfect.”
“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly.
“No… I’m thinking.”
“Nothing good ever comes of that.”
“I have something I want to talk to you about.”
“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth.
You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight.
“It’s a question.”
He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world.
“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.”
“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”
He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.”
“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.”
His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start.
“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem.
“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur.
His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it.
You tip your head aside to catch your breath.
“Better late than never,” you joke.
Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.”
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#stranger things#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x fem#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington drabble
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do you believe me now?
in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)
series masterlist
18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!
“You’re so pretty.”
It’s the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossi’s extravagant soirées. It was your first of many, if Spencer’s entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford don’t sound half bad—but for now you’re drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencer’s lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues.
“I mean—you always look beautiful. But I’ve never seen you all done up. You’re obscenely gorgeous.”
You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencer’s collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and he’ll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong.
His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. “Why don’t you believe me?”
“…I do.”
It’s unconvincing. Spencer scoffs.
“No, you don’t. You never believe me when I compliment you.”
The cadence of his voice is light enough, but it’s evident that there’s some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface.
Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.”
Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.
“You being polite isn’t what I’m concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. You’d know if I didn’t. I’m a terrible liar.”
That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like he’s trying to bottle the sound, the memory—and you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more.
“I’m a woman, Spencer. I’m not allowed to like myself. That’s the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.”
“Are you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know I’m the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks you’re beautiful and wonderful.”
Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment.
“You’re killing me here, Spencer.”
“What can I do to do to make you believe me?” he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable.
“It’s not your fight.” It’s meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness.
“If it’s yours, it’s mine. That’s kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?”
His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak.
“Well, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.”
A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you.
“Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m asking what you’d be comfortable with.”
“Whoa!” you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. “Where did that come from?”
He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. “I lose my filter when I'm tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like he’d graze it if your hand wasn’t weighing his down.
“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just… surprised me. I’m really bad at talking about this kind of thing.”
“Sex?”
You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. “AH! Don’t say it!”
He laughs again, a little less reserved this time.
“What? You can’t even listen to me say the word?”
“No! Too scary!”
Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder.
“Come here,” he says—a request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, “you’re not scared of me, are you?”
“No!” You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. “No, it’s not you. You’re perfect and I’m sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”
“That’s impossible.”
Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “You don’t know that.”
His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could.
“I know that I really, really like you. And there’s not one part of you that I don’t find genuinely beautiful. I can’t imagine not feeling that way about you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against him—a non-answer, but he doesn’t push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. “Do you want me to take you home?” He finally asks after a long while. Again, you don’t respond. He smiles. “I know you’re awake.”
The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs.
“I guess if you’re already asleep you’ll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if you’d sleepwalk to my bed so that I don’t have to carry you.”
When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. “Would you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?” You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencer’s shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips.
“I sleep with my eyes open.”
“Do you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?”
You shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”
“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, finally standing himself. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress?”
“I have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.”
“Then we’ll get you a shirt.”
———————————————
Ten minutes later you’re in Spencer’s bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully he’s telling the truth—you can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrush—you use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade.
Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt.
“Fits like a dream,” you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and it’s like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin.
“…what?” you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing he’d said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, you’re just you, and maybe that’s not good enough.
“Uh…” He blinks, as if he’s buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. “It’s—it’s nothing. Do you, um—here, I tried to make it—“
“Stop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.”
Another pause—he looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh.
“I did not get all weird.”
“Yes, you did. You’re still being weird. It’s freaking me out.”
He’s utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, “come here.” This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. “I know you think I’ve finally decided you’re hideously deformed, but it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.”
Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” he agrees quietly. “Do you believe me now?”
And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heart—your body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles.
“Now you’re getting brave?”
“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders.
“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”
The words make you shiver—the lowered, gravelly tone of his voice you’ve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you don’t stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with you—he, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now he’s on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements.
“What are you doing?” he asks, firmly, but not like you’re in trouble—it’s a probing question. He’s trying to figure out if you’re aware of the way you’re nearly riding his leg.
“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly.
“You just told me you couldn’t even listen to me say the word sex,” Spencer reminds you. “You said it was too scary.”
A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs.
“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured since then.”
“Is that what happened?” he teases.
“Honestly, I’m just really turned on right now, please—" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents.
Almost.
“Slow down.”
He ceases kissing you for a second time and you’re starting to really get annoyed.
“What?” you groan. “I thought you wanted this.”
His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention.
“I want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you don’t like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking you to think about it for a second.”
You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. You’re not scared, like you thought you’d be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him.
Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm.
“This is what I want,” you assert. “I promise.”
His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean it—and he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him.
“Okay.”
A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before he’s kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until you’re so distracted that you can’t kiss him back.
Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. “Hips up.”
Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them.
“Eyes up here,” you try to joke, but it’s steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again.
“But you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, before he’s kissing you again. “Just like I knew you would be.”
You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, and—
“Tell me one more time, sweetheart.”
Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. “Please, Spencer?”
It works for him.
When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good.
Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone else’s hand between your legs.
“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against your lips.
“Mhm,” you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencer’s voice.
“You’re sensitive, huh?”
“S—sometimes.”
He hums contemplatively.
“Sometimes? Can you tell me about that?”
You can’t hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like you’re something delicate. It’s torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum.
“About what?”
“I want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.” The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn your first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine.
The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.
“You.”
“Yeah?” he smiles. “Good answer.”
Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. You’d felt so much shame every time you’d imagined him in your bed late at night.
“Really?”
“Really. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.” As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you don’t know what to do with the hand that’s not gripping the duvet. “Do you only touch here?” His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. “Or do you touch here, too?”
You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place you’ve never really bothered to explore. “Never feels good when I try.”
“We’re gonna make it feel good, okay?”
You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again.
His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what he’s doing until he does it. It’s a foreign sensation—not entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe you’re broken just as you thought—until you feel a slight stretch and you realize he’s pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, “deep breaths,” into your ear. “I know it’s new, honey, just breathe.”
“Fuck,” you whimper as you look down, and you didn’t realize you were going to say it until it’s already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legs—the tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motion—arouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. It’s like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you.
A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than you’ve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than you’d of thought—suddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away.
“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet.
“Yeah, there we go.” His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, he’s transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavier—it’s a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencer’s eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes.
“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his fingers begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Of course not. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, huh?”
“Uh-huh,” you nod. You’d do just about anything for him right at this second. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it.
“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”
But it’s really not too much. It’s exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you can’t exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message.
Hair falls over his face and he doesn’t fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldn’t want him to stop and fix his hair—what you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky.
“Look at you, my pretty girl. I’m so proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.”
It’s the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. It’s the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheets—and then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. It’s nirvana. It’s revelatory. It’s ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you haven’t been able to do it once even with very concerted effort.
Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isn’t absent for long—he runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh.
“That’s never… I’ve never done that before,” you admit, slurring your words only slightly.
His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile.
“You’ve never had an orgasm?” You nod. His head tilts. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”
“When would I have told you?” you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily.
“Well?” you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. “Did I do it right?”
Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck.
“Did you like it?”
“Yes,” you admit, voice smaller than you’d have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly.
“Then we both did it right.”
“But…” you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. “You know what I mean.”
“I do,” he agrees, “and I’ll say this because I know otherwise you’re going to worry about it forever.” He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like he’s trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. “You… are going to be, problematic, for me.”
Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. “What d’you mean?”
“I mean,” Spencer begins, voice low, “I think I liked that too much. Do you see why that’s troubling?”
The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, “no,” with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that you’re obviously playing coy.
“Because I can’t have you all the time.”
“Yes you can,” you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. “You can have me whenever you want. Right now.”
He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“Not tonight. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.”
“I’m wide awake,” you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids.
He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin.
“You’re shockingly precocious.”
You hum.
“You just unleashed the beast. You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”
He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. “And you’re a nerd.”
“I don’t need to take that from you of all people.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you.
He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you don’t know if he’s thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;
I love you
I love you
I love you.
-
part two
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid fic#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine
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lilith through the houses
hii, it has been a while since i have made a post on here; hope everyone is doing well. i wanted to dive into a post about lilith, i see a lot of people who are curious about lilith and how it manifests in their charts. lilith represents many things; rebellion, dark feminine, jealousy, envy, and sense of freedom/power.
lilith in 1st - blessing & a curse. you have a sultry-esque to you, can appear a bit intimidating and off-putting from some sort of intensity; unintentionally. you have habits to always appeal to other people, you have a need to feel approved by others and rejection has always been a hard concept for you. you might have been bullied from women who were jealous of you when you were younger, or often left out on purpose because you seemed "untrusting," people often would read you wrong because they were too afraid to approach you. luckily for you though, you can pick up on these things right away. you have gifts for discernment and are good at blending into your environments nowadays. you are much harder to crack while you age, and that is because you have worked on your confidence & beauty through time- nobody can get under your skin as much as you do.
lilith in 2nd - loves to feel different. you love doing things that go against the standards. while everyone else was stressing over financial issues, housing, and overall structure, you had other plans. you preferred to feel free-spirited with your spending, and always found a way to attract money whether you worked for it or not. others despised you, thought you had it easy, or thought you let yourself go. you have a tendency to let others go, not in a bad way, but in a way that if there's anything stopping you from obtaining something, you will cut ties. you hold onto things that can be used to prove others wrong, probably still clings to photos, messages, etc. hates giving up easily. points out hypocricy on others a lot. you typically hate any form of control over you, not a fan of commands or orders, dislikes an overly organized environment. you like feeling accompanied in your habits. you always play your cards well.
lilith in 3rd - says it how it is always. you notice people usually love you or hate you there's no in between. sometimes attracts people who are two-faced, or always downplaying their achievements. you will really see the ugly side from people because of the way you can easily trigger them. felt held back from a young age to express certain thoughts, always likes to interject, say the things that others do not want to. has a serious tone, usually sounding mature and easily believable. you love pushing the boundaries with society and taking the lead. you are one of one, and you might notice some people have humored you a lot because they don't take you serious enough. people usually never let your past go, or they want to have a say in your reputation. to you though, any attention is good attention.
lilith in 4th - family matters. usually mother or prominent female figure forcing you to follow a path you don't want to. lots of household turmoil's, probably the ones to break a generational trauma, feeling suffocated by family and close ones. you have a hard time with making long-lasting friends and relationships out of fear of being abused emotionally somehow. easy for you to feel drained by others, feels and moves better alone. might have family members who are jealous of you or leave you behind because they cannot stand to see you succeed. maybe you felt that you hadn't been caught up as much as other kids growing up, late learner & way too self-dependent. you are strong in the sense that you take care of yourself better than others have. your pain has taught you how to provide a safe space for other people.
lilith in 5th - felt like you had a lot of energy vampires around you, anytime you wanted to feel fun-spirited you always had some people trying to void that. you are actually very easygoing, attract attention very easily, and people really admire your fierceness. however you fall short depending on the people you surround yourself with. you need uplifting beings around you, those who match your energy very well. you can always decipher who fits for you and who doesn't. you have a tendency to push away your intuition and gut feelings, you like giving chances and the ability for people to restart with you, however you realize it is a waste of time. lot of people will cling to you to try and analyze you, study you. relationships or friendships have used you to try to get the upperhand. people steal your ideas. tired of feeling bad for being yourself. you hope to remain light hearted and unravel new interests that give you a chance to understand yourself a bit more.
lilith in 6th - usually gets bullied because they are healthier than others. i know that sounds kiddish, but im serious. you know how to work twice as hard to get to where you want to be, whether that is career wise or health wise. you experience a lot of significant changes with your appearance, and you will have people trying to tear you down and invalidate your efforts. can deal with people speaking badly about your body, wishing to have your body, or lusting over your body. can have jealous co workers, outside peers, or in general you will notice that as soon as you want to change, many people do not like this. people have this preset notion of you and hate to acknowledge that you are in a better position than you used to be. you like doing things on your own schedule, you are known to being very picky, but as long as it is convenient for you, you do not mind. you're not a heavy complainer, instead you observe a lot and make do with whatever you got.
lilith in 7th - dealt with narcissists a lot of your life, has a fainted image of love and relationships. you guys love to reject other people lol, rightfully so though, most of the time you guys will have people trying to spin back to you. you are unforgettable to the ones you have had close bonds with, specifically with the other gender. can lead to men/women hating you so they can try to get over you. you love being able to try new things in relationships, switching it up is super important to you, and you love a 50/50, good give and take. if someone is too simple with you or doesn't seem as risk take-y as you, you kind of repel that. you crave to be unconditionally loved by someone that loves you in the right conditions. loves speaking out on things you find abnormal. you don't have many standards, which is why you have a lot of experience with the dating realm; however you only feel safe to settle once you see the imperfections in your partner. you hate anything superficial. you feel you can only trust those who are as damaged as you are.
lilith in 8th - feelings of powerlessness, inability to change, or endless karmaic cycles. you have been through harsh times with your inner self, and it has depleted a lot of your confidence. you are naturally more "darker or deeper" than others, you like reading between the lines and that is your superpower. you pick up on the things that most people slip. you have a strong aura of sensual energy whenever you do come together with a partner. seductive and manipulative at times, if you feel that you do not get what you want, you have a way to really make shit break out. lot of internal chaos with trying to figure yourself out. you have a strong admiration for the occult, and it is very known off of you. people often feel jealous that you know more than them, or that you are with-holding information, or that your energy is the most magnetic thing about you. you want to be able to explore everything that nobody wants to. it brings you peace to look from within more than on the out.
lilith in 9th - felt that higher purpose was always a challenge to try to figure out, religiously could have dealt with a traumatizing incident, or felt disconnected. turned against morals at one point and never looked back really. hates feeling narrow-minded, opened to new possibilities, hates certainty because things are so variable. people jealous that you can etach easily, and that you can expand onto bigger and better things. could been troubled in school for minor or major things, free will is a thing you love to test a lot. could have a lot of enemies from different backgrounds and countries, feel easily attacked for thinking differently than others. you notice how your mentality is far more different than others; you tend to be more receptive and optimistic, while other people could be more sensitive and reserved to their own thoughts. you dislike people with the inability to be free thinking as you are. you have a hard time connecting with others because of this, you feel only you can truly understand yourself. you can get frustrated easily and silenced due to it.
lilith in 10th - could feel scrutinized by authority figures in their lives, you might have a father who is controlling or somebody who is a male figure that will try to steer you from your goals. you have tried to make a lot of jobs work, however none feel too important to you. sometimes you feel that work industry can even be useless, simply because it doesn't bring you the satisfaction you want. you can even feel afraid to tap into your power in front of others, maybe seen as too shy or timid to go after what you really want. you sought more attention to what others would think rather than what you think of yourself. attracts jealousy through their jobs and careers anyway, some people find you "too this, too that" to the things you want to accomplish. you put up many facades and fake smiles to people because you feel that a lot of what you do is on display or talked about anyway. people honestly really love to throw some confusion your way, or doubt. you might really like a career that is extremely perplexing or doesn't require much at all.
lilith in 11th - felt weird from everyone else. you learned a lot of harsh lessons when you were younger, matured fast and enjoyed life much later. socially, well liked and easily applauded by others, which means that you also do have folks who have been envious of your abilities to drive the masses. you are unique and set trends. people follow you around or follow you online just to keep up with your aesthetic, it is like you are a hidden gem that prefers to be hidden. you've probably dealt with people trying to get close to you to steal from you or get with your other friends or even partners. you are naturally independent and sometimes too isolating. the feeling of needing nobody can stem from the fact that not many people surrounded themselves with you when you were younger. you socially blend in very well and use it to your advantage, as a lot of people will behave like "kiss-asses" to you. might have also dealt with fallouts with friends that have blamed you regardless of if you were guilty or not. they switch-up just as easy as they befriend you. it is undoubtedly hard to connect with some others.
lilith in 12th - spiritually been at war with yourself for a while, felt like there wasn't a place for you to confide without being shunned. hard time making sense of feelings that actually are justified to feel. others expected you to be strong and to bottle up a lot of your feelings, there was a lack of fulfillment also in teenage years due to the isolation you have went through. felt like you weren't good enough to go through with your ideas, fantasies, and goals. some part of you feels resentment towards yourself, as you learned that you were so hard on yourself when all you needed was to just experience life for what it was. always searching for something deeper. prone to nightmares or visions that have made you cautious, traumatizing experiences that nobody knows about or that has happened that was hidden from you or forgotten. sometimes you feel you don't even know what you are fighting for. you have a unique ability to contact your spiritual guides, manifesting comes easy for you once you work on this burden. you can bring out such strong changes in yourself and are capable of ending your "hellish" loops. people can feel envious of you for your trauma, and i know that sounds off, but you have been through a lot and others will try to act like they understand or can relate when they in fact do not. beware of people who pretend to be in the same boat as you. some will secretly just not like you, plain and simple.
thank you for reading this all through, if i was accurate or off, let me know i would love to see some of your input. there's so much more i can say about each and if you want me to elaborate i will! i know i have put more for some of these and less for others, regardless, i am open to your inputs, thank u <3
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𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒!
(♡) - my personal favorites (🔞) - CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT
NEW BEGINNINGS - @ikeuverse (flirting with your brother's brother-in-law wasn't in your plans after returning from studying abroad. it wasn't something you were going to stop either since heeseung was the epitome of beauty. but when there's another woman's name in the story. what happens? you don't want to be caught between a betrayal… or so you thought.) (♡)
MARRY ME - @ikeuverse (ever since you met lee heeseung, he told you that the two of you were going to get married. all the time, at every opportunity, he reinforced it until one day, drunk, you accepted. was he dreaming or did it really happen? it wouldn't be so bad to fall for his jokes for once.)
TIDES OF REGRET - @pprodsuga (in the year since heeseung first rejected your love confession, you've tried everything to get over him. a trip to europe makes you realize you miss your former best friend more than anything, and it makes heeseung realize he's got it all wrong.) (♡)(🔞)
HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER - @i2sunric (your daughter asks heeseung to tell the greatest love story of all and he takes the chance to narrate how he met you, the love of his life.) (♡)
JUNE BLOSSOMS - @soobnny (synopsis. as the month of may ends, you wonder what june holds for you and heeseung (especially with no more need to fake date.)
LATE SUMMER LOVIN' - @4am-enha (you desperately want to spend your last summer here in town with your friends, only to find out almost all of them are away on vacation. that is, all of them but heeseung. the one friend you’d never really been that close with.)
BITE ME - @drunkhazed (“I’m kind of confused still.” You admit, anxiously shuffling to sit without making eye-contact. Heeseung chuckles plopping down by your side, arm slinging back over your shoulder to keep you pressed against him.)(🔞)
COFFEE & CREAM - @ham-st4r (one chilly night after a long work shift, you’re unfortunately forced to walk home. Cause you left your bag at work, half way through your journey you stumble across a homeless man who you naturally offer money to, and he though he refuses. You give it to him anyway, and down the road, you’ll find that those two dollars changed not only his life but yours as well.) (🔞)
IT'S CUPID, STUPID - @mygnolia (To hell with Lee Heeseung, you couldn't find someone you hated more than the boy who's by your side no matter what. You figured that maybe the summer before university would be the best way to finally let go of him, and to leave the hate you have in your childhood- but no. What do you mean you have to spend ALL summer with him?)
FUCK BUDDIES - @dimepdf (y/n and heeseung and fwb after heeseung win in his football match y/n gives him the best reward)
TEETH - @gyuuberryy (you were not thrilled about the move in of your new neighbour. mostly because he was so strange and seemed to be hiding something dark. and partly because you couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer to him because of your unwanted attraction. you were determined to expose his dark secret and get rid of him once and for all. but, it was proving to be a difficult task because he was just so irresistible..and needy.)
PLAYER RANK: PLATINUM - @simpjaes (You’re not sure what’s worse, your sister’s boyfriend or your sister’s boyfriend’s friends. What you thought would be a great deal in living with her throughout college turns into a major game of cat and mouse, where you’re unsure if your moral compass is pointing in the right direction solely because you suspect someone is wearing a giant sex magnet to throw it off.) (🔞)
RUDE - @4wkjun (heeseung has never loved anyone as much as he loves y/n. y/n’s father has never hated someone as much as he hates heeseung. but it doesn’t matter, heeseung’s gonna marry y/n anyway.)
I OFFER YOU MY EVERYTHING - @heegyukeluv (You never cared about sex, until you did. You grew too afraid of it, scared of disappointing the other person or showing your inexperience. But then you met Heeseung, the hot basketball captain that stole your heart and became your biggest fantasy. ) (🔞)
VERBOTEN - @heesbaby (a bad stroke of luck saw lee heeseung, your dads coworker, moving into your small apartment until he found his feet again. emotionally unavailable and a workaholic, you were going to try your absolute hardest to make him loosen up. even if it meant breaking a few of the house rules he'd set out.) (🔞) (♡)
10 DAYS TO FALL IN LOVE - @luvyeni (you and heeseung used to be bestfriends as children — he even told you he'd marry you one day. but then you went to highschool and things changed , he dyed his hair and started hanging out with a new group group of friends. through all that his love never changed for you — has yours changed for him?)
RENT A BOYFRIEND - @jayujus (in which jeon y/n is desperate to find a boyfriend ASAP because she needs a date for her family's mixer. her best friend, ningning, introduces her to a website perfect for this situation!)
CHERRY CHAPSTICK - @angelwonie (ever since you met lee heeseung, he told you that the two of you were going to get married. all the time, at every opportunity, he reinforced it until one day, drunk, you accepted. was he dreaming or did it really happen? it wouldn't be so bad to fall for his jokes for once.)
#enhypen#enhypen heeseung#heeseung fluff#heeseung angst#heeseung smut#lee heeseung#heeseung fic#heeseung fic recs#heeseung x reader#heeseung imagines#heeseung smau#heeseung scenarios#enhypen fic recs#enhypen x reader#enhypen fluff#enhypen recs#park jongseong#jay park#sim jaeyun#park sunghoon#kim sunoo#yang jungwon#nishimura riki#enhypen fic#kpop fic recs#fic recs#kpop
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── Lagneía
𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: shanks x f!reader - as the newest member of the red hair pirates, you have a long way to go to prove yourself, not only to your crew mates but your cocky captain as well. Unfortunately, things fall apart after a little excursion and a run-in with a glowing mushroom that has you feeling...hot.
𓍊𓋼𓍊 tags: smut, sex pollen, nsfw, dubcon (it's sex pollen, ya know how it is), MDNI
𓍊𓋼𓍊 wordcount: ~8k
𓍊𓋼𓍊 Read on AO3
𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊
You really did respect your Captain, though you didn’t tend to show it.
Benn Beckman was the one who had recruited you when he stumbled upon you in a gambling hall. You had been using Observation Haki to beat the dealer, racking up thousands in berri. Beckman clocked your underhanded method and cornered you outside the casino. You were nervous that he would report you to the authorities, but as luck would have it, he turned out to be a pirate. He was impressed by your advanced skills in Haki, and the two of you hit it off. Eventually, he brought you to the Red Force and introduced you to Shanks, who did not give the best first impression.
“Who’s the kid?” Shanks questioned, barely looking up from his drink.
He immediately rubbed you the wrong way.
Beckman cleared his throat before you could tear him a new one, “This is Y/N. They’re who I told you about, the one gifted in Observation Haki.”
Shanks finally looked up from his drink, lazily trailing his eyes from your feet, all the way to your face. He finally met your eyes and you struggled to maintain your composure under the immense pressure of his gaze. You lifted your chin, desperate to keep your dignity.
Shanks kept his eyes on yours, his gaze intense as he questioned you, “And why should you be a part of my crew? Have you ever been around pirates or even worked as one? It’s dangerous work. Are you sure you’re ready for this kind of lifestyle, kid?”
“I didn’t come here to be interrogated by some old man,” you bit back quickly.
Shanks put his hand over his heart dramatically, feigning emotional pain.
“Listen, Red Hair, I came here as a favor to Beckman, I don’t have anything to prove to you.” You paused as the hair on the back of your neck stood up, “And if your friend hiding over there even thinks about shooting that spitball at me, I’m walking.”
Beckman looked surprised, but Shanks only smiled. There was a clatter and some swearing before another man with dreadlocks emerged behind nearby ship supplies. “Well, shit. So much for that plan, Captain. Seems like she’s the real deal.” The man then jokingly blew the spitball at Shanks, who to your dismay, easily dodged it.
“Color me impressed.” You look back to see Shanks smiling up at you. “You have a lot of potential. Let’s work hard together, Y/N.”
…
While you didn’t join the Red Hair Pirates for Shanks, you became proud to be part of his crew over time. You had been sailing for around 6 months and were glad to say you had quickly proved your worth. Although there were members with better Haki skills, you knew you were improving every day with each new experience.
You hated to admit it, but your captain occupied much of your thoughts. You often wondered if Shanks knew just how hard you were still trying to prove yourself to him. Though you saw him often, you rarely ever worked with him directly. In fact, you’d barely spoken to one another after your first meeting. You had occasionally exchanged a few words, formalities really, at mealtimes and during duty; but a part of you wished there was more. Though, you would never let him know that.
You always put on a tough face in front of him, using words to bite back and hold your ground against the confident, and often cocky, Emperor of the Sea. Truthfully, after your first meeting you had come to admire him, and were slightly intimidated by the powerful man.
While sailing the Grand Line in the New World, the ship stumbled upon an uninhabited island. It was a warm, tropical island, thick with jungle and vines. Shanks decided that the crew would depart and explore the island for supplies, and Roux hoped to find some edible plants and animals for their stock.
All active members of the crew made groups and departed from the Red Force, but since you were not on shift, you’d decided to sleep in. When you awoke and found the ship docked, you decided it would be fun to explore the island as well. It was better than being cooped up all day in the barracks.
As you stepped down the ladder a cheery familiar voice called down to you, “And where do you think you’re going, kid?”
You jumped at your captain’s voice and looked up to see him. His hand gripped a rigging rope, holding him as he stood on the rail’s ledge, and leaned far off the ship to gaze down at you. His hair fell over his face, but his smile was still visible.
“God, Captain. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Well, I’m just trying to make sure our ship’s hawkeye doesn’t stray too far and get into trouble,” he teased.
“I’m not getting into trouble,” you grumbled as you looked back down to continue your descent onto the sand. “I just wanted to explore the island like everyone else.”
“Alone?” His smile slightly faltered.
“Is there a problem with that?” You ask, confused about where this conversation was going.
“Well, we can’t afford to lose a member with skills like yours. I’ll come with you.”
You reached the bottom of the ladder and looked up at Shanks in shock, “That really isn’t necessary, Captain. I don’t plan on going far-”
“Nonsense. Besides, you’re not much of a fighter, you should have a bodyguard when you go to unfamiliar places. And I have a duty to protect the valuable members of my crew.” As he said this he jumped from the railing and landed next to you.
You did your best to hide how flustered you were, “There are other members with better Observation Haki than I do, you included.”
Shanks tsked at your objection. He looked hard at you and spoke genuinely, “Don’t sell yourself short. I heard about how you helped the snipers take out that marine ship last week. And I heard how you helped guide the navigator through the rocky sea and fog the other day. I’ve only ever heard other crew members praising you.”
You quickly turned away from the red-haired man adjusting the strap on your bag. You knew you couldn’t stop the blush that was forming on your face, so you turned around to start walking into the jungle. “I just do what I’m told, Captain.” You quickly dismissed him, “Are you coming, or what?”
Shanks laughed as he caught up with you, walking ever so slightly behind you. The walk was silent as the two of you marched deeper and deeper into the jungle, occasionally stopping to inspect certain plants or animals or collect samples in your bag. He enjoyed watching you as you took in the new landscape around you. He’d always found it fascinating to watch you while you concentrated. In fact, he had rarely taken his eyes off you since you’d joined his crew.
From the second he met you, he knew you would be interesting. Shanks would be the first to admit he tested you during your first interaction. He purposefully pushed your buttons to see what you were made of. He needed to know how strong your resolve was before he let you, a stranger, onto his ship. And boy, did you meet his expectations, surpassed them even. Your insulting response nearly made him fall for you right then and there. But he knew his place as captain. He couldn’t risk showing special attention, let alone romantic attention to one of his subordinates. It was his job to keep you safe and provide you with a place to hone your abilities. He had to keep his distance.
Yet… here he was, an Emperor of the Sea, trailing behind you like a puppy. He was rightfully worried to see you sneaking off the ship after the assigned explorers already left. He was doing this because it was the captain’s duty to protect his crew. At least, that’s what he told himself.
As you pushed your way deeper through the vines you tried to ignore the fact that Shanks was tailing you. This was just like any other outing with any other crewmate. You felt his eyes on you the entire time as you walked, but you tried not to let it affect your movements. Was he judging you? You felt a little more self-conscious than usual about what you stopped to look at or how you collected samples. Especially when you caught him staring intensely at your hands.
You finally reached a large plateau. Looking up, you examined the wall looming far above your head, and at the base of the formation, there was an illuminated opening.
“Shanks,” you called out to your captain, “there’s a cave over there.”
Shanks shoved some pesky vines out of his face and looked toward where you were pointing. There was a small opening, barely 4 ft tall, and a blueish light was emanating from the abyss. You moved closer to the cave willing your senses to reach out and explain the phenomenon. You couldn’t sense any danger coming from the cave, so it was time to be like a pirate and explore.
“I’m going to go in.” You stated as you dropped your bag to the ground and started making your way to the entrance.
Shanks was quick, definitely not desperate, as he moved forward and grabbed your arm, “Woah! Hold on there. There is no way I can fit in there.” he gestured towards his large stature and again at the tiny entrance.
You considered the situation and shrugged, “Then wait out here. I won't be long, I just want to check out what’s causing the glow.”
Shanks frowned, realizing there was no point in arguing with you. “Alright, but be careful.”
You saluted him with an exaggerated hand on your brow and firmly stated,. “No.”
You turned away from him and focused back on the cave opening.
“Brat.” you heard him mutter under his breath. You turned around quickly, did you hear that right? He had a smile on his face.
You stared at him for a moment, a warm feeling blossoming in your chest. You smiled back before rolling your eyes and descending.
The walls of the cave were rich in color, with layers of lichen growing throughout the chasm. You strained your ears to listen for any unseen threats that could have been lurking beyond your sight, but all you could hear was the rhythmic drip of the cave walls weeping. As you bent and contorted your body to ease your way through the damp walls, you could see the blue light growing in intensity ahead.
Finally, you reached a large pocket of space in the cave, enabling you to stand straight and take in your surroundings. As you stretched out your back you stared in awe at the sight before you.
Dozens upon dozens of glowing mushrooms covered the room, growing across the walls and floor of the cave. The view was nothing short of dazzling, the light blue glow illuminating the space around you like nothing you had ever seen.
You approached the fungus carefully, although they were beautiful, you knew well that not all beautiful things were good. You drew a handkerchief from your pocket and crouched forward to grab a sample.
Suddenly, the hair on the back of your neck stood straight, and your blood chilled. You trusted your instincts and rapidly jerked backwards from the mysterious mushrooms. Unfortunately, you were not fast enough.
The gills of the mushrooms expanded and expelled a great mist of spores. The sickly sweet-smelling mist filled the room instantly and you yelped in surprise, feeling your way out of the room and back into the tunnel. You coughed as you darted through the veins of the cave desperate for fresh air and open spaces. You could hear Shanks calling out to you and you forced yourself to push forward toward his voice.
Shanks was anxious from the moment he heard you cry out. He felt helpless, unable to fit into the cave. He briefly considered blowing a hole through the mountainside to get to you. Thankfully, hearing your panting and clawing as you made your way out of the cave stopped him. He placed his hand above the cave opening and began calling out to you, begging you to keep moving toward him.
Shanks wasn’t prepared for what came out of that cave.
You stumbled out of the suffocating walls and fell onto the grass in front of your captain. You could vaguely hear Shanks, his voice filled with worry, but you barely registered it. Something was wrong. Your clothes felt tight and itchy, you felt your cheeks warm while the rest of your body developed goosebumps from the jungle air hitting your skin. And most troubling, everything from the deepest part of your core felt tight and ticklish.
Shanks knelt down, grabbing your shoulder to lift your gaze to him. The contact between the two of you sent electric shocks to your core. Sitting face to face with your captain you could barely breathe. At this distance, every feature of his face was at your fingertips. You took in your captain's features. The jagged shape of the scars that ran down his face, the prickly stubble he grew across his chin, his eyes bright with worry, the color of his lips… It took you a moment to realize he was talking to you.
“Y/N! Snap out of it! Y/N! What happened in there? What's going on?!”
The seriousness of his tone did not reach you. Why did he look so worried? You wanted him to smile at you like before. You reached up and touched his cheek with the back of your hand. Taken aback by this gesture, Shanks froze for a moment, then grabbed your hand, pressing it to his face harder. “Y/N. I need you to tell me what happened in there. You can do that for me, right?”
Your eyes widened, coming back to your senses you groaned as you tried to move away from Shanks and stand, only to find that your legs were jelly. “Capt’n. What's happening?”
Shanks let out a shaky laugh, “Well that's the million berri question right now, kid. Tell me what happened in the cave so I can help.”
You push your hands into your eyes, struggling to retrieve your memories, “The glow,” you whispered, “The glow in the cave. It was some kinda, I dunno, mushroom. It puffed some dust on’ta me.” you panted your words out.
“Good girl,” Shanks stroked your hair with his hand, “Now tell me, what did this mushroom look like?”
“Was so pretty, just like the sea. Blue and glowing.” You smiled at the memory of the beautiful sight.
While you reminisced on the memory, Shanks froze, overcome with the realization of what he was dealing with.
It happened several years before you joined the Red Hair Pirates. Shanks and Beckman were wasting the night away at some bar when a woman approached him. He had noticed the dark-haired beauty staring at him from across the bar but had paid no attention. It wasn't uncommon for him to get stares as an infamous pirate.
The woman set down a blue sparkling drink in front of Shanks, “Don't think you're from around here, handsome.” She smiled and batted her eyelashes at him, “How about we get to know each other over a couple’a drinks?”
Beckman stifled a snicker and Shanks shot him a glare. Looking back up at the woman, Shanks politely declined her advances, “Sorry, I'm afraid I'm not looking for any more company tonight,” Shanks slapped Beckman hard on the back making him wince, “This fella’s all the entertainment I'll need for the night.”
The woman tried to hide her annoyance with a smile, “Well then, sorry for interrupting.” She sneered as she turned away, “But the drink’s still on me. Do enjoy.”
Shanks and Beckman eyed each other and the drink skeptically. “Poison?” Asked Beckman bluntly.
Shanks let out a hearty laugh, “Well, only one way to find out!” And downed the sickly blue drink in seconds.
Shanks was stuck in his room the rest of the night, fisting his cock and rutting into his mattress. He admitted it wasn't his best decision. Hongo guessed that based on the color he likely ingested an aphrodisiac made from a plant called the lagneía fungi. “I've heard of petty thieves using it on pirates to steal their loot.” Hongo looked at Shanks scornfully, “Can't believe our captain fell for something like that …”
Shanks shook his head refusing to believe the evidence right in front of him. No! It can't be that. He brought his gaze back down at you and examined your face. You were flushed red, your pupils were dilated, and your gaze wandered across his body. He reached out to touch your arm and you gasped, goosebumps exploding from his touch. He really couldn't deny it any longer.
“Alright Y/n, don’t worry. You’re going to be just fine, just try not to panic.” Shanks spoke, trying to reassure the both of them. Despite his words, Shanks himself was panicking. What was he going to do with you? Sure, it's just an aphrodisiac, but truthfully the experience was borderline torture. Furthermore, judging by how quickly its effects were overcoming you, you must have gotten a serious dosage in your system. If you were a male member of his crew he would laugh it off and condemn you to your bunk with a porno mag like he had done for himself. But how could he let you of all people suffer alone like this?
“Am I gonna die? Everything feels weird,” tears pricked at the edge of your eyes, “like I’m on fire.”
“You’re not going to die.” Shanks insisted, “You’re just, going to be… uncomfortable for a little while. Let’s get you back to the ship so you can lie down.” Shanks bent down and grabbed one of your arms to maneuver you onto his back. Hoisting you up, your breath hitched as your center came into contact with Shanks’ back.
Shanks took off at a brisk pace, navigating the rough jungle terrain. You tried to take Shank’s advice to calm yourself, but you were distracted by the friction created between you and Shanks as he strode back to the ship at an agonizing pace. Everywhere you were touching him felt hot and unbearable. You began to feel a familiar sensation brewing in your lower abdomen. No way, there’s no way! You panicked at the feeling and tried to create distance between you and Shanks to alleviate the burning coil between your legs, but he gripped your thigh back, securing you to his back. “Stop squirming, are you trying to fall over?”
“Captain, ugh.” You buried your head in his back, panting from the unintentional pleasure, “Please slow down. Wait, please sto- Ah!” Suddenly the pressure built up to its peak. You squirmed and shook against your Captain’s back, fingers digging into his shoulders, unable to control your movements or your voice. With a final moan and gasp, you pushed yourself backward off of Shanks’ back onto the jungle floor.
Shanks circled back on his heels to find you curled up on the ground, “What are you doin-”
The realization hit him. He noted your shaking legs and rapid breaths and suddenly he became aware of a slightly damp spot on his back where your bodies had just been connected. He grappled with his own arousal seeing you like this, disheveled and glassy-eyed.
“God, Captain. I’m so sorry,” You covered your face with your hands, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I couldn’t stop myself.”
Shanks was kicking himself mentally as he watched you before him. Here you were feeling humiliated, embarrassed, and vulnerable; yet, there he was feeling himself getting hard at the sight. He’d wanted you for so long, wanted to make you his. Shanks licked his lips. He pushed down his indecent thoughts and turned his attention back to you. This wasn’t the time. You needed to get back to the ship, and right now that’s all that mattered.
In one swift movement, he scooped you up, placing a hand under your legs, carrying you in his arm. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck in embarrassment as he took off running. He was fast. You felt the wind on your face as he swiftly maneuvered through the trees at a great speed, his black coat flapping in the wind behind him. It took less than a minute for him to reach the ship. Shanks bounded onto the deck and managed to avoid the eyes of the returning crew. Reaching his room, he quickly ducked in and closed the door behind him, causing maps and papers to fly in all different directions.
Shanks walked with you in his arm over to his bed and laid you down as gently as he could. “Y/N, you need to listen to me,” he slipped his hand through your hair and gripped the back of your neck to force you to look at him. You looked up at him dazed, trying your best to concentrate on what he was telling you rather than the feeling of his hand on your neck. “You’re not dying. Those spores were an aphrodisiac,” He looked at you hard, making sure you understood what he was saying, “That’s why you’re feeling like this.”
You groaned and tried to hide your face out of embarrassment, but Shanks held you firm. “I’m going to get Hongo, he might be able to find some sort of sedative to help you work through this. You might have a shitty night, but I promise you’re going to be alright. I’ll be right back, ok?” He said softly.
Shanks lightly rubbed the back of your neck with his thumb before turning to leave, but you sat up and clutched his shirt to pull him back, “No! Please don’t. Don’t get Hongo.” You buried your head in his shirt, “I don’t want anyone seeing me… like this.”
Shanks’ gaze softened, “Y/N, Hongo is a professional, he’ll definitely be able to help.”
“No...I don’t…I can’t have anyone see me like this, please Captain. I-” your voice cracked, “I worked too hard to gain respect on this ship. Please. Don’t let anyone see me like this.”
Shanks began to disagree, “Hongo really would know the best way to deal with this, Y/N…” he stopped upon seeing the panic in your eyes. He sighed as he relented, “But, I’ll keep this between us for now. If that’s what you really want.”
You breathed a sigh of relief, though it was short lived. The aching between your legs was demanding attention, and you didn’t know how much longer you could restrain yourself from tending to it.
“Y/N.” You looked back up at Shanks, “If you really intend to deal with this on your own, the only way I know you can find relief is to stimulate yourself or… have sex.” Shanks kept your gaze as he spoke. “I’ll leave you my room. At least that way you can have some privacy while you deal with this. I’ll make sure nobody comes in here. You have my word.”
“Captain…” You found it hard to look him in the eye, you knew what you were about to ask wasn’t right, “Please. Don’t leave me.”
Shanks froze, for a moment he was speechless, he waited for you to meet his gaze and searched your eyes, “Y/N, do you really understand what you're asking right now?”
“I-” You doubled back over struggling to compose yourself, gripping Shanks silk sheets. Just imagining sleeping with your captain was enough to make your arousal unbearable. Despite your best judgment you shakily reached down and palmed in-between your legs, exhaling from the slight relief it gave you. You looked back up to Shanks, eyes pleading, “I can barely manage this right now. I can't do this alone. I'm begging you, please Shanks.”
Shanks stared at you, mouth agape and spellbound by the proposition. He could feel his mouth watering and his pants tighten. Shanks remembered just how miserable he had been with just the small dosage he’d taken, so he couldn’t even begin to imagine the turmoil that was currently wrecking your body. He balled his fist gathering the last bit of restraint he had and whispered, “It… wouldn’t be right of me to do this. You’re not in your right mind, you’d take anyone in your condition-”
“No. You’re wrong,” you were breathing heavily, choosing your words carefully, “I couldn’t bear it being anyone else. I want it to be you… Unless,” Your breath hitched, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer to the question you were about to ask, “do you not… want me?”
This was the final straw for Shanks. You had broken the great Emperor who’d tried so desperately to do the right thing. His resolve crumbled at your words and he found himself lunging toward you. He pounced over you, throwing you back onto his mattress as his lips crashed onto yours. Your senses exploded with electricity by his contact and you moaned into his mouth, eagerly accepting more. It was utterly overwhelming and you couldn't control the noises that escaped from your mouth as Shanks pushed your hand away to tend to your clit himself, shoving his hand down your pants.
Shanks briefly separated your lips and breathed heavily trailing kisses along your cheek and to your forehead, “I’ll ask you… one more time,” he muttered between pecks, “Are you sure about this?” He pulled back to meet your eyes.
“Old man,” you huffed at him, “Won’t you shut up and put your mouth to good use for onc-”
Shanks didn’t let you finish your sentence and forced your mouth wider to deepen your kiss as he worked to slip your pants off. Once they were off you spread your legs obediently for him, pushing your hips against his hand for more friction. With your pants out of the way, Shanks had more freedom to explore your folds. His thumb kept a steady rhythm on your bud as his other fingers dove lower. He smiled as he found how soaked you were for him. He gathered copious amounts of slick from your pussy, and used it to tease you further. Shanks moved his mouth down your neck, leaving dark spots where he sucked and teased.
You could already feel that you were close to climax, you squirmed and whined for more. Shanks relented to your obvious request and slipped two fingers inside you. The gratifying release was instantaneous. You gripped Shanks’ arm as he massaged your walls through your orgasm. He reveled at just how seductive your body was and how your pussy gripped his fingers tightly.
Shanks lifted his head out from the crook of your neck and glanced over to you, but you were worlds away. His whole body reacted when he finally saw you in shambles from his touch. Tears streamed down your reddened face, unable to concentrate on anything besides how good you felt, you just focused on trying to catch your breath. It was all so overwhelming, Shanks’ touch, his kisses, and his scent all around you.
Shanks’ breath hitched as he let out a snide laugh, “Well, I guess that’s one way to shut you up, brat.”
Shanks pulled away from you for a moment and the sudden loss of contact made you whimper. Shanks scolded you, “Quiet now, it’s not good to be impatient, Y/N.” Shanks teased as he shook off his coat and lifted his shirt above his head, discarding it onto the floor. You watched, entranced by the way his muscles moved. His broad shoulders and massive tanned biceps patterned with scars. You felt the heat grow again as he turned back to you.
You pouted at Shanks’ words, “It’s a little difficult being patient when you're so horny you feel like you're gonna explode!” You huffed, frowning dramatically. “Being in a hot man’s bed and watching him strip is not helping my situation.”
You immediately regretted your words as you watched his brow rise and a wicked smile form on his face. “A “hot man,” you say. Is that what you think of me?”
“Don’t get cocky,” you spat back, staring him down. He glared back, not backing down from your challenge. You couldn’t take it anymore. You just wanted him.
With a mischievous smile, Shanks crawled back over to you, placing his knee strategically between your legs pushing into the wet spot of your underwear. He ground his leg as he reached his arm up to pull off your shirt, you lifted your arms to make it easier. Shanks sighed with bliss as your breasts came into view, no bra in sight.
You gasped as Shanks’ hand groped one of your breasts and his mouth found the other. You leaned back and interlaced your fingers in Shanks' hair stroking and pulling on the red strands. You couldn’t help but inhale his scent as he devoured you.
Shanks released his lips off of your nipple with a pop and moaned, “In all my years,” he said breathlessly, “I’ve never wished so much that I had both of my hands again.”
You couldn't help but laugh at this statement, it was just too ridiculous. Shanks eyed you curiously, “Are you laughing at your Captain? Or, are you going to start calling me by my name like you did before?” Shanks’ mouth moved lower down your body, kissing your stomach as he trailed down, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you called me ‘Shanks’ earlier. What made you think you could drop honorifics with your Captain like that?”
All you could do was watch him as his lips moved closer and closer to your core, you were speechless with anticipation. Shanks played with the fabric of your underwear, tracing the hem and circling lower towards your clit. You jumped from the sensation. “Though, I have to admit. I did like the sound of my name on your lips.” He continued to tease you with both his words and his movements.
“Please, just touch me already, I can’t-”
“Call me by my name again. Then I’ll consider helping you.” Shanks was enjoying this far too much. His eyes twinkled up at you as he grazed your hip bone with his fingertips.
You gave in immediately, your pride nowhere to be found, “Shanks. Please make me feel good. I’m begging, Shanks.”
“That’s more like it.” Shanks shoved your underwear aside and thumbed your clit roughly. You arched your back at the sudden contact and cried out in pleasure. Shanks was completely enthralled with what was happening in front of him, he couldn't take his eyes away from your glistening pussy, soaking wet, all for him. He wanted more and demanded, “Lift your hips.”
You immediately obeyed your captain and raised your hips. Shanks grabbed your underwear and ripped them off you. You leaned back with anticipation, but nothing came. You peered up at the red-haired man and you realized he was examining your panties. “Oh. Sorry, I know that old pair isn’t exactly sexy…” You explained self-consciously. Then suddenly, as if he was possessed, he shoved your soaked underwear into his face and inhaled deeply. Your mouth fell open at the sight. At last, when he lowered your panties from his face he stared at you intensely, his eyes drunk and lazy from your scent.
You watched mesmerized by the man in front of you as he tossed your underwear aside, gripped the back of your thigh with his arm, and shoved it back towards your head. Before you could react to the sudden change of position, Shanks plunged his tongue between your folds and lapped up your juices. You gripped his hair as he indulged in your aroused pussy. Shanks moaned into you as you tightened your grasp and pulled his hair slightly. He felt his hard-on twitch painfully, desperate and leaking with pre-cum. It didn’t take long before you were rutting into his face, chasing another high and coming undone for a third time by your captain.
As your spasms ceased, Shanks sat back up between your legs. You were mortified to see his face covered in your arousal. You sat up and began to apologize, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry let me just-” You raise your hand to wipe away the creamy slick from his face, only to have it shoved away and to be brought into another hungry kiss. The juices from Shanks’ mouth mixed in with your saliva as your tongues intertwined.
You were at Shanks’ disposal, at his mercy. You wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anyone. It wasn’t enough, not yet. You needed more. Reaching down, you pressed down on the protruding tent that was rising in Shanks’ pants. Shanks pulled away from you slightly and hissed at the contact. You continued to palm at his growing member and whispered, “I want this, Shanks. I want to make you feel good too.”
Shanks laughed weakly, “Well… if you ask me like that, who am I to say no?” He moved back to sit on his knees and fumbled with his belt and pants. You couldn’t help but smile at how he shakily tripped over his buckle with only one hand. You reached up and helped him by pulling his pants down. Although you knew from feeling him earlier, you were still taken aback by the sheer size of his cock as it nearly smacked you in the face.
You eagerly eyed his cock and looked up at Shanks hovering above you, “Can I…” you begin as you reach up to take him in your grip, “suck it?”
Shanks couldn’t help but let out a gasp as you came into contact with his dick. “If- that’s what you want. But only a little. I’m not confident that I’ll last long if yo-” Shanks was cut off by your tongue trailing up the side of his cock. A shiver ran up his spine, and he gripped your hair with his hand to hold on for dear life. You wanted to taste every part of him, you couldn’t hold back.
You weren’t particularly experienced, but somehow you knew exactly what to do for him. You teased his rosy tip with your tongue, licking circles before wrapping your lips around it. You savored the salty taste and traced your tongue along the veins running down him. There was no way you could take him in his entirety, but you pushed as far as your throat could allow. You only got a few pumps in before Shanks stopped you. “Alright. That’s enough.” He sat back down on his rear and motioned for you to come to him, “This isn’t about me.” Which was true, but he knew his words were just an excuse. He easily could have come from just your tongue if he wasn’t careful.
You got up on your knees as Shanks requested, and straddled him. His dick sat hard in between the two of you as he pulled you in for another breathtaking kiss while he used his free hand to continue to stretch you out. Finally satisfied with his prep, he broke the kiss and lifted your ass to hover over him. Shanks looked up at you and purred, “I’ll leave this part to you.” He wrapped his large hand around yours and guided it to his throbbing cock, “I don’t want to hurt you. So you need to go at your own pace.”
You hesitated slightly at his command, insecure about your skills. But whatever shyness you felt about taking the lead was quickly dismissed by your overflowing arousal. With one hand on Shanks’ shoulder to steady yourself and the other seizing his member, you raised your hips to accommodate his height. You rubbed the head of his cock on your dripping pussy and you both hissed from the contact. Once Shanks was properly lubed by your fluids, you held your breath and slowly lowered your hips onto the tip of his cock. The head alone stretched your inner walls with an intensely painful pleasure. You felt overwhelmed by his size and the electric current that emanated from its pressure. You intended to take him slowly and acclimate to his size, but your instincts took control. You wanted to feel full. You wanted to be completely consumed by him. You hastily realigned yourself, took a breath, and slammed your hips down, instantly taking him down to his base.
Neither of you could keep your voices contained. You let out a moan laced with the pain and pleasure of finally receiving Shanks in his entirety. The feeling was devastating. You gripped Shanks’ head pulling him to your chest as you entangled your fingers in his hair. Shanks cursed as he willed himself to stay in control, the pressure and sensation of your grip was mind-shattering. He wrapped his arm around your waist, gripping your skin to ground himself.
You didn't give him time to recover. You raised your hips again and slammed down hard against him, receiving a grunt from him. You felt drunk, unable to control your actions, you found yourself rocking into him at an uncontrollable pace. The pain was fading away and was replaced by unbelievable pleasure. You needed more, you needed him everywhere.
Shanks took advantage of your position above him, trailing kisses along your chest and leaving occasional bruise and bite mark. He used his tongue to tease and suck on your hard nipples. His hand wandered along the length of your back, grazing your spine with his fingertips leaving you gasping. Even the slightest touch on your body created an unbearable reaction, flooding your senses with bliss.
Shanks’ hand continued to explore your body, ticking the nape of your neck, pinching your nipples, and finally falling between your legs. He flicked and rubbed your clit as you rode him at an alarming pace. You felt yourself nearing another climax as the coil in your core began to tighten. You chased the high as you ground against him, willing yourself to continue despite feeling like you were on the brink of collapse.
Your climax hit you like a train, bringing earth-shattering pleasure throughout your body. You fell forward, pushing Shanks onto his back as the feeling overtook you, unable to continue. But Shanks wouldn't let you rest and you couldn’t contain your voice as Shanks cruelly thrusted up into you, compelling your senses to disintegrate as he fucked you through your peak.
Your ears deafened and rang as you laid exhausted against Shanks’ wide chest, still twitching on his dick. Shanks slowed his pace and you sat on him for a moment as you tried to catch your breath. You felt lighter than when you’d first entered Shanks’ room and your head was clearer, but the burning desire still lay unsatisfied. You tried to sit up to keep riding until your body was appeased, but found yourself collapsing again. Your legs were wobbly, unable to continue. “Shanks,” you whispered, “I think you’re going to have to take over from here. Please.”
Shanks was still reeling from your ruthless pace on his dick. He looked up at you, astonished that you still had the energy to keep going. “So demanding. You’re making me forget I’m the captain here.” Shanks sat up and reversed your positions, laying you flat on your back as he hovered over you, “But, I guess I’ll follow your command this time, Captain.”
Shanks pushed your legs back again and took a moment to examine your swollen pink pussy. It dripped and pulsed in anticipation, making it obvious that the mushroom was still wreaking havoc on your nerves. Shanks knew you wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer and decided to bring this to an end as soon as possible. He positioned himself above you and gripped his cock. Pushing it on you, he teased your clit with his tip for a moment before moving lower and watching in awe as you swallowed his thick cock to the brim of his balls.
You gripped the sheets around you tightly, this felt even deeper than before, he was reaching far down inside and rubbing all your sensitive spots. He sat there a moment breathing deep with his eyes closed, feeling the deepest corners of your pussy squeeze and warm him. He was only brought back to reality when you squirmed and whimpered underneath him. You needed more friction, more movement, more anything. Your body was not going to be as patient as Shanks was wanting.
Shanks opened his eyes and smirked down at you, “Don’t worry,” he gripped your thigh tightly with his hand leaving it stinging, “I’ll give you what you want.”
Without warning he lifted his hips, leaving his tip barely inside you, and plowed himself into you as deep and as hard as he could. You choked on your own breath as he pulled out and hammered down into you again, and again. He set an abusive pace, each stroke hitting your deepest nerves and causing waves of spine-tingling pleasure.
Your heightened senses multiplied every feeling, every touch, and every kiss. You felt as if your body was going to disintegrate underneath Shanks. The sensation in your body was unfamiliar and frightening and it was becoming too much. You put your hands on Shanks’ chest in a half-hearted attempt to slow him down, but his merciless tempo continued to wreck your body. Twitching from pleasure, you attempted again to turn your body to run from the feeling. It was all too intense, it was too good and you couldn’t take it anymore.
Before you could move away Shanks forced you back into position and entangled his hand with yours. His thrusts persisted as he leaned down his head next to yours and whispered gruffly into your ear, his slurring voice tickling your neck, “This is what you wanted, right? What you needed? Take it for me. Be a good girl for me.”
You were nearly comatose from the pleasure racking your body. Just from his words, you reached another climax, and Shanks fucked you through it once again. Your eyesight became hazy and you knew you needed to ground yourself. Out of desperation, one of your hands reached out to claw his back and the other clenched his hair. You opened your mouth and bit down hard on Shanks’ shoulder. Shanks hissed harshly as your teeth pierced his shoulder, yet he found himself smiling. Your disobedience had always been a turn-on for him. Excited from the pain, he moaned into your ear, “I’m- close. So close.”
“Come in me.” You cried out. You knew you sounded desperate, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted him to ruin you, “Please come in me, Shanks. Please… Please… Please,” tears ran down your cheeks and you lost all sense of self. All you knew was that you wanted Shanks, every last bit of him.
It took all of Shanks’ willpower not to fulfill your request.
Every last instinct in Shanks’ body willed him to release inside you, to truly make you his. But his reasoning prevailed. He knew that despite everything he could not do that to you in this state. So, with a few final harsh thrusts, Shanks pulled his cock out and released his warm come across your stomach.
Shanks collapsed next to you, panting. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this. Everything around him felt fuzzy as he came down from his orgasmic high. Once he finally caught his breath again, he turned over and reached for you.
You had passed out.
…
You woke with a jolt of pain as you turned over on your side in your sleep. Groaning, you shifted your body to try and stretch out your achy muscles. However, you realized that you couldn’t move. There was a weight laying across your abdomen… and your leg… and there was something pressed up against your back…
Your eyes snapped open.
You weren’t in your room, that was obvious. But where were you? You turned slightly to lay on your back, and looking down you saw an arm strewn across your stomach. Horrified, your eyes trailed up to see whose arm it was. It took everything in you not to scream as you realized you were entangled in your captain's sleepy limbs.
Your mind raced, desperate to remember what happened. You were exploring the island, Shanks came with you, you went into the cave and…
It all came flooding back.
You lay there in shock.
What was going to happen now? What if someone saw you? Would you have to leave the ship?
Your eyes wandered to where he lay, breathing deep in his slumber. He was shirtless and you couldn’t help but stare. Looking down you realized you weren’t wearing your own clothes, but rather an oversized off-white button-down shirt. It was obvious that Shanks lent you his own shirt. What a gentleman, you thought sarcastically as your body ached. But, you couldn’t help yourself, you turned your body to face him for a better look at the man before you, admiring his strong features.
As you savored the view in front of you, Shanks willed his body to sit as still as possible. He had woken up nearly an hour before you had and had spent the time watching you sleep, stroking your hair, and indulging in the feeling of sleeping next to you. He panicked when you shifted in your sleep and decided to pretend to be asleep. To his surprise, you hadn’t gotten up to leave, and he could feel your warm gaze on his face. He savored this morning, never wanting it to end.
The peaceful moment was ruined in an instant.
Shanks’ bedroom door flew open with a loud crash as none other than Benn Beckman strode in. You and Shanks’ eyes flew open and met each other in horror before turning your attention to the trespasser. Beckman didn’t get more than three steps into his Captain’s room when he realized what he stumbled in on.
There was a moment of silence, all three of you stared at each other, taking in the information in front of you.
Finally, you came to your senses and flung the sheets over yourself to hide from the embarrassment. You felt Shanks’ hand lay protectively on your back as you hid, “Beckman,” He spoke sharply, “you’d better have a good reason for barging into my room.”
Beckman gulped, “Definitely not a good enough reason for this.”
“Right. Beckman?”
“Yes?”
“Leave. Now.”
“Right. Don’t have to tell me twice.” Beckman turned to the door and stepped out of the room. You peeked out of the blankets and saw Beckman pause before closing the door behind him. He looked back at you and Shanks sternly, “I hope you two know what you’re doing.”
And with that, he closed the door.
You peeled back the covers and emerged next to Shanks. The two of you sat in silence for a minute, both pondering Beckman’s statement. He had a good point. What were you going to do now? Mushroom or not, the two of you crossed the boundary between captain and crewmate. Would you both ignore it and pretend nothing happened?
Your mind was spinning down all the possibilities that were laid out in front of you. Shanks thought your ears would start smoking soon, and he spoke first. Laying you back down on his arm he spoke two simple sentences that made you relax and settle down to sleep.
“Let’s worry about this tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”
𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊
𓍊𓋼𓍊 authors note: HUGE shout out to @nanpecan for editing this and helping me not sound illiterate
#I'm not a writer be nice to me#here for the laffs xoxo#if anyone was wondering lagneia just means lust in greek#the creative juices were just flowing out of me what can i say#shanks#shanks x reader#shanks hc#one piece#one piece hc#one piece fanfic#shanks fanfic#self insert#one piece self insert#sex pollen#smut#shanks smut#one piece headcanons#shanks headcanons#one piece x reader#shanks x y/n#one piece x y/n#mine#shanks one shot#one shot#shanks fic
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Oblivious, Baby, Oblivious
Summary: People would tell you that geniuses don't know everything, but you tell them that defeats the purpose of the word. Until one day you're proven wrong.
Word Count: 17.4k+
Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader
Notes: i came up with this idea a few days ago and had to write it down. basically reader is a genius and her mutation is controlling nature (her code name is 'flora' but it's not used often. and yes, it's a winx club reference, sue me)
i tried to make it as inclusive as i could, but i'm still learning since this is only my second reader fic.
i would like to turn this into a oneshot series, so don't be afraid to send in any requests!
warnings: few uses of y/n, logan uses a lot of pet names for reader, slight innocent!reader
You had only been at the X-Mansion for a year and yet all the students seemed to love you. At first, you thought that no teenager would want to come out to the large greenhouse you had set up, but you were proven wrong.
At the end of every day, right before dinner, dozens of kids would come out and help you water the plants and pull out the weeds.
It was certainly not what you expected to do after college, especially after only having your PhD’s for 2 years. It had all started when you met Hank McCoy at a science conference in New York City. You had graduated a mere few weeks ago and were out trying to network when you met him.
After that, Hank took you to meet Charles Xavier and he offered you a two-sided job, teach a few classes and be part of the X-Men, after you went through some training. You didn’t know how to fight at the beginning, but now you think you’ve got the hang of it.
You had just finished teaching your advanced physics class, standing at your desk gathering up the papers before going to your office to grade them, when someone knocked on the open classroom door.
Logan stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, with that usual smirk tugging at his lips. “You done for the day, sweetheart?”
You looked up from the pile of papers, surprised to see him there, though you probably shouldn’t have been. Logan had this way of showing up whenever you least expected it, always with some sort of pet name that left your students giggling.
When you first arrived at the school and started your training, it was Logan and Ororo who helped you learn how to fight. You certainly were not on a level like Logan, but you now knew how to hold your own without completely relying on your powers.
Logan was probably the one you were closest to at the mansion, save for Ororo and Jean. You enjoyed his company, even in the late nights when you would tend to the plants and he would stand quietly nearby smoking a cigar.
“Just about,” you replied, straightening the stack. “I was going to head to my office and grade these. Why? You need something?”
Logan pushed himself off the doorframe and sauntered toward you, his boots thudding lightly against the floor. “Can’t a guy just drop by and check in on ya?”
You rolled your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “I guess, but somehow I doubt you’re just here to ‘check in.’” You shuffled the papers into a neat stack, slipping them into a folder. “So, what’s up?”
Logan shrugged, hands now in his jacket pockets as he stood a few feet away from your desk. “You’ve been buried in books and papers all week. Thought you could use a break.”
You raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be done grading these in like an hour. It doesn’t take me long. Unlike someone else.”
Logan snorted, a small smile forming as he tilted his head at you. "Yeah, well, not all of us have two fancy PhDs and can finish things in a blink, darlin’."
You laughed softly, putting the papers into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “You’re just mad because I keep proving I’m right.” You rounded your desk, smirking. “Plus, I’m having a movie night with Jean and Ororo. See? I can take breaks.”
Logan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile as he leaned in just a little, casting you that knowing look he always had when he was teasing you. “Movie night, huh? Lemme guess—something boring and science-y?”
You scoffed, shaking your head as you zipped up your bag. “Not every movie night is a science documentary, Logan.”
“Mmhmm,” he replied, the teasing drawl in his voice making it clear he didn’t believe you for a second. “So, what are you watchin’, then? Some quantum physics thriller?”
You rolled your eyes, grinning. “It’s The Princess Diaries this time, actually. But I do like documentaries, so don’t knock them.”
Logan chuckled, the sound low and deep, and for a moment it made you forget the pile of grading still waiting for you. “I’ll let it slide this time, darlin’. But if I hear you talkin’ about how accurate the physics are in some movie during your ‘break,’ I’m dragging you out of that mansion myself.”
You gave him a mock-serious look. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, I would,” he shot back, his smirk widening. “And we both know I could.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t wrong. Logan had a way of just picking you up—literally—and dragging you away when he thought you’d been working too hard. Sometimes you suspected he enjoyed it a little too much.
Before you could retort, Logan's expression softened slightly. “Look, Y/N, I’m serious. You’ve been bustin’ your ass all week. Go take a real break tonight, will ya?”
There it was again. That rare softness he showed only to you, like the tough exterior melted away for just a second. You never really knew how to respond when he got like that, so you shrugged casually and smiled. “I’ll take it easy tonight. Promise.”
“Good,” he said, his voice gruff but warm. “’Cause I don’t wanna hear about you passin’ out from exhaustion or whatever it is geniuses do when they work themselves to death.”
You walked to the door and turned back to face him, “Einstein slept 10 hours during the night and took regular naps.” You gave him a wink and walked down the hall towards your office, a satisfied smirk on your face.
Logan watched you disappear down the hallway, shaking his head with a faint smile. He wasn't sure when it started, but something about your energy, the way you threw yourself into everything—whether it was the students, your research, or even the X-Men's missions—had caught his attention. And now, it was hard to get you out of his head, let alone his senses.
He could always tell when you were nearby or recently in an area—your perfume was inherently you, mango with an undercurrent of something woodsy. And you always looked cute, a word Logan thought he’d never use. You constantly wore colors, usually pastels in varying shades, whether it be a shirt, your shoes, or even accessories in your hair. It was almost ridiculous how someone with two PhDs and the kind of brain that could out-think just about everyone around her could be so oblivious to certain things.
And that was why he found you so fascinating.
You were brilliant, no doubt about it—always talking about equations, theories, and whatever else you’d been reading about. But somehow, you never seemed to notice when he was flirting with you, which had become Logan's new favorite game. He knew exactly what he was doing when he called you varying nicknames.
It wasn’t like it was a secret either; pretty much everyone at the mansion had picked up on it. Hell, even the students were in on it, giggling whenever Logan tossed a pet name your way or gave you one of those half-smirks that drove everyone else insane.
Everyone except you, apparently.
You walked down the hall, completely unaware of the looks you were getting, or the fact that Logan’s eyes lingered a bit longer than they should have as you disappeared around the corner. Shaking his head, he let out a low chuckle before heading toward the garage. Maybe a ride on his bike would clear his head, though it probably wouldn’t. You had a way of sticking in his mind, even when you weren’t around.
---
Later that night, you were sprawled on the couch in one of the common rooms, sandwiched between Jean and Ororo as the three of you laughed at the antics on screen. The Princess Diaries was playing, and though you’d seen it a dozen times, it never failed to make you laugh.
You had your hair tied up and off your neck, and you were dressed in one of your usual casual outfits—leggings and an oversized hoodie that probably belonged to one of the guys in the mansion, though you couldn’t remember who. Logan’s scent faintly lingered on it, but you didn't think much of it.
You shifted comfortably, pulling your legs up to curl under you as Jean and Ororo sat on either side, each of you clutching bowls of popcorn and laughing at the antics in The Princess Diaries.
“I still don’t get how a movie about a teenager becoming a princess is this funny,” Jean said, shaking her head as she stuffed another handful of popcorn into her mouth. “Like, shouldn’t it be cheesy?”
“It is cheesy,” you countered, laughing as Mia slipped and fell in the movie. “But it’s good cheesy. There’s a difference.”
Ororo chuckled, glancing at you with an amused smile. “You’ve seen this how many times now?”
“Don’t judge me,” you teased, tossing a piece of popcorn in her direction, which she easily swatted away with a smirk. “This is a classic.”
Jean raised an eyebrow, giving you a playful nudge. “More classic than, say, 2001: A Space Odyssey? That seems more your speed.”
You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Not every movie I watch has to be some cerebral masterpiece, Jean.”
Ororo smiled knowingly. “Mmm, true, but you’re always spouting off facts about space or physics during random moments in these movies.”
“That’s because science is everywhere!” you replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You can’t not notice when something’s wrong.”
Jean grinned. “Like that time you paused Star Wars just to give us a lecture on how light speed doesn’t work like that?”
You huffed a laugh. “Well, it doesn’t. It’s all—”
“Science, we know,” Ororo finished, sharing a look with Jean that made you roll your eyes again.
“Okay, okay,” you conceded, holding up your hands. “I’ll try not to nerd out tonight.”
“That’s all we ask,” Jean said, smirking as she leaned back on the couch, throwing a kernel of popcorn into her mouth.
For the next hour or so, the three of you watched the movie without incident, though you had to bite your tongue more than once. A promise was a promise, after all.
When the movie ended, Ororo stretched and got up from the couch. “Alright, I’m heading to bed. I’ve got an early class tomorrow.”
“Same,” Jean said, standing and offering you a soft smile.
“Guess I’ll get ready for bed too, then.” You replied. Each of you headed to your rooms, Jean shared one with Scott down the hall from you, and Ororo’s room was close by theirs.
Your room was full of plants, small vines on the walls and windowsills, along with potted flowers across the room. It had been habit ever since you learned about your powers to always be surrounded by them, it gave you a sense of peace.
Taking off your clothes you got into the shower, where more plants were, including a rhaphidophora tetrasperma and a maidenhair fern.
You smiled to yourself, relishing the small oasis you’d created in your bathroom. The plants thrived in here, the humidity of your showers mimicking their natural habitat. It was a simple pleasure to see something flourish under your care, which was probably why you always surrounded yourself with greenery.
You rinsed off, the water now lukewarm as it cascaded over you, and turned the shower off. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you stepped out, the cool air hitting your skin as you moved toward the mirror. You wiped a hand across the fogged glass, revealing your reflection. You took off your shower cap, letting your hair free from its constraints.
There was a faint knock at your door, and you glanced toward it, frowning. Who would be knocking at this hour?
“Y/N?” Logan’s voice came from the other side. “You still awake?”
Your eyes widened slightly. What was Logan doing here? You quickly pulled on some comfortable clothes—an oversized t-shirt and shorts—before cracking the door open to find Logan leaning against the frame, his usual smirk in place.
“Logan? It’s kind of late. What’s up?” you asked, holding the door open just enough for him to see you but not enough to fully invite him in.
He shrugged, his eyes briefly scanning you before locking on yours. “Came by to see if you wanted to take a walk. Figured you might still be awake.”
You blinked, taken aback. “A walk? Now?”
“Yeah,” he replied casually, as if asking you to go for a walk at nearly midnight was the most normal thing in the world. “You’re always sayin’ how you like the way the plants look at night. Thought maybe you’d want some fresh air.”
You hesitated for a moment, considering his offer. You had planned on heading to bed soon, but you couldn’t deny the appeal of a nighttime walk—especially with Logan. The mansion grounds were peaceful at this hour, and the idea of walking among the moonlit flowers sounded tempting.
“Alright,” you said, pushing the door open the rest of the way. “Let me put on some shoes.”
Logan nodded, leaning back against the doorframe as he waited, his arms crossing over his chest. You slipped on a pair of sneakers, quickly tying the laces.
“Ready,” you said, adjusting your shirt and stepping out into the hallway.
Logan pushed off the frame and started walking beside you, his steps easy and casual. The mansion was quiet, most of the students already asleep, and you could hear the soft hum of night settling in as you both made your way outside. The cool air greeted you as you stepped into the garden, and you couldn’t help but smile as the scent of flowers and earth filled your senses.
“So,” Logan said after a moment, his hands sliding into his jacket pockets, “how was the movie?”
You smiled, glancing at him. “It was good. A classic, really.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Jean and Ororo didn’t give you a hard time?”
You chuckled. “Well, they did try to poke fun at my love for science, but nothing too bad. It was all in good fun.”
Logan smirked. “Yeah, they like to tease. Just means they’re comfortable around ya.”
You gave a small nod, your gaze shifting to the moonlit flowers around you. You loved the way the plants seemed to glow in the night, the way everything felt so peaceful at this hour. It was one of the reasons you often came out here at night when the mansion was quiet and still.
The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the soft sounds of nature surrounding you. Logan didn’t say much, but that was one of the things you liked about him—he didn’t need to fill the air with pointless conversation. He was just… there, steady and solid, like the trees you so loved to be around.
You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, taking in his relaxed posture, the way his jacket hung off his broad shoulders, and the ever-present smirk tugging at his lips. You wondered briefly what he thought of these walks. He always seemed to show up at the right moments, offering his company when you needed it most, even if you didn’t realize you needed it at the time.
“So, Logan,” you started, your voice casual as you glanced at a cluster of moonlit lilies, “what’s the real reason you wanted to walk tonight? I know you didn’t just suddenly decide to take in the scenery.”
He chuckled, low and deep, as he shifted his gaze to the path ahead. “Maybe I like the scenery more than I let on.”
“Right,” you teased, arching an eyebrow. “Because I’ve definitely seen you out here admiring the roses before.”
“Who says I’m talkin’ about the roses, sweetheart?”
You rolled your eyes, though a faint smile played at your lips. “Uh-huh. Keep dreaming, Logan.”
There was that playful glint in his eyes again, the one you’d grown used to but never quite understood. He always had this way of teasing you—soft, subtle comments that seemed to amuse him more than anything else. It wasn’t like you minded, though. You liked the banter, even if you never quite knew why he seemed to engage in it with you so much.
You gave him a sidelong glance, but Logan’s expression remained as it usually did—a little cocky, a little mysterious, his hands resting casually in his jacket pockets as he walked alongside you. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the path, and you found your gaze drifting back to the flowers blooming in the gardens. The peace of the night wrapped around you like a soft blanket, and for a moment, you almost forgot Logan was there.
“Y’know,” Logan said after a stretch of silence, his voice low and lazy, “you really are a mystery, sweetheart.”
You blinked, turning to him with a slight frown. “What do you mean by that?”
Logan shrugged, his eyes briefly flicking to yours before looking ahead again. “You’re this genius, right? Got two PhDs, can out-think just about anyone in the room. But sometimes… you’re completely clueless.”
You scoffed, giving him an incredulous look. “Clueless? Me? I don’t think that’s possible.”
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and he shook his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that teasing smile. “Yeah, darlin’. Clueless. You know a hell of a lot about a lot of things, but when it comes to readin’ people? Not so much.”
Your frown deepened. “I think I read people just fine, Logan.”
He stopped walking then, turning to face you with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Oh, do ya?”
“Yeah,” you insisted, crossing your arms over your chest. “I spend a lot of time around people. I know how to pick up on things.”
Logan’s smile widened, like he was holding back laughter. “Is that so?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, confused by the sudden shift in conversation. “Yes, that’s so. What are you getting at?”
Logan’s grin widened as he saw you narrow your eyes, your arms crossed in clear frustration. There was something about how easily he could rile you up, how your normally sharp mind would stumble whenever he teased you, that made him enjoy these moments even more.
“You’re dodging the question,” you pressed, sensing that his silence was deliberate. “What are you getting at?”
Logan shrugged nonchalantly, leaning against the nearest tree, his usual smirk in place. “I’m just sayin’, for someone who’s supposed to be a genius, you don’t always see what’s right in front of you.”
You let out a huff, clearly not satisfied with his answer. “I see everything just fine, Logan. You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”
“Subtle, huh?” Logan echoed, his grin softening into a more thoughtful expression. “Maybe I’m not. Or maybe you’re just a little too focused on the wrong things.”
You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but as usual, Logan didn’t offer anything more. He simply stood there, his eyes watching you carefully, as if enjoying the little mystery he’d planted in your mind. You could practically see the amusement dancing behind his gaze.
“This is just another one of your games, isn’t it?” you muttered, though there was no real bite in your tone. “You like keeping me guessing.”
“Maybe,” he said with a wink. “Keeps things interestin’, don’t ya think?”
You rolled your eyes again, turning away from him as you started walking down the path. You weren’t going to let him keep you on edge like this. You had better things to think about than whatever half-assed answer Logan was playing at tonight.
Logan fell into step beside you, his hands tucked back into his pockets. The two of you walked in silence for a bit longer, and despite the earlier tension, you found yourself relaxing once more. The garden was quiet, the night cool and calm. Logan’s presence, as always, was steady beside you, even if he did like to mess with your head sometimes.
“You know,” you began after a while, your voice softer now, “just because I’m a genius doesn’t mean I’m completely oblivious to people. I do pick up on things.”
Logan shot you a sideways glance, that infuriating smirk back on his face. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”
“I’m serious!” you insisted, though a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “I just… maybe I’m not as concerned with people’s motives as much as I am with facts and data. It’s different.”
Logan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s part of the problem, doll. You think you can figure out everything like it’s a puzzle. But people? We’re a little more complicated than that.”
You tilted your head, thinking about that. “I don’t see why it has to be complicated. People say what they mean, don’t they?”
Logan paused for a moment, his smirk turning into something more thoughtful. “Not always.”
There was a heaviness in his voice that made you glance up at him, but before you could ask what he meant, he turned his head away, eyes focused on something in the distance. The moment passed, and Logan was back to his usual self, his grin in place as if nothing had happened.
“Anyway,” he said, changing the subject, “how’s your latest project goin’? Still messing with those gadgets?”
You sighed, the shift in conversation allowing you to relax again. “Yeah, still working on a few prototypes. Hank’s been helping me out with some of the materials, but we’re having trouble stabilizing the energy output.”
Logan nodded, listening with genuine interest. “Sounds like somethin’ you’ll figure out soon enough.”
“I hope so,” you said with a small smile. “But it’s been a little frustrating.”
“Not used to runnin’ into roadblocks, huh?” Logan teased.
“Not really,” you admitted, a touch of sheepishness in your tone. “I’m used to things coming together quickly once I have all the information. This one’s been… tricky.”
Logan gave a low hum of understanding. “That’s the thing about science, sweetheart. It ain’t always predictable.”
“Yeah, but I like predictability,” you said with a shrug. “It makes sense. People, on the other hand…”
Logan laughed at that, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”
The two of you continued your walk, the conversation drifting to lighter topics—projects, students at the mansion, the occasional prank pulled by one of the younger mutants. You liked how easy it was to talk to Logan, even when he teased you or left you hanging on a thought. He was always there, listening, offering his dry commentary when it was needed.
As you walked, you found yourself glancing at him every now and then, taking in the way the moonlight caught his features, the rough stubble on his jaw, the confident way he carried himself. You didn’t understand why he spent so much time around you, especially when he had no trouble being alone or doing his own thing. Logan didn’t seem like the type to go out of his way for someone, and yet… here he was.
“Logan?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.
“Yeah?” he replied, his gaze shifting to you.
“Why do you do this?”
He frowned, genuinely confused. “Do what?”
“Walk with me. Spend time with me. You’re not exactly the most sociable guy around here.”
Logan gave a low chuckle, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Maybe I like your company, sweetheart. Ever think of that?”
You blinked, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. It wasn’t like Logan to be so direct about… feelings. You weren’t sure how to respond, so you simply looked away, feeling a slight warmth creeping up your cheeks.
“I guess I never really thought about it,” you admitted after a moment.
Logan’s smirk returned, but there was something softer behind it this time. “That’s ‘cause you’re too busy thinkin’ about everythin’ else, doll.”
You didn’t respond right away, still processing his words. Logan wasn’t one to lay things out so plainly, but when he did, it always seemed to catch you off guard. He had this way of making you question things—yourself, your understanding of the world—without ever really giving you any answers. It was frustrating, but at the same time, it was… endearing.
As the two of you walked back toward the mansion, the quiet settling over you once more, you couldn’t help but wonder what Logan had meant earlier. About you being ‘clueless.’ It wasn’t like you didn’t notice things—sure, people had their layers, but you weren’t blind to them. So what was he talking about?
---
The next morning, you were back in your usual routine—teaching classes, working in the greenhouse, and helping the students with their studies. It was a busy day, but you didn’t mind. The students were eager to learn, and you found a sense of satisfaction in watching them grow and develop their skills.
After your last class, you made your way to the greenhouse, your favorite part of the day. The students had already watered the plants earlier, so you spent some time pruning and checking on the growth of the flowers and vegetables.
The sound of footsteps approaching caught your attention, and you turned to see Logan leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, glancing up from the plant you were tending to.
Logan shrugged. “Figured I’d stop by. See how you’re doin’.”
You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “You checking up on me again?”
He chuckled. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on ya, sweetheart.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head as you turned back to your plants. “I’m fine, Logan. Really.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, his voice closer now. You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing just a few feet away, watching you with that same unreadable expression he always seemed to have around you. “But it doesn’t hurt to check in every now and then.”
Logan looked over at a large strawberry plant in the corner, it seemed to have a lot of yield, bright red strawberries hanging from the branches.
“You ever try a strawberry with no pesticides?” You asked, standing up from the ground and taking off your gloves. You looked around the plant before pulling what you thought looked to be the best of the bunch, holding it out for him. Since it was August, the strawberries were soon going to go out of season, so this was the last good batch you were going to get.
Logan raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly as he eyed the fruit in your hand. "I’ve had my share of wild strawberries, sweetheart, but never from your garden.”
You rolled your eyes, stepping closer to him with the strawberry still outstretched. “Wild strawberries? Really, Logan? This is organic, homegrown perfection. Totally different experience.”
He chuckled, finally taking the strawberry from you, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief second. It was so brief you didn’t think much of it, but Logan’s smirk softened into something more genuine as he popped the strawberry into his mouth.
“Well?” you asked, watching him expectantly. “What do you think?”
Logan chewed slowly, his eyes not leaving yours. “Sweet,” he finally said, his voice low. “Real sweet.”
You smiled, pleased with his answer, though you didn’t quite catch the way his gaze lingered on you as he said it. “Told you,” you said, turning back to the plant to grab a strawberry for yourself. “Fresh strawberries are unbeatable.”
He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you take a bite. “You take real pride in this, don’t ya?”
“Of course,” you said, glancing at him between bites. “There’s something rewarding about growing things. Watching them thrive under the right conditions. It’s like… I don’t know, creating life.”
Logan’s eyes softened as he listened to you talk, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. “You care a lot about the little det- ” He was cut off by surprise, your thumb brushing the corner of his lips wiping off some of the strawberry juice.
You seemed to not think much about it, nor did you notice Logan’s heart sped up with your simple touch. It was over quick, you let out a soft gasp and walked behind him, looking up at a vine at the top where you saw a few ripe kiwis.
You reached your palm out, focusing your energy on the vines at the top of the greenhouse. They shifted gently, as if responding to your silent command, dropping three ripe kiwis into your hand. You grinned, knowing Jean would appreciate the fresh fruit later. It wasn’t easy growing kiwis in New York, but your powers made up for the climate’s shortcomings. Nature seemed to bend to your will, a fact you took quiet pride in, even though you’d never flaunt it.
Meanwhile, Logan was still in slight shock from your gesture, he could almost feel the spot where your thumb brushed against him, almost as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And you did it without thinking, in fact, you still didn’t seem to notice him looking at your back as you picked a few bunches of basil.
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t just the way you talked about plants or how your hands moved with skill and grace—it was you, completely unaware of how you affected him. Completely unaware that his heart rate had spiked at the smallest, most innocent touch.
“Something wrong?” you asked, not even turning around as you picked at the herbs.
Logan blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts. “Nah, just... thinkin’. You’re somethin’, you know that?”
You gave a short laugh, pausing to glance back at him over your shoulder. “If that’s your way of saying I’m a genius again, I already know.”
He chuckled, moving to stand a bit closer. “That’s not exactly what I meant, sweetheart.” His voice was low, with that familiar gravelly tone he used when teasing you.
But as usual, the hint flew right past you. “Well, whatever it is, I’ll take it as a compliment.” You plucked another handful of basil leaves, slipping them into a small basket on the bench. “And you should try to be more specific next time, Logan. It helps with communication.”
“Specific, huh?” Logan leaned a little against the workbench beside you, arms crossed. “Alright then, you’re smart, sure. But there’s more to it than that. You... you just do things without even thinking about it. Like earlier.” His eyes flickered briefly to your hand.
You frowned a little, confused. “Earlier? You mean the strawberry thing? Or when I wiped the juice off your face?”
“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “That.”
You blinked, not understanding why he was making such a big deal of it. “Logan, it was just strawberry juice. You looked like you were about to walk into a meeting with half a fruit smeared on your face.”
Logan let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, doll. I get that.” He watched as you turned back to your plants, completely oblivious to the fact that what had been a small, thoughtless gesture for you had stirred something deeper for him. He found it both amusing and frustrating—not in an annoying way, but in a way that made him want to get closer to you, to push the boundaries just a little more.
“So,” you said, shifting the subject as you snipped a bit more basil. “What’s got you wandering into the greenhouse today? It’s not exactly your usual haunt.”
Logan leaned back, watching you with those intense eyes of his. “Just felt like stoppin’ by. Spend some time with you. Ain’t that a good enough reason?”
You rolled your eyes, though your smile was genuine. “I suppose. It’s just... you don’t usually care about plants and stuff.”
“Well, maybe I’m changin’,” Logan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
You shook your head, laughing softly. “I’ll believe that when I see it.” You paused, glancing at him as you picked up a watering can. “So... you wanna help?”
Logan raised an eyebrow. “Me? Helpin’ with your garden?”
“Why not?” you asked, stepping closer to him. “You’ve got hands, don’t you? It’s not all that complicated.”
He chuckled, reaching out to take the watering can from you, brushing his fingers against yours for a second time. “Alright, sweetheart, show me how it’s done.”
You handed him the can and pointed to a row of lavender plants nearby. “Just give them a little water. Not too much though—they don’t like it when their roots get too wet.”
Logan followed your instructions with a kind of amused curiosity, watching as the water trickled from the can onto the plants. It wasn’t the kind of thing he normally found himself doing, but there was something about the simplicity of it, something about you, that made it... well, not so bad.
“You really know your stuff, don’t ya?” Logan remarked after a few moments, his voice carrying a hint of admiration.
“Well, yeah,” you said, turning to grab some tools from a nearby shelf. “I’ve been doing this for a while. Plus, it’s kind of in my wheelhouse, you know? With the whole ‘controlling nature’ thing.”
Logan smirked, setting the watering can down as he leaned against the bench again. “Yeah, I’ve seen you do some pretty wild things with those powers of yours. But you don’t talk about ‘em much.”
“I talk to them.” You said, hiding a grin from growing on your face.
“Really?” he asked, surprised.
You laughed as you stood up, throwing a few weeds in a separate basket. “No. I was joking!”
Logan let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head at you. “You got me there, sweetheart,” he said, still leaning against the bench, watching you with that ever-present smirk on his face.
You grabbed a nearby hose, turning the water on low to rinse your hands. "Can't believe you thought I was serious. I mean, I get along with plants, but I don’t have full-on conversations with them. That’d be weird."
"Wouldn't surprise me with you, doll," Logan replied, still watching you intently. "You seem to know what everything around here needs, even without talkin' to 'em."
You shrugged, drying your hands on a towel. "It’s just intuition, I guess. Plants give off signals if you know how to read them."
Logan gave you a long look, his smirk softening into something almost affectionate, though you didn’t notice. "You sure it's just the plants you read that well?"
You looked up at him, confused for a second, but quickly shook your head, dismissing his comment. "Are you gonna keep talking, or are you actually going to help me?”
Logan pushed himself off the bench, standing up straight. "Alright, alright. Where do you want me, doll?"
You handed him the basket full of weeds, “throw them out.”
He raised an eyebrow, “that’s it?”
You handed Logan the basket of weeds, his hand brushing against yours for the third time today. He smirked slightly, but you, as usual, were completely unaware of the subtle tension.
“Mm-hmm,” you hummed in response to his earlier question, balancing two baskets filled with freshly picked fruits, vegetables, and herbs in your arms. “I’m gonna lock up and bring these inside.”
Logan didn’t move for a second, watching as you turned your back and headed toward the door, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the greenhouse. For someone so sharp, so brilliant, you seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he enjoyed these little moments with you.
That small, unspoken connection you two had—the one where you never quite seemed to notice that he was flirting with you—had started to become his favorite part of the day. Even if it had been going on for 8 months, and yes, he was counting.
As you reached for the lock on the greenhouse door, you glanced over your shoulder. “You’re still standing there, Logan. Are you gonna help or just watch me carry all this stuff by myself?”
Logan’s smirk widened. “Oh, I was just enjoyin' the view, sweetheart.”
You rolled your eyes, missing the deeper meaning in his words, as usual. “Right. Well, the view can help me with these baskets if it’s not too busy.”
Logan chuckled softly, walking over to you and easily taking one of the baskets from your hands. “You got it, doll. I’ll lend a hand.”
Together, you made your way toward the mansion, the quiet of the late afternoon settling around you. It was peaceful, in that way you liked—just the sound of your footsteps on the gravel path, the faint rustle of leaves in the distance, and the low hum of the cicadas in the trees. Logan had quickly thrown away the weeds and rejoined you, taking the other basket out of your hand, saying something about how he was ‘being a gentleman.’
You both entered the mansion from the back door, making your way to the kitchen where Logan placed the baskets on the island. Jean and Scott were already in there, Jean making her way over to the two baskets.
You, having an inkling for what she was looking for, reached into one of the baskets and pulled out the 3 kiwis. You handed the kiwis over to Jean, a smile playing on your lips as she quickly clutched them to her chest, almost like they were gold. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this, and it always amused you. Scott, of course, tried to intervene, reaching out to snatch one, but Jean shot him a look that was part-serious, part-playful.
“Hey, those are for me,” she said, moving slightly to block Scott’s hand. “I’ve been waiting for these kiwis all week.”
Scott smirked but backed off, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side, babe.”
Jean gave him a victorious smile, then turned to you. “Thanks, Y/N. You always come through with the best fruit.”
“Of course,” you replied, wiping your hands on a nearby towel. “You’ve been asking for kiwis since the season started, so I figured it was about time I delivered.”
Logan, still standing nearby, watched the interaction with a subtle smirk on his face. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, looking completely relaxed but attentive.
“You sure know how to make people happy, doll,” Logan said, his voice low but teasing. “Always goin’ above and beyond for everyone.”
You shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal. “It’s just a few kiwis, Logan. Nothing special.”
Jean, now satisfied with her prized fruit, glanced between the two of you with a curious look, sensing something in Logan’s tone. She had noticed the way he’d been hanging around you more than usual lately, and it wasn’t hard to pick up on the little glances he threw your way when you weren’t looking. Of course, you remained blissfully unaware of it all, as always.
“You’re selling yourself short,” Jean said, throwing you a grin. “It’s not just the kiwis. You’ve practically turned the greenhouse into a mini-Eden. We all appreciate it, even if Scott can’t admit he’s jealous of my fruit.”
Scott rolled his eyes, but his smile betrayed him. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the garden, Y/N.”
You smiled at the compliment, though it didn’t feel like anything out of the ordinary to you. Taking care of the plants, helping out with the students, it was all part of your routine. You liked it that way—predictable, manageable. You didn’t dwell on the subtleties of interpersonal dynamics the way others seemed to.
Logan’s smirk widened slightly at Jean’s comment, but he kept quiet, watching you interact with the others. There was something about the way you brushed off compliments so easily, like you didn’t quite grasp how much people appreciated you around here.
You had already put a few strawberries in a glass bowl, making your way out of the kitchen to Ororo’s office without saying a word, something they were already used to.
“You sure you’re not going to say anything? You know, that’s actually straight to the point?” Jean asked Logan.
Scott reached into one of the baskets, pulling out a few blueberries, “at this point, you’re like a love-sick puppy following her around.”
Logan let out a low growl, plucking a strawberry out from the basket. “Keep talking dickhead.” He threatened.
Jean raised an eyebrow as she leaned against the counter, her sharp eyes flicking between Logan and Scott. "He’s not wrong though, Logan. You’ve been spending more time with Y/N than usual. We’ve all noticed."
Logan grunted, pushing himself off the counter and crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "She’s a good kid. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on her."
Scott smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Right, keepin' an eye on her. That's what we’re calling it now?"
Jean shot Scott a playful glare, but her attention quickly shifted back to Logan. “You know, you could just tell her how you feel. She’s oblivious, but she’s not stupid. Sooner or later, she’s going to notice.”
Logan’s jaw tightened, and he glanced toward the door where you had just left. His emotions were complicated—he’d never been one for opening up, and the idea of confessing anything, especially something as vulnerable as his feelings for you, wasn’t exactly in his comfort zone. He had been through too much, lost too many people, and the thought of letting himself get close to someone again... well, it scared him more than he cared to admit.
“She’s got her own life,” Logan muttered, his voice gruff but softer now. “I ain’t lookin’ to mess that up.”
Jean sighed, walking over to stand next to Logan, her tone gentle but firm. “Logan, you’re not messing anything up. In fact, I think you’d be adding something important to her life. She’s not the type to see you as a burden or a distraction. She probably wouldn’t even realize you were flirting with her until you hit her over the head with it.”
Logan huffed a half-hearted laugh, but the tension in his shoulders remained. “Maybe that’s the problem. She’s too damn focused on other stuff to even see it.”
Jean smiled softly, placing a hand on Logan’s arm. “That’s what makes her so special, Logan. She’s genuine, selfless, and probably the least manipulative person in this mansion. She doesn’t play games—what you see is what you get. And she likes you, even if she doesn’t realize it in the same way you do yet.”
Scott, still lounging in his chair, added, “Plus, you know, if you wait too long, someone else might catch her eye. Just sayin’.”
Logan shot Scott a glare that could have melted steel. “Ain’t nobody else gonna catch her eye, Summers. Trust me on that.”
Jean chuckled softly, giving Logan’s arm a reassuring squeeze before stepping back. “Well, when you’re ready, just remember—it’s okay to take a chance on her. You might be surprised by how things turn out.”
Logan didn’t respond right away, his mind already spinning with conflicting thoughts. He appreciated Jean’s support, but the fear of rejection, of losing someone else important to him, gnawed at his insides. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it again. And what if telling you how he felt ruined the easy, comfortable dynamic you two had? What if he lost the one person in the mansion who treated him like a normal man instead of a gruff, dangerous mutant?
Jean and Scott exchanged a knowing glance, but they let Logan mull over his thoughts in silence. They could push him only so far before it was up to him to take the next step.
---
You were walking down the halls with your bag in over your shoulder, all you needed to do was get to your office and take these heels off.
They looked cute online, not too tall or high, had some cushion on the soles, but wearing them was a completely different story. Which was sad because they were a cute baby pink which went well with your button up baby pink cardigan and white jeans.
But your office seemed so far away with the stabbing pain in your feet, luckily the halls were empty since most of the students were in their rooms doing homework or relaxing before dinner.
Having enough of the pain, you crouched down to unbuckle your heels, your bag moving down your shoulder to your elbow.
“Need any help, princess?”
You looked up at the sound of the voice, even though you knew exactly who it was.
Logan stood there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His eyes flicked down to your shoes before meeting your gaze again, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Need any help, princess?” His voice was low and casual, but that nickname—'princess’—it was just one of the many he’d taken to using when he spoke to you. Although you hadn’t heard this one before.
You shifted your bag back up on your shoulder and continued unbuckling the second heel. “I’ve got it, thanks,” you replied, not thinking too much of his presence. You’d known Logan long enough to realize he had a habit of showing up when you least expected him to.
He made a small grunt, as if to say ‘suit yourself,’ and watched as you continued to try and unbuckle the second one, but it looked like the strap was giving you a hard time.
Logan kneeled down in front of you without a word as you moved your hands away. You were smart enough to know that you weren’t exactly in the best position to unbuckle your heels, you usually did it when you were sitting down, not crouching in the middle of a hallway.
He easily unbuckled it and helped you slip out of the heels, your feet hitting the cool floor. You mumbled a thanks as his hand trailed up your calf with a feather light touch before standing up. Your heels were in one of his hands as he easily picked you up with one arm, carrying you bridal style.
You let out a small shriek of surprise, your arms instinctively going around Logan’s neck as he scooped you up with one arm, heels dangling from his other hand.
"Hey! I can walk!" you protested, more flustered than anything else. You were completely capable of walking, sore feet or not, but now you were cradled in Logan’s arms like a princess in some old fairy tale.
Logan's smirk widened, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Not fast enough, sweetheart," he teased, carrying you effortlessly down the hall. His voice was deep, a hint of amusement in his tone, and it made your cheeks heat up slightly, though you quickly tried to brush it off.
You rolled your eyes, not really sure how to argue back. "I’m pretty sure this is unnecessary," you muttered, though your voice didn’t sound all that convincing even to you.
"Necessary or not, you're gonna let me carry you," he shot back, glancing down at you with a playful gleam in his eye. "Besides, I don’t mind."
You huffed in mock defiance, but you didn’t exactly push him to put you down either. In fact, being carried by Logan felt…nice. Comfortable, even. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud. And it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d done this.
As the two of you continued down the hallway, you couldn’t help but notice the way his grip was firm but gentle, his arms strong and steady. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen how built he was, but somehow, it always seemed to surprise you.
"You know, this could’ve been avoided if I’d just worn normal shoes," you grumbled, trying to distract yourself from the way your heart was beating a little too fast.
Logan chuckled softly, that gravelly sound that always seemed to resonate in your chest. "Doll, I’ve seen you rock combat boots and still look like you’re ready for a photoshoot. But those heels…" He raised an eyebrow at the pink shoes still in his hand. "Yeah, maybe not your best choice."
You frowned slightly, glancing at the heels. "They looked good online…"
He grinned, amused. "You got catfished by shoes?"
"I didn’t get catfished!" you retorted, though you couldn’t help but laugh. "They’re cute! Just not comfortable."
Logan made a noncommittal sound, clearly not convinced by your argument. But he didn’t press it further, instead shifting you slightly in his arms as he approached your office door.
"Want me to break down the door for you, too, princess? Or can you manage the key?" he asked with a teasing glint in his eyes, looking down at you like you were some helpless damsel.
"I’ve got it," you replied quickly, reaching into your bag for your keys. "And stop calling me princess." The nickname felt weird, it made your heart beat faster and you skin flush more than the other nicknames he called you.
But Logan just smirked, clearly unbothered. "Sure thing, sweetheart."
You couldn’t stop the little sigh that escaped you as you unlocked the door and pushed it open. Logan stepped inside, gently setting you down on your feet.
As soon as you were standing, you felt the cool air against your now bare feet, and it was an instant relief from the torture those heels had put you through. You moved to put your heels down by your desk, but Logan still had them in his hand.
"You know I can take those now," you said, holding out your hand expectantly.
Logan eyed the heels for a moment, then handed them over. "You really should burn 'em, doll," he said in that same teasing tone, watching you place them on the floor.
"I’m not burning them," you replied, shaking your head. "They’re not that bad. I just…need to break them in."
Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe now, watching you with that amused smirk still playing on his lips. "Or you could just stick to boots."
"Maybe I like being fashionable sometimes," you shot back, raising an eyebrow at him as you plopped down into your office chair. Your fingers brushed your hair back from your face, and you let out a small, satisfied sigh now that you were sitting down.
"Fashionable, sure," Logan said, his voice a low rumble. "But at what cost?"
You shot him a look but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It was hard to stay annoyed when Logan was like this—playful, relaxed, his rough edges softened just enough to make you feel like he actually cared.
"Anyway, shouldn’t you be out doing something more...Logan-like?" you asked, leaning back in your chair, arms crossing over your chest.
Logan raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
"I don't know, brooding? Scowling at someone?"
His lips twitched, clearly suppressing a smirk. "Maybe I’m just waiting for you to ask me to carry you again."
You rolled your eyes, fighting the warmth creeping into your cheeks. "Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath."
He chuckled, that deep, gravelly sound filling the small office. He didn’t say anything after that, just leaned against the door, arms crossed as he watched you settle in. The silence was comfortable, but it made you hyperaware of him—of the way his presence seemed to take up more space than it should.
You busied yourself with pulling out some notes from your bag, pretending you weren’t fully aware of how Logan’s eyes followed your every movement. It was strange, but also kind of…nice? Logan wasn’t like other guys. He wasn’t intimidated by your intelligence or the fact that you could talk circles around most people in the room. In fact, he seemed to like it, even if he teased you about it sometimes.
"Alright, well, thanks for the…uh, assistance," you said, breaking the silence and giving him a small, awkward smile. "I think I’m good now."
Logan didn’t move right away. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he pushed himself off the doorframe. "Anytime, sweetheart."
And with that, he turned and walked out of your office, leaving you with your thoughts—and the faintest trace of a smirk on your face.
---
Every so often, you would have a baking day to use up some of the fruits efficiently. Some of the students would join you in the large kitchen, doing their best to help you by carefully following your instructions.
Some of them, particularly the older ones, would cut up some of the fruit, like strawberries, apples, and peaches. The others would measure the ingredients and put them in a mixing bowl before combining it all together to make a dough.
This time, you were striving to make a few blueberry pies, a large dish of peach cobbler, apple strudels, and some strawberry puff pastries.
Baking was something you enjoyed, but never really did in college. You usually were busier with labs and theses rather than cooking or baking. You practically lived off take out and dining hall food. But since you’ve been here for the past year, you’ve already held 4 sessions, including this one.
“Careful with those strawberries,” you said to a student named Ben, who was chopping up the fruit with a little too much enthusiasm. “We need them in slices, not chunks.”
“Sorry, Y/N,” he mumbled, quickly adjusting his technique.
You smiled softly and moved to check on the other group, who were working on the dough for the pies. A girl named Emily was measuring out the flour, carefully following the recipe you’d written down.
"How’s it going over here?" you asked, watching as she sifted the flour into a bowl.
“Good, I think,” Emily said, glancing up at you nervously. “Is this enough?”
You nodded. "Looks perfect. Just remember to mix it slowly so the flour doesn’t go everywhere."
Emily gave you a grateful smile before continuing her work. You loved these baking sessions. It was a great way to bond with the students and also let them explore a more creative side outside of their classes. Plus, it gave you a break from the constant intellectual challenges of your usual work.
Logan wandered into the kitchen a little while later, casually leaning against the doorframe as he watched the controlled chaos. Ororo and Jean were already in the kitchen, watching from the sidelines nursing a glass of a bubbly pink drink.
He couldn’t help but think about how pretty you looked, you were wearing a pastel purple sundress with a light green apron with vines and flowers embroidered on it.
The sight made him smirk—something about you baking in a kitchen full of teenagers, in your floral apron, amused him. It was such a stark contrast to your usual intellectual, no-nonsense attitude.
“Whatcha got cookin’, sweetheart?” Logan’s gruff voice broke the bustling sounds of mixing and chopping.
You didn’t glance up, too focused on guiding Emily through making the pie dough. "Just baking some pies and pastries. Using up the leftover fruit. Do you want some?" you asked casually, not thinking too much about the fact that Logan was watching you.
Logan shrugged, stepping further into the kitchen. “Depends. Is it any good?”
You finally looked up, raising an eyebrow at him. “You doubt my baking skills?”
He chuckled lowly, leaning against the counter now, close enough to see what you were working on. “Wouldn’t call it doubt, doll. Just curious.”
You gave him a small smirk, hands moving skillfully as you finished helping Emily measure the remaining ingredients. "You’ll have to wait until they’re done to find out."
One of the students, Ben, interrupted, grinning as he wiped flour off his hands. "Y/N’s baking is the best! She made these strawberry scones last time—they were gone in like ten minutes."
Logan raised an eyebrow, giving you a teasing glance. "Impressive, princess. Maybe I will stick around."
You rolled your eyes at the nickname but didn’t comment. Instead, you turned back to Emily, helping her roll out the dough. It wasn’t that you didn’t notice Logan's teasing, it was just that you didn’t think much of it. Guys didn’t usually flirt with you. At least not seriously. Most found your intelligence intimidating, or they simply saw you as ‘one of the guys.’ Logan’s pet names, in your mind, were just part of his rough-and-tumble personality, nothing more.
But Logan, on the other hand, found your obliviousness endearing. The fact that you didn’t seem to realize he was flirting with you only made him try harder, though he kept it casual enough not to push you away. He liked the challenge.
“You need any help?” Logan offered, gesturing toward the fruit Ben was chopping haphazardly.
“You’re not gonna burn the kitchen down?” you teased, wiping your hands on your apron before reaching for a bowl.
“I think I can handle it,” Logan said, a grin tugging at his lips.
You handed him a knife, showing him how to properly slice the strawberries. “Here, like this. We need them thin for the pastries.”
You held out the knife for him, and instead of coming up beside you like you assumed he would, he stood behind you, his chest against your back, practically caging you in between him and the counter.
He could hear your heart beat faster as he cut a few slices of the strawberry, asking, "That good enough for you, sweetheart?"
His voice was low, and you could feel his breath near your ear, but you were too focused on the task at hand to fully process the closeness. You glanced at the thinly sliced strawberries, nodding absentmindedly.
"Yeah, that’s perfect," you mumbled, moving slightly away to give yourself more room to breathe, though you didn’t realize why. "Just need a few more for the pastries."
Logan continued slicing, his movements precise, though his presence remained solid and grounding behind you. You were used to people standing close when you worked in the lab or in class—tight spaces, shared equipment, it came with the territory. But this was different. Logan’s proximity felt… intense in a way you couldn’t quite pinpoint.
"So, how long you been doin' this?" Logan asked casually, his voice breaking through your thoughts as he finished up with the strawberries.
You blinked, taking a second to register the question. "Baking? Oh, I don’t know… when I was a kid? I just started because it’s a nice break from… everything I guess.”
Jean and Ororo continued to drink their glass of champagne when Scott walked in, placing an arm around Jean’s waist as they watched the scene. “Think she’ll finally realize,” he asked.
Ororo gave a small grin and shrugged, “who knows? But Logan’s certainly getting bolder.”
Jean shook her head, “I told him to talk to her and say exactly what he was feeling, but turns out he still hasn’t taken my advice.”
Ororo chuckled as she took a slow sip of her drink, her gaze flicking back to the kitchen scene unfolding in front of them. "Well, you know Logan. Subtlety isn’t exactly his strong suit."
Scott smirked as he stood next to Jean, his arm still comfortably draped around her waist. "Yeah, but subtlety doesn’t seem to be the problem here," he said, eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched Logan hover around you. "He’s not exactly hiding it."
Ororo tilted her head, amused by how oblivious you remained despite Logan’s efforts. It wasn’t that you were unobservant; you were incredibly sharp—when it came to science, mechanics, and even battle tactics. But personal matters? Especially the ones involving yourself? Not so much.
"Poor girl," Ororo mused, shaking her head. "She’s a genius, but this…" She waved a hand in Logan’s direction. "This seems to be one thing she’s totally clueless about."
Jean smiled sympathetically. "She’s not used to people flirting with her. I mean, guys either get intimidated by her brain, or they just see her as a fellow intellectual, not… you know, a woman."
Ororo raised an eyebrow, her expression thoughtful. "Well, Logan clearly sees her as a woman. He’s made that much obvious. But I wonder how long it’ll take for her to figure it out."
Jean laughed softly. "At this rate? It might take a while."
The three of them watched with growing curiosity as Logan stood there, his broad shoulders and rough demeanor somehow fitting perfectly in the domestic scene of baking pastries with students. You, on the other hand, were entirely focused on getting the strawberry puff pastries just right, completely unaware of how closely Logan was watching you—or how he lingered longer than necessary when he handed you the knife, or how his teasing nicknames held a deeper meaning.
"She’s too smart for her own good," Scott added, shaking his head with a chuckle. "But when it comes to this, she's got blind spots."
Jean nodded in agreement. "Y/N is convinced she knows everything—and to be fair, she does know a lot—but she’s missing the whole picture here."
---
After Logan’s stunt on baking day, he wondered just how much further he could go. Sure, he could take Jean’s advice and outright tell you, but he also liked seeing you riled up and confused by his words and actions.
Like a few days ago, all he did was pull out your chair at dinner with the rest of the group and you just stood there, confused by the gesture. It took a few moments for you to understand and finally sit down before he pushed the chair closer to the table for you.
Or now, they were having a briefing, or meeting, about God knows what, most of everybody seated. You and Ororo were the last people to come in, aside from Charles. Ororo went to sit down at an open seat and as you looked around you came to the conclusion that there weren’t any other chairs available.
You were content with the fact that you were going to stand for the short meeting, as you found a spot to stand at the opposite end of the large round table, close to Logan.
“C’mere doll.” Logan said, lazily gesturing for you to come closer.
You hesitantly did, stopping next to his chair, your knee brushing his thigh. “What?”
He patted his thigh, “I don’t bite.”
Your eyes widened, a cute, innocent expression that he enjoyed seeing on your face, as you looked around the room. “I, uh- ”
Logan’s smirk widened, clearly finding your hesitation endearing. He patted his lap again, his eyes glinting with a teasing light. “C’mon, doll. Don’t be shy. There’s a perfectly good seat right here.”
You hesitated, your brain racing to process the situation. It wasn’t exactly appropriate for a professional setting, but you were running out of options. The only other seats were either taken or a bit too far from the discussion table. With a small sigh, you decided to give in. You didn’t want to stand for the entire meeting, and it was just one of those moments where you had to roll with it.
“Alright,” you said. You shot a glance around the room, but most people were already absorbed in their conversations or taking notes. You gingerly sat down on the edge of his lap, trying to maintain a sense of propriety despite the awkwardness of the situation.
Logan’s arm naturally wrapped around your waist to stabilize you, but he didn’t say anything as you settled. You could feel his warmth radiating through his leather jacket, and it was strangely comforting despite the unusual circumstances. He leaned in slightly, his breath tickling your ear as he whispered, “You alright there, sweetheart?”
You nodded, trying to focus on the meeting but acutely aware of how close he was. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, though you could feel your cheeks warming slightly. “Just trying to get comfortable.”
Logan chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through his chest and making you shift just a bit closer. His hand rested lightly on your hip, not too firm but enough to make you acutely aware of his presence. You tried to ignore it and concentrate on the meeting, but his proximity made that task rather difficult.
The meeting continued, with Charles and the others discussing various topics related to ongoing projects and missions. Logan’s hand on your hip was a constant reminder of his presence, but he remained quiet, only chiming in occasionally with his usual gruff comments or suggestions.
---
At breakfast one day, you were sitting with Hank talking about the project you two were working on that was finally getting somewhere. You had finally been able to stabilize the energy output and now you two were talking about what to do next.
Logan sipped his coffee, looking at your from afar. As always, you were dressed cute today. You were wearing a light blue sweater with a pair of your skinny jeans and white flats, paired with matching drop earrings.
Ororo and Jean came up beside him, the former tsking. Ororo gave Logan a knowing look, crossing her arms. "You still at it, huh?" she teased, nodding in your direction.
Logan grunted but didn't respond immediately, sipping his coffee as he watched you and Hank animatedly discuss your project. You were explaining something with such enthusiasm, using your hands to gesture wildly, that it made him smirk. The light blue sweater you wore today only added to the adorable vibe you unknowingly radiated.
Jean nudged him lightly. "Nine months, Logan. Nine months of flirting, and she’s still completely oblivious." She shook her head, amused.
"She’s a genius, remember?" Ororo said, raising an eyebrow. "She’s supposed to know everything."
Logan snorted, finally setting his coffee down. "Well, she clearly doesn’t know this. And I’m in no rush to tell her." He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His eyes didn’t leave you, even as the conversation between Hank and you grew more intense.
Jean chuckled. "It's kinda cute, though. Watching her get all flustered whenever you call her those names, like she’s completely missing the point."
"I know," Logan muttered with a grin. "She gets that little furrow in her brow, like she’s trying to figure it out, but then brushes it off. She’s too wrapped up in all her fancy projects and theories."
Ororo shook her head in disbelief. "You’ve got the patience of a saint. Most people would’ve given up by now."
Logan shrugged, glancing at Ororo. "Ain’t in any hurry. She’s worth the wait."
Jean smiled softly at that, then sighed. "Well, good luck. Maybe one day she’ll actually catch on."
As if on cue, you let out a triumphant laugh from across the room, and Logan’s attention immediately shifted back to you. You had a bright smile on your face, clearly excited about whatever breakthrough you and Hank had just made.
"You’re like a moth to a flame," Ororo muttered under her breath with a smirk, walking off with Jean to sit down.
Logan ignored her, his eyes still locked on you as you gathered up some papers and started to walk toward the exit. As you passed him, he casually stuck his leg out just enough that you had to stop short to avoid tripping.
“Logan!” you exclaimed, looking down at his leg and then up at him with confusion.
He raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of his coffee. "Mornin', sweetheart."
You blinked at him, clearly thrown off for a moment. "Uh, morning." You shifted the stack of papers in your arms. "Why’d you—"
"Just wanted to say good job," he interrupted, nodding toward the papers in your hand. "Whatever you and Hank were talkin’ about over there seemed pretty important."
Your face lit up at the mention of your project, and you immediately launched into an explanation, completely forgetting about Logan's odd behavior. "Oh, yeah! We finally stabilized the energy output! It’s been driving us crazy for weeks, but we think we’ve figured out how to—"
Logan barely paid attention to the technical jargon that followed, more focused on the way your eyes sparkled as you talked, your excitement contagious. He gave a few gruff nods, pretending to follow along, but it was the way you lit up when you were passionate about something that kept him hooked.
"You’re incredible, you know that?" he said once you finished, his voice low and serious.
You blinked, taken aback. "Uh, what?"
"I said you’re incredible." He repeated, his gaze locking onto yours. "Smart, talented, and cute as a button. Gotta give credit where it’s due."
Your cheeks flushed pink, and you quickly looked down at the papers in your arms. "Oh, um, thanks, Logan," you mumbled, completely missing the deeper implication of his words, as usual. "I... I should probably get these to the lab. We need to review them before the next phase."
"Of course," Logan said, his smirk widening as he watched you stumble over your words. "But don’t forget to take a break, doll. All work and no play ain’t good for anyone."
"Right," you said, nodding as you hurried off, your mind already shifting back to your project, completely oblivious to the playful grin on Logan's face.
---
“You’ve never even been clubbing!?” Ororo exclaimed, holding up a finger to stop you from saying anything. “And you know I’m not talking about something like a ‘gardening club’.”
“And you have?” You asked, sitting on your bed as Jean looked through your closet.
Ororo laughed, shaking her head at your naivety. “Oh, Y/N, honey, I’ve been out dancing plenty of times. Clubbing is one of those things you just have to experience.”
Jean, still rummaging through your closet, chimed in, "She’s right, Y/N. It's fun to get out of the lab once in a while and let loose. You spend so much time buried in your work. You deserve a break."
You sighed, sinking back onto the bed. "I don’t know… It just seems like a waste of time. We could watch a movie, drink some wine, and call it a night."
Ororo leaned against your dresser, crossing her arms. "You can’t hide behind your projects forever, Flora. You need to socialize, let your hair down." She smirked, looking at you pointedly. "You never know, maybe someone will finally catch your eye."
You furrowed your brow, unconvinced. "Like who?"
Jean shared a knowing look with Ororo before turning to face you, holding up a dress you’d forgotten you owned. “Who knows? There could be someone at the club. Or maybe someone you’ve been completely blind to.”
Ororo raised an eyebrow and added, "Someone who’s been giving you attention for months, perhaps."
Your eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
Jean grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she held up the dress in front of you. "Nothing, just an observation. Now, come on, put this on. Let’s see how it looks."
You sighed, getting off the bed and taking the dress from Jean’s hands. "I still don’t get what the big deal is. I’m perfectly fine without this whole clubbing thing."
Ororo smirked, stepping toward the door. “Trust us. You’ll thank us later.”
---
A few hours later, you found yourself standing outside one of the busiest clubs in the city, feeling slightly out of place in the dress Jean had picked out for you. The music thumped from inside the building, the bass reverberating through the sidewalk as people lined up to get in. You stood between Jean and Ororo, who both looked far more comfortable in their outfits than you felt in yours.
"I can’t believe you guys convinced me to come," you muttered under your breath, shifting on your feet as you glanced at the line of people ahead.
Jean grinned, looping her arm through yours. "You’re going to have fun. Trust me. It’s a nice change of pace."
Ororo nodded in agreement. "Plus, you deserve a night out. You’ve been working hard."
As you were about to respond, the doors of the club swung open, and you were hit with a blast of cool air mixed with the sound of thumping music. The bouncer waved the three of you in without a second glance, and before you knew it, you were inside, the lights flashing and the crowd buzzing with energy.
You followed Jean and Ororo through the throngs of people, weaving through the packed dance floor until you reached the bar. The atmosphere was unlike anything you were used to—loud, chaotic, and a little overwhelming. You weren’t sure how you felt about it yet.
Ororo leaned against the bar, ordering drinks while Jean turned to you with a grin. "What do you think so far?"
You shrugged, glancing around. "It’s... different."
"Just give it a chance," Jean said, patting your arm. "Once you get a drink in you and loosen up a bit, you’ll feel better."
The bartender handed Ororo three drinks, and she passed one to you with a wink. "To new experiences, Flora."
You hesitated for a moment before raising your glass. "To new experiences, I guess."
The three of you clinked glasses, and you took a sip, feeling the warmth of the alcohol start to settle in. Maybe this night wouldn’t be so bad after all.
---
An expensive Uber trip later and you three were back at the mansion at 4 in the morning. Luckily it was Friday, or Saturday now, so there was no need to worry about being hungover for classes.
You don’t think you’ve ever drank that much alcohol, but to be fair, you must have a really low tolerance since you never partied in college, other than the occasional glass of wine.
So, drinking around 5 or 6 fruity cocktails surely made you see things differently. Maybe just a tad bit too blurry and clumsy.
You fumbled with your keys at the mansion door, Jean giggling behind you. “Here, let me help,” she offered, her hands steadier than yours as she took the keys and unlocked the door with ease.
“I’m fine, Jean!” you protested with a laugh, swaying slightly as you stepped inside. You weren’t used to feeling so... unbalanced. Everything seemed lighter, funnier, and a little more ridiculous after the alcohol. You were starting to understand why people did this more often.
Ororo walked in behind you, shaking her head but smiling. “Maybe next time we won’t let you have quite so many drinks,” she teased, gently guiding you toward the living room. “You’re gonna feel this tomorrow.”
“I’m a genius,” you declared, holding your head high in mock dignity, “I’ll be fine.”
Jean snorted, flopping onto the couch. “Oh yeah? Even geniuses can’t outsmart a hangover.”
You waved her off, settling into a chair, only to realize it was far too squishy, causing you to slide right down onto the floor. You stared at it for a second, then burst out laughing. “Who put a trap here?”
Ororo and Jean were in hysterics now, and even though your head was spinning, you couldn’t help but join in.
“You know,” Ororo started between giggles, “for someone who knows everything, you sure don’t know how to handle a drink.”
You narrowed your eyes at her, or at least tried to. “It’s... an anomaly. Unpredictable variables.”
“Right,” Jean said, leaning back with a grin, “just like Logan’s flirting.”
You blinked, the name snapping you out of your drunken haze for a second. “Logan’s what?”
Ororo and Jean exchanged glances before looking back at you, their smiles widening.
“His flirting,” Jean repeated slowly, as if explaining a simple concept.
You squinted, feeling like your brain was moving through molasses. “Flirting? Logan? With me?”
Ororo rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, Y/N. For months. You seriously haven’t noticed?”
You stared at them both, utterly lost. “Flirting? Logan? Are you guys drunk too?”
Jean sighed dramatically, standing up. “I think you’re too far gone to process this tonight.”
You shook your head, still trying to wrap your mind around what they were saying. Logan? Flirting? With you? It didn’t make any sense. Logan was... well, Logan.
Ororo pulled you up from the floor, patting your arm. “Let’s get you to bed. You can overthink this tomorrow.”
---
The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach that felt like it was doing somersaults. Groaning, you dragged yourself out of bed, making a mental note to never drink that much again.
As you made your way to the kitchen, hoping to find coffee and maybe something greasy to settle your stomach, you tried to remember the details from last night. Jean and Ororo had said something about Logan... flirting with you?
You shook your head. That couldn’t be right. Logan wasn’t the type to flirt. He was gruff, tough, and mostly kept to himself. Sure, he called you pet names, but that didn’t mean anything. Right?
Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you sat at the kitchen island, still groggy. You were about to take a sip when you heard the familiar sound of boots approaching.
“Mornin’, doll,” Logan greeted as he walked in, his voice a low rumble.
You looked up at him, your brain still foggy, and for some reason, the word ‘flirting’ popped into your mind again. You stared at him for a moment longer than necessary, your head tilting slightly.
“Uh... morning,” you replied, your voice a little more unsure than usual. You couldn’t stop replaying what Jean and Ororo had said last night. Was this flirting? You eyed Logan, trying to decipher his expression.
He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “You look like hell.”
“Gee, thanks,” you muttered, taking a sip of your coffee. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”
Logan chuckled, that deep, rough sound that always sent a weird shiver down your spine. “Guess you didn’t take my advice about not overdoing it, huh?”
You blinked. “What advice?”
“Last night,” he said, smirking, “told ya not to have too many drinks, sweetheart.”
Your brow furrowed. “Wait, you were there?”
“Yeah,” Logan said, clearly amused. “Passed by when you three were heading out. You looked excited about... whatever the hell it is you get excited about.”
You frowned, trying to remember him saying that. It was all so hazy. Then you shook your head, deciding to just drop it. “Well, I’ll survive.”
Logan gave you a lazy grin. “Tough as nails, aren’t ya?”
You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I guess so.”
There was a moment of silence before Logan pushed off the counter and moved closer. He reached out and gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing your cheek for just a second too long. “Good thing. Wouldn’t want ya to break, sweetheart.”
Your eyes widened, your breath catching in your throat. This was... different. You felt your face heat up, and you quickly turned your attention back to your coffee. “Uh... right.”
Logan’s smirk didn’t fade as he stepped back. “See ya around, darlin’.”
You watched him leave the kitchen, your heart pounding in your chest for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. What was that? Was that what Jean and Ororo had been talking about? Or was it just him being old-fashioned, after all he was over 200 years old, and you were a mere 25. He was the Wolverine, and you were just a young teacher that happened to be an X-Men.
---
It had been a week since you had gone out clubbing with Jean and Ororo and you were too far gone in your own mind. You started observing things more carefully, the way Logan would rest his hand on your lower back when he was walking you to your next class, how he occasionally brought you snacks when you were in the lab, telling Hank that they were only for you, and finally, how he really only called you nicknames.
Ever since that realization, you tried to keep it hidden, to process it on your own. After all, guys didn’t like you. You weren’t exactly the kind of girl they wanted.
Logan noticed how you got more nervous around him, your heart beating faster, how you seemed to stumble over your words more often than not around him. At one point, he asked Jean about it, to which she revealed her and Ororo did what he couldn’t.
He ended up outside of your office, hearing you talk to one of the senior students about which colleges were the best for his major. You assured him that just because it was September, doesn’t mean he’s too late to apply.
Logan knocked on the door as you said that the door was unlocked. He hadn’t seen your outfit today, a white pencil skirt paired with a skintight, long sleeve peach colored shirt. Your hip was leaning against the front of the desk next to where the student was sitting.
Kean looked between the two of you, before quickly gathering his things and the brochures you gave him for various colleges.
"Remember to look into some engineering programs! I’d think they’d be great for you!" You called out after Kean, watching as the student hurried out of your office. The door clicked shut behind him, and you sighed, thinking of the next round of paperwork waiting on your desk. You were about to walk around your desk to sit down when you noticed Logan still standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe, his eyes focused on you in that intense way he often did.
"Sweetheart, got a minute?" Logan's voice was rough, familiar, and held that signature casualness that made it feel like he wasn't really asking.
You blinked, startled for a second before nodding. "Uh, yeah. Sure, Logan. What's up?"
Logan stepped further into the room, his eyes scanning you briefly. "You looked pretty wrapped up in your work. Thought you could use a break."
Your mind raced, suddenly self-conscious. "Yeah, I’ve been helping some of the seniors with their college stuff," you explained, motioning to the brochures still scattered across your desk. "It's that time of year where they start panicking about applications."
Logan smirked, his arms crossing over his chest. "You always keep yourself busy, don’t ya, doll?"
You rolled your lower lip while humming as your answer. You crossed your arms, watching as Logan came closer to you, standing almost toe to toe with your pointy short peach colored heels.
“You finally figured it out then, didn’t ya?” He asked.
“I- well, uh…” you stammered, suddenly feeling heat rush to your face. Why was Logan looking at you like that? And what did he mean by ‘you finally figured it out’? Were Ororo and Jean right?
Logan’s smirk deepened, amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched you fumble over your words. "You’re a genius, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now."
Your heart raced, and you felt your palms start to sweat. Why was he so close? You tried to focus on the conversation, on anything other than how your body was reacting to his presence. "N-noticed what?" you managed to get out, your voice sounding way less composed than you intended.
Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this far more than you were. "How I’ve been flirtin’ with ya for months now," he said casually, as if he were commenting on the weather.
Your brain short-circuited. Flirting? Logan? Flirting? With you? That didn’t make any sense. Logan flirted with women who were… well, not you. He was the rough-around-the-edges kind of guy who went for women who were confident, flirtatious, and knew how to handle someone like him. You were the awkward genius who spent more time in the lab than anywhere else. Guys didn’t flirt with you.
"You’ve been—wait, what?" you asked, blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of what he was saying. "You’ve been flirting with me?"
Logan chuckled, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "Yeah, doll. Pretty sure everyone at the mansion’s noticed by now." His smirk returned as he added, "Except you, apparently."
Your face burned, and you tried to think back. Had he been flirting? The nicknames, the snacks, the casual touches… it all seemed so… normal for Logan. You thought he was just being friendly, maybe a bit protective like he was with some of the younger students.
"I—" You started to say something but stopped, unsure of what exactly to say. You felt like the ground had shifted beneath you. "Why didn’t anyone tell me?"
Logan shrugged. "Didn’t think it was their place. Figured you’d catch on eventually." His gaze softened, and he added, "Didn’t expect you to be this oblivious, though. Kinda cute."
You were sure your face couldn’t get any redder. "I’m not… I’m not oblivious," you mumbled, crossing your arms defensively. "I just didn’t think you’d be interested in someone like me."
Logan’s eyebrows shot up. "And why the hell not?"
"Because I’m… me!" You motioned to yourself, like that explained everything. "Guys don’t flirt with me, Logan. They’re usually intimidated or just… I don’t know. I’m not the kind of girl guys like."
You didn’t have any friends until you came here, which was sad because you were 24 when you finally had some.
Sure, you tried to make some during college, joined the gardening club and the astronomy club, but whenever you talked people would never really listen to you.
You even tried going on a few dates with some guys from online dating apps. They were your age, but they were in their third year of college while you were already working on two master’s degrees. You even had similarities with a few of them.
One guy liked Star Wars, and you went into a short rant about how the physics of it was wrong and even talked about a bunch of the lore behind it. Same with the other 2 dates you went on, they were all one and done.
Guys didn’t like you. That’s just the way it was.
Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, doll. You think guys don’t notice you?”
You crossed your arms, feeling defensive again. “I don’t think, I know. Trust me, I’ve tried.” You paused, hesitating before you added, “I’m not exactly… good at this kind of thing. Social stuff, I mean. I’m better at figuring out equations than people.”
Logan stepped closer, so close that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. “You’re wrong, sweetheart,” he said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You’ve got this idea in your head that no one’s gonna want you because you’re too smart or too different, but that ain’t true. Not even close.”
You blinked up at him, unsure of how to respond. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach flutter in a way that felt both exciting and terrifying. “I just… I don’t see why you’d be interested in me,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re Logan. You could have anyone.”
Logan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, but I don’t want just anyone.” His eyes locked onto yours, his tone becoming serious. “I want you.”
Your heart nearly stopped in your chest. You had no idea what to say. Logan had been flirting with you—Logan, the gruff, no-nonsense guy you’d come to admire over the past year—and you’d been completely clueless. How could someone like him, someone who seemed so out of your league, be interested in you?
“I… I don’t understand,” you mumbled, still struggling to process everything. “Why me?”
Logan sighed, as if he had been waiting for this question for months. “Because you’re brilliant, Y/N. You’ve got this fire in you, this passion for everything you do. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and you don’t let anyone push you around. And you’re so damn kind, even when you don’t have to be.” He ran a hand through his hair, as if trying to gather his thoughts. “You’ve got no idea how many times I’ve wanted to tell you, but… well, you’re not exactly the easiest person to talk to about feelings.”
You blinked. “I’m not?”
Logan smirked. “No, sweetheart, you’re not. You overthink everything. Makes it kinda hard to tell you I like you without you analyzing it to death.”
You bit your lip, feeling a mix of embarrassment and disbelief. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, not really knowing what else to say. “I just didn’t think you… I didn’t think anyone would… you know.”
Logan stepped even closer, so close that you had to sit on the edge of your desk. “Well, I do,” he said, his voice low. “And I’ve been waitin’ for you to figure it out.”
You stared up at him, your mind still reeling. All this time, Logan had been flirting with you, had liked you, and you hadn’t noticed. And now, here he was, standing so close you could feel his breath on your skin, telling you exactly how he felt. It was overwhelming, to say the least.
"Logan, I…" you started, but the words got caught in your throat. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to something like this. Part of you wanted to brush it off as some kind of misunderstanding, but the way he was looking at you, the way he had always looked at you, made it clear that this wasn’t a joke or a misunderstanding.
He really liked you.
Logan smirked at your silence, clearly amused by how flustered you were. "Speechless, huh? That’s a first," he teased, his voice low and rough in that way that made your stomach flip.
You shook your head, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "It’s just… I didn’t think you’d be interested in someone like me. You’re Logan, and I’m…" You gestured to yourself awkwardly. "Me."
Logan frowned slightly, his brows pulling together. "What the hell’s that supposed to mean?"
You shrugged in response, turning your head downward to look down at your lap. It didn’t last long, because Logan put his thumb on your chin, turning your head upright to look at him.
He noticed your expression change, you were someone who was easy to read, never really kept her emotions hidden well, or at least not to him. You went from big doe eyes and sad, pouty lips to flustered. Your eyes were curious and almost nervous and your pink lips, courtesy of the colored lip balm you always wore, were slightly parted.
Logan held your gaze, his thumb gently resting on your chin, and you couldn’t help but feel your pulse quicken under his touch. He was so close now, close enough that the musky scent of him was filling your senses, making it even harder to think clearly.
"You really think I’d waste my time on someone I didn’t want?" Logan’s voice was low, gruff, but there was a softness to it that you hadn’t heard before.
You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The words were jumbled in your mind, and all you could focus on was the way his rough fingers were still holding your chin, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. The confidence he exuded was overwhelming. How could he be so sure, so calm, while you felt like your brain was on fire?
"Logan, I…" you trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his hand, the warmth of his body so close—it was too much.
He let out a soft chuckle, clearly amused by how flustered you were. "Doll, you’re overthinking again."
Your lips pressed together into a thin line as you tried to get a handle on your spiraling thoughts. "I’m just… surprised. I didn’t think…" You hesitated, the words feeling clumsy in your mouth. His thumb moved slightly up, still holding onto your chin but now brushing against your lower lip, making it more difficult to concentrate or come up with a single coherent thought.
No one had ever treated you like this, so kindly and… normally. You thought back to the only 3 dates you had ever been on during college, how none of them ever really tried to get to know you, or peel back the layers behind your smarts.
Because you weren’t just smart, you loved gardening, and baking, hell, you even liked to dress cute. And out of all the guys, Logan never treated you like someone different. It was nice to be around someone like that, who embraced who you were rather than try and get you to bury it. Maybe it was his age? You remember reading an article from a psych organization about how younger women like older men because of emotional maturity-
Rough hands cupped your face, bringing you out of your thoughts. “Hey, stop thinkin’. What the hell could you be thinkin’ about right now?”
You gave a shy smile and shook your head gently, his hands still on your face. “Nothin’,” you mumbled, your voice softer than you intended. You tried to play it off like everything was fine, but Logan wasn’t buying it.
Logan’s brow furrowed slightly, his thumb brushing your cheek now. "You’re a terrible liar, sweetheart." His voice was low, that gravelly tone sending shivers down your spine.
You swallowed, your mind still racing as you searched for the right words. "I just… I don’t get why you’d want me," you admitted, your eyes flicking away from his. "You’re this… badass, Logan. You’ve been through so much. You could have anyone."
His hands stayed where they were, his touch gentle but firm as he guided your gaze back to his. "I told you, doll. I don’t want anyone else. I want you."
You blinked up at him, still unsure of how to respond. It felt like your heart was beating out of your chest, and your mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts. On one hand, Logan was the last person you ever thought would have feelings for you. On the other hand, here he was, being painfully honest, and you couldn’t deny the sincerity in his voice.
"I just…" you hesitated, biting your lip, "I don’t know how to do this, Logan. I’m not… I’ve never been good at… people. Relationships. I mean, I’m good at math, science, and solving problems but not—this."
Logan chuckled softly, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "You don’t gotta be good at it, Y/N. You just gotta be you." His voice softened, the teasing tone dropping away as he said, "That’s all I’ve ever wanted."
Your breath caught in your throat. He made it sound so simple, like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was a big deal to you. You hadn’t dated much—hardly at all, if you were being honest. Relationships felt like another complex equation you couldn’t quite solve.
"Logan, I…" you started, but he cut you off, his hands dropping from your face to settle on your hips, pulling you just a little closer.
"You overthinkin’ again?" Logan smirked, one eyebrow raised.
You couldn’t help but smile at that. "Maybe a little," you admitted, your voice quiet. It was hard to concentrate when he was so close, his hands resting on your hips like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"That’s what I thought," Logan muttered, leaning in just enough that his forehead almost touched yours. "You don’t gotta figure everything out right now, doll. Just… let it happen."
You stared at him, your mind whirling. "Let it happen?" you echoed, trying to wrap your head around what he was saying.
"Yeah," Logan said softly, his voice rough but soothing at the same time. "Stop tryin’ to solve it like it’s some kinda problem. Just be with me."
You blinked, your heart doing that weird fluttering thing again. Be with him? It sounded so simple when he said it like that. But you couldn’t help the flood of doubt that kept creeping into your mind. What if you screwed it up? What if you weren’t good enough at this? What if—
Logan’s hands tightened slightly on your hips, and he pulled you closer, cutting off your spiraling thoughts. "Y/N, you’re doin’ it again," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble in the space between you. "You’re thinkin’ too much."
You sighed, biting your lip again. "I can’t help it," you muttered, feeling a little embarrassed. "That’s just how my brain works."
Logan chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "I know, darlin’. But you don’t gotta do that with me."
His words hung in the air, and you found yourself staring at him, completely unsure of what to say next. No one had ever spoken to you like this before. No one had ever made you feel like it was okay to just… be. You were always the smartest person in the room, always expected to have the answers, to be the one in control. But with Logan, it felt different. He didn’t expect you to be anything but yourself.
"I…" You trailed off, your throat tightening. "I don’t know how to not overthink things."
Logan’s smirk softened, and he tilted his head slightly, his eyes warm as they met yours. "Then I’ll just have to distract you, won’t I?"
Before you could even process what he was saying, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in the softest, most unexpected kiss. It was like everything around you froze for a moment, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to catch up with what was happening.
Logan was kissing you.
Logan.
Was kissing.
You.
Your hands moved instinctively to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back. It wasn’t what you expected—nothing in your life had ever felt like this. The warmth, the softness of his lips against yours, the way he held you like you were something precious… it was overwhelming in the best possible way.
If you would’ve told your past self from five years ago, hell, even two months ago, that your first kiss would be with the Wolverine, you would’ve thought it was some grand, cosmic joke. But there you were, hands fisting into Logan’s shirt, his lips gently pressing against yours like this was the most natural thing in the world.
It wasn’t how you’d imagined your first kiss would go. Not that you’d spent a lot of time imagining it—honestly, you’d been too busy with equations, papers, and research to even consider the prospect of someone being interested in you. But if you had pictured it, this wouldn’t have been it. Not with a man like Logan.
His rough hands held you in place, strong but careful, as if he was hyper-aware of how delicate you felt in his grasp. You, who could bend nature to your will, whose intelligence far surpassed anyone’s expectations, felt completely and utterly vulnerable in his arms.
When he pulled back, it wasn’t by much. His forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and slightly uneven. Logan’s lips curved into a smirk, one you could practically feel against your skin.
“Well,” he drawled, voice low and teasing, “that didn’t seem too bad, did it?”
You blinked up at him, still trying to recover from the shock. “I… I don’t—what just happened?”
Logan chuckled softly, his thumbs brushing small circles into your hips, keeping you grounded when your thoughts were spinning out of control. “I just kissed ya, sweetheart. And unless I’m readin’ the situation wrong, you didn’t mind too much.”
Your mind raced, heart hammering in your chest. “No, I—” You paused, biting your lip as you tried to form a coherent thought. “I didn’t mind. It’s just—”
“Just what?” Logan’s voice softened, his expression growing more serious as he studied your face.
“I wasn’t expecting it.” You swallowed, looking away from him for a moment before forcing yourself to meet his eyes again. “I didn’t think someone like you… I mean, I didn’t think you would- I didn’t think anyone would- ”
Logan raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to finish, but when you didn’t, he took a step closer. His hand was still resting on your hip, keeping you anchored to him, and the heat of his body was impossible to ignore. “Didn’t think what, sweetheart?”
You swallowed, feeling the weight of his question press down on you. It was like all the words in your head had turned to static, and you couldn’t figure out how to string a coherent sentence together. "I just… I don’t know," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
Logan’s lips quirked into a small, teasing smile, but his eyes stayed serious. "You don’t know, or you don’t wanna say?"
You bit your lip, your mind still reeling from the kiss. The memory of it—soft, unexpected, but not unwelcome—was playing on a loop in your head. You hadn’t been kissed much, if at all, and the idea that Logan was the one to give you your first real kiss was still something you were trying to process.
But you couldn’t lie, it was nice. You were 25, just had your first kiss, and suddenly you felt like a teenager in a Disney movie.
A grin slipped past your lips. "I just wasn’t expecting you to kiss me, old man," you finally replied, your voice teasing but soft.
Logan’s eyebrows raised, and a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Old man, huh?" he murmured, his voice dipping into that gravelly tone that always made you feel a bit flustered. "Pretty sure that kiss just proved I’ve still got it."
You laughed softly, your hands still fisted in his shirt, though he didn’t seem to mind at all. Logan’s smirk widened at the sound of your laughter, and you could feel the tension in the air start to ease, just a little.
"Yeah, maybe you do," you replied, your voice soft but teasing as you looked up at him, your heart still beating a little too fast from the kiss. "Guess you're not as rusty as I thought."
Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. "Rusty?" he repeated, his voice low and playful, with that gravelly edge that made your stomach flip every time. "You seriously thought I was rusty, sweetheart?"
You shrugged, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite how close he was and how easily he seemed to get under your skin. "I don’t know. I mean, you’re a couple of hundred years old. Thought you might’ve lost your touch."
Logan chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest as he leaned in just a little closer. "Oh, darlin'," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I ain't lost a damn thing."
Your breath caught in your throat, and for a second, you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Logan’s confidence was overwhelming, but it wasn’t just that—there was a tenderness in the way he looked at you, a softness in his touch that made your chest feel tight.
"Okay, okay," you finally muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to deflect some of the attention. "Point taken."
Logan grinned, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. "Good," he said simply, his thumbs brushing lightly over your hips where his hands still rested. "’Cause I don’t wanna hear any more about me bein’ rusty or old. Got it?"
You nodded, biting your lip as you tried not to smile too much. "Got it."
chapter 3 of Sweet Dreams will be up tomorrow!
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine x reader#james howlett x reader#james howlett x you#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett fic
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girl girl hear me out YAPPER GF X REGULUS!! Pls pls pls like u could do anything u wanted with them!!! I have a few ideas (take any or none)
May be she just walks up to him one day like clearly wanting to befriend him cuz she has a lil crush and just starts yapping about how the great hall had her fave pastry for breakfast today and he's so confused but also intrigued and then she starts sitting next to him in classes and asking him to hang out at hogsmead and she just yaps and sometimes she thinks may be he zones out but then he'll bring up this super niche detail she mentioned last time like "hey what happened to that quill you forgot in the potions lecture?"
they r already dating and she worries she's too much energy and talk for him and tries to be quiet and he's just like r u sick? R u mad at me? What's wrong u haven't gone on a 30 min description/rant about ur day
3. May be someone else brings up she talks a lot and Reggie defends her?
you guys really love your bubbly/talkative readers with Regulus, don't you? (so do i); thanks for your request!
Regulus Black x yapper!reader who didn't think he was actually listening
CW: fem!reader, rolling thoughts, brief mention of difficulty making friends, people talking about reader behind her back, swear words (on ellecdc? nooo [sarcasm])
Your family said that you had an incessant need to fill silence from the moment you could talk.
“If there’s a room with our daughter in it, you can be certain that it won’t be quiet.” Your mum had proclaimed as she beamed at you lovingly one day.
While it was certainly a trait that your family had always found rather endearing, you felt that it made it particularly difficult making friends once you began attending Hogwarts.
But the friends you managed to make loved you for it, and they had often stated “you can call her what you want but you can’t call her boring.”
That didn’t mean your other classmates appreciated your stories or tangents, though.
Which is how you ended up serving numerous detentions for speaking during class or lectures and disturbing the students around you, and how you’d been cycled through numerous seat partners in potions class.
And that is how poor Regulus Black ended up stuck sharing a worktable with the likes of you.
He didn’t seem to mind, though. And if he did, well, he certainly never said anything about it.
You were quite sure he tuned you out during your rambles, hardly ever sparing you a glance and keeping his eyes trained on his parchment in front of him as he took dutiful notes during lectures.
Couldn’t be you, however.
No.
You were too busy lamenting about the fact that you couldn’t get more than twenty feet to the mooncalf herd up the hill behind the quidditch pitch before they would all run off. They only came out at night, you see, and you wanted to take some photos of them. Some photos turned into midnight picnics, and picnics turned into sharing apple slices by means of throwing them towards the bug-eyed beasts and watching them argue over the slice until you threw another. But even after feeding them forty seven apples and counting at this point (Winky the house elf from the kitchen was not pleased with you), they still wouldn’t let you get any closer to them.
Your next course of action was to try a smellier and higher value treat; you wondered then if mooncalves could have tuna? Tuna was certainly smelly enough. Well, if you couldn’t entice the mooncalves, you’d certainly entice a cat or two.
You wondered then if mooncalves and cats got along? Kneazles were nearly the same size as the poor beasts, but cats were much smaller. You figured cats would look at a mooncalf the same way they’d look at a goat.
You’d seen a cat ride a goat once, not many people believed you, though. You’d have to learn how to make a pensieve one day just to prove it to everyone. You didn’t much care for goats, though; something about their square pupils seemed alien to you.
Which seemed odd considering there were numerous beasts in the magical world that really were quite alien, yet it was goats that did it for you.
And why were they always associated with the devil? Was it because of the square pupils? Do you think there’d be a book that explained that?
But you didn’t even realise that the period had ended until Regulus stood and collected his books, offering you a curt nod before leaving the classroom.
Fuck….do you think he’d let you copy his notes?
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆
Merlin’s tits, she never stops talking! I feel bad for the poor sod stuck next to her; Black probably wants to avada himself every class. You heard a classmate mutter as you walked to your workbench, movements slowed as you lowered yourself into your chair and tried not to let their words hurt you.
You were used to the comments, you were used to the sentiment honestly; did they think it was easy being you? Did they think you didn’t get tired of listening to yourself too?
Of course you did, it was exhausting; your brain never stopped moving, and apparently, neither did your mouth.
But it did hurt a little, perhaps because Regulus had been quite gracious about it thus far. He had listened to you carry on about the astrological significance of space waste and how that was affecting the magic of the stars. He had listened to you bemoan about the positive impact that centaur migration had on local flora and fauna and how the fencing of fields and forests was going to cause unimaginable damage to the life cycles of such. He also had listened to your morose mooncalf story and the update the next day that you were able to order cans of tuna via owl to the castle.
And he’d not so much as bat an eye at you.
Certainly he’d have said something to you if you bothered him?
Although, perhaps this was why Slughorn put him beside you, because he knew Regulus wouldn’t say anything; had Regulus done something to anger Slughorn? Was placing you beside Regulus less about you driving your seat mates crazy, but more about being a punishment for Regulus?
Well, you couldn’t imagine Regulus had done anything bad enough to deserve a full term with you as a potions partner.
No, you decided, you would not be his punishment.
So when Regulus entered class that day, and Slughorn read out the instructions for today’s potion brew, you resisted the urge to speak.
You were quiet when retrieving your potion ingredients, you were quiet as you checked and double checked the brewing instructions, and you were quiet as you waited for the potion to reach its boiling point.
You actually thought you’d done quite well; you sort of wished you had started a timer, this may very well have been a record for you.
Well, unless sleeping counted. Would sleeping count as being quiet? Oh gods, what if you talked in your sleep too!? You’d have to ask your roommates.
“L/N.” Regulus called as if it hadn’t been the first time he’d done so. “You alright?” He asked, ducking down in an attempt to meet your gaze as you watched a divot appear between his brows.
“Yeah? Why?” You asked, finding yourself furrowing your brows in solidarity; you found Regulus to be too pretty to look so worried.
He shrugged his shoulders and straightened up, though the space between his brows remained divoted. “You’ve been awfully quiet, s’all.” He murmured quietly, and you were surprised to see a dusting of pink on his cheeks.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” You muttered perhaps pointedly; his eyes narrowing to match the furrowed brows.
“Says who?”
Your eyes traitorously darted to the students who had been discussing your habits, and Regulus followed your gaze.
He rolled his eyes and muttered something in French under his breath as he turned his attention back towards your shared potion. “Those tossers are just mad that they have nothing of value to say.”
You more felt than heard a disbelieving breath escape your lips as you looked at Regulus in bemusement.
He didn’t seem to notice though, as he continued to the next step in your potion and carried on. “Did the tuna work?”
You stared at him dumbly before your brain kicked back into gear. “I beg your pardon?”
“The tuna.” He repeated. “For the mooncalves?”
Oh.
“Oh.” You started, giving your head a shake as you tried to find your balance you had long lost during this conversation. “Erm, no, but I did indeed attract a few cats.”
“Ah.” Regulus offered, smiling at you (or at the expected poof from the potion signifying that the two of you had brewed it correctly thus far).
“Also, I found out why goats are often associated with the devil, but the book you’d be looking for is Biblical in nature.”
You stared at him with your mouth agape as he continued. “There’s a quote where that Christ bloke mentions something about separating people from one another just as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. They’re used as a metaphor for the ‘bad’ or ‘inferior’ member of any group; it could also be understood as the divide between the pure and the wicked. I say goats got a bad rap, though.”
The next step in your potion brewing process was to allow the potion to simmer until it turned a milky white colour, so Regulus lowered the heat before appearing to remember something.
“I almost forgot…” He started as he began rooting through his book bag. “I asked the shopkeep at Brood & Peck, and she said this is a favourite of mooncalves; maybe you’ll have more luck tonight?” He asked as he held out a parchment of beast treats to you.
“You’ve been listening? This whole time?” You whispered in awe as you took the bag delicately as if he had just handed you a delicate china dish.
His brows furrowed again as he searched your eyes. “Well…yeah? I’m rather invested now.” He explained just as your potion turned its intended colour.
“Very good Mr. Black, Miss. L/N.” Professor Slughorn commented as he walked past your workbench.
You were alerted to the fact that class was over when everyone’s potions were vanished with a pop and students started to pack up their belongings.
“You’ll keep me posted, yeah? About the mooncalves?” Regulus asked as he started walking backwards towards the door.
“Sure.” You murmured, earning you a wide smile from the notoriously quiet boy.
Yes… You’d be more than happy to keep Regulus Black posted.
#marauders era#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#self insert#regulus black#regulus black x reader#regulus black x you#marauders#the marauders#regulus black fic#regulus black fluff#regulus black ficlet#regulus black blurb#regulus black imagine#yapper!reader#fem!reader#ellecdc fics
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Stray Kids Reaction || You Find Out You're A Bet
⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - August 2024
⤜MASTERLIST
A/n: before i get messaged about letting them “walk all over the reader” in order for it to have a fluffy ending there needs to be some give and take.
CHAN:
You weren't even sure why you were at the party in the first place, Chan told you it was just going to be for ten minutes but you'd been wandering around for almost an hour completely alone now. Pulling out your phone, you were contemplating calling a cab when you heard faint voices approaching you in the garden. Curious, you stay hidden behind the tall bushes, not wanting to intrude but unable to move away from them. The voices become clearer, and you recognize them immediately—Minho and Hyunjin, two of Bang Chan's closest friends. Hyunjin was even in your art class.
"I can't believe Chan actually agreed to that bet," Hyunjin says, his tone filled with disbelief. Minho chuckles a little and shakes his head, he never would have expected it to have happened.
"Yeah, who would've thought? But he's pulling it off. YN doesn't suspect a thing." Your heart stops. The blood in your veins turns to ice as you strain to hear more, hoping against hope that you've misunderstood what they were saying. Your stomach felt as though it was going to drop out of your ass.
"Do you think he'll actually go through with it?" Hyunjin asks, looking at Minho with an uneasy look on his face. Chan wasn't known to be mean or malicious and maybe it wasn't a malicious thing they'd set him up to do...In fact, their friend seemed happy around you.
"I don't know. He seemed pretty determined to prove us wrong. But you know how Chan is—always needing to be the best at everything." Minho laughed softly and you felt like the ground had opened up beneath you. A bet. To get with you. Your vision blurs as tears sting your eyes. You can't stand to hear anymore. You step back, accidentally snapping a twig underfoot. The sound is loud in the stillness, and you curse under your breath.
"Did you hear that?" Hyunjin says, and you know you need to leave. Now.
Without thinking, you turn and run, the party forgotten, your heart shattered. You just ran and ran until you found yourself back at your dorms.
How could he? You trusted him. You liked him. You thought he liked you too. The memories of your time together, the laughter, the stolen glances, all feel like cruel jokes now. It wasn't as though it was just a few dates, it was three whole fucking months!
You didn't know how long you'd been sitting in your dorm, wrapped in your misery, but eventually, you heard footsteps approaching before your door opened, you hated that you'd given him a key. You look up to see Bang Chan, his face etched with worry and desperation.
"YN," he calls out softly, hesitating a few feet away as if he's afraid you'll run again, the boys told him what happened and he instantly needed to find you.
"Please, let me explain." You shake your head, standing up, your stomach flipping as you try to speak without crying. You didn't want to give him that satisfaction.
"There's nothing to explain, Chan. I heard everything. It was all a bet to you. Yn, the big fucking joke," Your voice cracked at the end and Chan took a step closer, his eyes pleading with yours as he shakes his head at you.
"No, it wasn't. It started that way, yes, but it's not like that anymore. I swear." His own voice broke this time as he reached out to take your hands but you snatched them away from his reach.
"How am I supposed to believe you?" you ask, your voice breaking as tears streamed down your cheeks.
"Everything feels like a lie now." You breathed out. This time Chan closes the distance between you, his hands trembling as he reaches out to touch your arm.
"Because I fell for you, YN. For real. Somewhere along the way, the bet stopped mattering. You became the only thing that mattered." You search his eyes, looking for any sign of deceit, but all you see is the sincerity and pain he'd caused you. You want to believe him, but your heart is still raw, you didn't want him to be able to walk right over you but you'd fallen for him too.
"Give me a chance to make it right," he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I'll do whatever it takes to prove to you that this is real...That how I feel about you isn't some kind of joke and I'm utterly in love with you. I can't lose you over a stupid mistake." You hesitate, the battle between your heart and mind raging on, your mind screaming at you not to be stupid but your heart is beating it, fighting it tooth and nail to get him back.
Finally, you take a shaky breath look at him and nod your head.
"One chance, Chan. But if you hurt me again, we're done." Your voice came out stern as you told him, there was no way you were going to let him take advantage of you in any way. Relief practically washed over his face as he nodded,
"I promise, I won't." Chan looked at you for confirmation before stepping closer, wrapping you in a gentle hug. You whimpered a little before letting yourself melt into him, feeling the warmth and steadiness of his heartbeat against your cheek. It doesn't erase the pain not even close, but it's a start and Chan was going to prove to you every single day how much you meant to him. More than some ever silly bet.
As he holds you, whispering apologies and reassurances, you just close your eyes, enjoying the closeness between you both
MINHO:
Tonight was your birthday party, kind of. You were sharing it with a couple of other people from your class in University and Minho had thrown it for you. It was also to celebrate your anniversary with one another.
"I'll be right back." You whisper to Minho, quickly kissing his cheek and going to get you both a drink from the kitchen but as you walk you feel someone watching you and it doesn't take long until, Seungmin approaches you, with a look of irritation on his face.
"Hey, YN, can we talk for a minute?" He grumbles a little and you frown. You and Seungmin had only ever talked in passing whenever you were with Minho and he happened to be around. The two of you weren't the chatting type...with each other at least. You nod, curious about what he had to say to you alone. Without another word, he leads you to a quieter corner of the garden, away from the noise of the party.
"What's up?" you ask, trying to read his expression but it was blank, almost as if he didn't want to give anything away to you. Seungmin crosses his arms, clearly agitated by something.
"Look, you deserve to know something. Minho didn't start dating you because he liked you. It was a bet. He wanted to prove he could make anyone fall for him." The words were so cold coming from his lips and your heart stopped, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut as you shook your head.
"What are you talking about?" He sighs, running a hand through his hair clearly not in the mood for this anymore.
"It was just a stupid bet between him and the guys. But now, he’s acting all lovey-dovey, and it's like he actually fell for you. It's annoying." Did he sound annoyed at you for it? As if it was your fault, HIS friend had fallen in love.
You feel a wave of emotions crash over you—hurt, anger, disbelief, everything hitting you all at once. Why the fuck he was telling you this now was beyond you.
"Why are you telling me this?" You snap at him,
"Because it's ridiculous," Seungmin says, his tone sharp.
"He was supposed to prove a point, not fall in love. It's pathetic." he looked you up and down in disgust and you pulled your arms around your body, trying to shield yourself as if his words were actually hitting you physically. You don't bother to wait to hear more you march back into the party, searching for Minho. You find him laughing with some friends, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside you. You grab his arm and pull him aside, the anger bubbling up to the surface.
"YN, what's wrong?" he asks, concern flashing in his eyes, his hands holding onto you as you shake your head. Taking in a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady you stared at him.
"Is it true?" You didn't say anything else and Minho frowned,
"Is what true, baby?" He reached out to touch your face but you moved away from him, glaring at him.
"Did you start dating me because of a bet?" His face pales, and you see the guilt written all over it, his stomach twisting itself into knots.
"Who told you that?" He whispered, not even denying the claim.
"So, it is true," you say, your voice breaking as tears spilt down your cheeks.
"I can't believe you, Minho. I thought you cared about me." You grumbled, shoving against his shoulders but he didn't even move, he just stayed in place.
"I do care about you," he says desperately, reaching for your hand but you yanked it away from him.
"It started as a bet, yes, but that changed. I changed. I fell for you, YN. For real. This is fucking real!" He yells at you as he reaches for you once again. But his betrayal was cutting you deep.
"How am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to trust you?! This whole time, was any of it real?" You were sobbing by now and people were starting to stare but you didn't care. He steps closer to you, his eyes pleading.
"Yes, it was real. Every moment we spent together, every laugh, every kiss—it was real. I know I messed up, but please, give me a chance to make it right." His voice was soft as he begged you to let him prove himself to you. You stare into his eyes, searching for the truth, you always thought you could read him easily but now you weren't even sure.
The hurt is still raw, but beneath it, you see the sincerity and regret written all over his face.
"How can I trust you again, Minho?" Your voice came out weak and when he reached to take your hand in his, you let him. He stared at you as he smiled, holding your hands tightly.
"I'll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I'm serious. I love you, YN. I was an idiot to ever make that bet, but I swear, you mean everything to me now." He whispers, one of his hands reaching up and cupping your face in his hands, stroking your cheek gently with his thumb. You want to believe him, but the pain is still fresh in your mind.
"It's going to take time, Minho. I can't just forget about this." You gestured between you but he nodded, laying his forehead against yours,
"I understand," he says softly.
"I'll wait as long as it takes. Just don't walk away from us...Please" You take a deep breath, the anger starting to ebb away, leaving behind a fragile hope that this would work between you, that there was a future here.
"Okay. But you have to be honest with me. No more lies." He nods, relief flooding his features as he practically yanks you into his chest.
"No more lies. I promise."
CHANGBIN:
Sitting in the middle of your history lecture, you find it increasingly difficult to focus, your new professor had a one-tone voice and you could feel yourself drifting off the longer he spoke. Sighing a little to yourself you reached into your bag for your phone. It had been buzzing non-stop for the last twenty minutes and you wanted to see what was happening. As you pulled it out a flurry of notifications began lighting up the screen. When the professor turns to write on the board, you sneak a glance at your phone, trying to figure out what was happening so much that needed this much attention on the matter.
Your heart sinks as you see a string of messages and missed calls from friends. One message catches your eye: a screenshot from an unknown number. You glanced up to make sure the professor was still busy and you caught the look of some of the girls in your class who were looking at you with pity, smiling weakly as they turned away from you.
Frowning you turned back to your phone to open the message, and your stomach dropped. The screenshot shows a group chat where Changbin discusses a bet with his friends—apparently to prove he could make you fall for him. The date on the message is from several months ago, shortly before you started dating.
Your heart races and a wave of nausea washes over you, your skin starting to sweat as you panicked more and more. You feel eyes on you as you hastily gather your things and leave the classroom, needing to get away from the prying gazes and the oppressive silence. The professor called for you but you didn't even give him a glance as you legged it down the hallway, trying to get away. It felt like all eyes were on you.
As soon as you are alone outside of Changbin's dorm, you dial Changbin's number with trembling fingers. He answers on the second ring, his voice bright and cheerful.
"Hey, baby! What's up?" What's up?! How could he even be so fucking calm about this?
"We need to talk. Now," you say, struggling to keep your voice steady. Maybe he didn't know that the photos were going "viral" around the college yet.
"Sure, where are you? I'll come to you." You could hear him moving to get his keys but you sniffled a little.
"I'm outside your dorm," you reply before hanging up, not giving him a chance to say anything else to you.
You pace back and forth, the minutes stretching out painfully. Finally, you see Changbin approaching, a concerned look on his face.
"YN, what's wrong? You look-" You hold up your phone, cutting him off midsentence, showing him the screenshot. "
What is this, Changbin? Did you make a bet about dating me?" You couldn't stop the hurt in your voice as you stared at him. Waiting for him to deny it, to say it was fake. Anything. Just to tell you that the two of you were real despite what that fucking thing said. His eyes widen, and you see the colour drain from his face.
"YN, I can explain—" You cut him off, your voice shaking with anger and hurt.
"Explain what? That our entire relationship is based on a bet? That I've been nothing but a game to you? That I'm the biggest fucking joke to you?!" You cry softly,
"That nothing between us was ever fucking real?" You finish as he shakes his head at you,
"No, it wasn't like that," he says, his voice desperate as he reaches for you.
"It started as a stupid bet, but I swear, I fell for you. For real. You're not a game to me, what I feel for you isn't a game...It isn't fake..."
"Am I supposed to get on my knees and thank you for it? I-I'm not some kind of fucking joke!" You yell at him, gaining the attention of passersby but you didn't give a shit.
"How am I supposed to believe that?" you snap, tears welling up in your eyes. "Everything feels like a lie now." He takes a step closer, his hands reaching out to you as you let him touch you.
"Please, YN, you have to believe me. I was an idiot, and I made a mistake, but my feelings for you are real. I love you." It was the first time he'd ever said those three words to you and yet it felt like a slap to the face rather than something you'd been dying to hear from him.
You turn away, trying to collect your thoughts. The pain is overwhelming, but so is the look of sincerity in his eyes, you hated him and yet you loved him all at the same time.
"Do you have any idea how humiliating this is? Everyone saw that screenshot. Everyone knows...People in class were staring at me, looking at me with pity!" You swallowed the lump in your throat as you shook your head,
"I know, and I'm so sorry," he says softly. "I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. I'll tell everyone the truth. I'll make sure they know how much I care about you, how real this is between us." You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.
"This isn't just about everyone else. You broke my trust and my heart, Changbin. I don't know if I can get past that." He looks at you, his eyes filled with regret as he realises just how badly he'd fucked this up between the two of you.
"I understand. But please, give me a chance to prove myself. Let me show you that what we have is real." But you just left him standing there, giving yourself space to think.
Eventually, you went back to him, deciding you wanted to try and make things work between you and it had taken months of hard work from him for you to finally trust him again.
HYUNJIN:
The wedding reception is in full swing, the joyous atmosphere filling the beautifully decorated hall. You smile as you watch your friends and family celebrating with each other, your gaze wandering over to your husband now who was talking to a few of his friends. Your wedding day has been everything you dreamed of and more, it was everything you'd ever wanted since you were a little girl.
As you move through the crowd, accepting congratulations and well-wishes, you overhear a conversation that stops you in your tracks, your hand resting on the lower back of someone who congratulated you but your mind is on the conversation.
"I can't believe it all started as a bet. Who would've thought he'd actually fall in love with her and have a wedding like this?" Your heart skipped a beat, and it felt as though someone had just doused you in freezing cold water. You step closer, trying to catch more of the conversation without drawing attention to yourself.
"Yeah, remember how smug he was about it? But now look at him, married and everything," Seungmin laughs and you suddenly feel like the ground has been pulled out from under you. Your wedding day, the happiest day of your life, suddenly feels like a cruel joke between everyone there. Did everyone know it was a bet? How could he have not said anything to you? The two of you had been together for nine years now and he hadn't thought it bring it up once?
You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart, and decide you need to confront Hyunjin. Now.
As soon as you'd found him you dragged him away from listening ears and walked toward the toilets, shutting the door and ignoring the wolf-whistles from people who had seen the interaction. You bolted the door shut and Hyunjin smirked,
"Couldn't wait for the wedding night, baby?" He teases, stopping when you turn around to face him.
"Hey, what's up?" he asks, noticing the serious look on your face. He was ready to kill whoever had made you this pissed off on your wedding day of all days.
"We need to talk. Now," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. Where were you even supposed to start with this?
"Hyunjin, is it true? Did our relationship start as a bet?" you ask, your voice shaking as you stare at him. The expression on his face was all you needed for him to confirm it was real. His eyes widened in shock, and you see the guilt flash across his face.
"YN, I can explain—"
"All this time, everything we built, started as a stupid bet?" You whispered, almost as if you were scared someone was going to be listening outside.
"Yes, it started as a bet," he admits, his voice filled with regret. "But it changed, YN. I changed. We've been together for nine years! You think I'd marry you for some cruel joke?" He steps toward you but you take a step back, feeling betrayed.
"How could you not tell me? How could you let me marry you without knowing the truth?" You stared at him. As if your vows hadn't included that you'd never lie or hide something from one another.
"I was scared," he says softly. "Scared of losing you, scared that you wouldn't believe me if I told you. But my feelings for you are real. They have been for a long time, nine years baby I'd...I can't be without you." Tears fill your eyes as you struggle to process his words.
"How am I supposed to trust you now, Hyunjin? On our wedding day, of all days? You could have told me nine fucking years ago and I would...I would have had time to"
"I know," He whispers, his eyes boring into yours as he shakes his head.
"I know I fucked up. I should have told you a long time ago. But I love you, YN. I love you more than anything. Please, give me a chance to prove that to you. I meant every single thing in my vows...This isn't a joke to me," You needed to believe him and you did. Nine years was a long time for a bet and you knew it was real now but it didn't stop the hurt you were feeling right now.
"I don't know if I can just forget about this, Hyunjin. It hurts too much." You cry softly and he reaches out, wiping away the tears with a tissue trying not to ruin the makeup you were wearing.
"I understand," he says, his voice breaking. "But please, don't let this ruin what we have. We've built a life together, a future. Don't let a mistake I made years ago take that away from us." You take a deep breath, the anger and hurt slowly giving way to the love you still feel for him.
"It's going to take time, Hyunjin. I can't just move past this overnight."
"I know," he says, relief flooding his features, holding you in his arms as he whispers. "I'll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back. I promise." He rocks you back and forth slightly as he kisses the top of your head.
JISUNG:
The night was going amazing, you and Jisung were at your favourite restaurant, a cosy little place with dim lighting and soft music playing in the background. He told you he wanted to take you back to where your relationship started years ago, in the restaurant where you'd had your first date. He's been acting a bit nervous all night, and you have a feeling something big is about to happen, he'd made sure to let you know to get your nails done too...Jisung wasn't always the secretive guy he pretended to be.
"yn," He smiled as he reached over the table and took your hand. He looks into your eyes, a mixture of love and anxiety in his gaze, slowly he slides out from his chair and drops on one knee in front of you. Your heart racing as you giggled.
"I have spent every single day loving you for the last four years and I wanted to spend every single day for the rest of our lives doing it the same," He tells you. But just as he starts to speak again, you hear a familiar voice from a nearby table.
"Hey, isn't that Jisung and YN?" You glance over to see Changbin who is staring at you both and you look back at Jisung trying to focus on the proposal but the following words make your heart drop.
"Remember how she was just a bet years ago? And now look, she's about to be his future wife!" His voice was full of amusement and your heart stopped. The words cut through the romantic atmosphere like a knife. You pull your hand away from Jisung's and turn to face Changbin, the shock and hurt evident on your face.
"What?" You whispered, staring at Changbin and then to Jisung who looked panicked as he shook his head.
"YN, please, let me explain."
You stand up, your emotions boiling over as you knock into the table and knock the glass of wine shattering to the floor gaining more attention to you both.
"Explain what, Jisung? That our entire relationship started as a joke? That I was nothing but a bet to you?" You shake your head, trying to get away but he reaches out to you, desperation in his eyes.
"It wasn't like that...O-okay...Yes, it started as a stupid bet, but that was years ago!" You shake your head, tears starting to blur your vision, and people are staring at you both.
"How could you not tell me? How could you keep this from me all these years?" You whispered at him as he shook his head. His friends told him to tell you years ago when he started falling for you but he thought he could hide it. That if you never found out the way it started it wouldn't matter because you loved each other.
"I was terrified," he admits, his voice breaking as he shook his head.
"Scared of losing you, terrified you'd never forgive me. But I love you, YN. More than anything." The betrayal felt like a weight on your chest, suffocating you as you shook your head. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.
"I need some air." You whispered and walked away.
You walked and walked until you stopped at a park, holding your arms around yourself and crying softly. It didn't take Jisung to catch up to you, calling your name, but you didn't look at him as your shoulders began shaking with silent sobs.
"YN, please. I never meant to hurt you. The bet was a mistake, a stupid, immature mistake. But my love for you is real. It always has been and it always...will be, baby." You turn to face him, the pain and anger still raw as you stare at him.
"How am I supposed to believe that, Jisung? After everything?" He knew it wasn't going to be something quick he could move past but he was never going to stop until he proved to you how true this was.
"Because I’ve spent every day since then trying to be the best man I can be for you. Because I can’t imagine my life without you. I was going to propose to you tonight because I want to spend the rest of my life proving to you how much I love you." You stared into his eyes, trying to decide if this was real or just some extension of the bet but he stared at you, his hurt and guilt clear on his face.
"You broke the trust between us...Everything feels like a lie now." You whisper, allowing yourself to hold onto him as he rubs your back softly,
"This isn't how I wanted this night to go...I fucked this all up, and I will do fucking anything to make you realise that what I feel is real..."
You take a deep breath, the anger and hurt slowly giving way to the love you still feel for him, you wanted your life with him. Your life with him was everything you'd been dreaming of.
"This...This isn't some part of the bet?" You gestured at the box in his hand and he shook his head,
"Never...Ever," He whispered as he looked at you, you nodded and he slowly knelt back down in front of you.
"I will spend every single day making this up to you if you agree to be my wife. I will spend every day, bringing you flowers, making you songs...doing whatever it takes to prove it's real...Will you-" You kissed him before he could even finish asking you and he whined.
"I-Is that a yes?" He panted as you pulled back from one another, you slowly nodded at him.
FELIX:
You and Felix are sitting in your favourite coffee shop, the one where you’ve shared many dates with each other when you started dating a few months back but something felt strange today. Felix seemed different than his usual self around you today and it was starting to worry you a little bit. He was being quieter, and more jittery than normal. You sip your coffee, waiting for him to speak, thinking he would come to you when he was good and ready.
Finally, he takes a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours but there is guilt and fear written all across his face as he stares at you,
“YN, there’s something I need to tell you.” You set your cup down, your heart beginning to race. Was he going to break up with you? Is that was this was?
“What is it, Lix?” You reached your hands over the table to touch him but he pulled his hands away and looked away from you for a moment, gathering his thoughts. The boys had warned him not to do this, that it wouldn't be good to ruin what you had but he no longer wanted to lie about why your relationship had started. When he spoke, his voice was shaky.
“Our relationship... it didn’t start the way you think it did..." He coughed a little as he cleared his throat,
"It started as a bet.” The words rushed out but you heard every single one of them as your heart sank to the pit of your stomach,
“A bet? What do you mean?” He winces at the hurt in your voice, he'd been trying to brace himself for this for a few weeks now but he hadn't done it enough.
“It was stupid and immature. Some of the guys bet that I couldn’t get you to go on a date with me. At first, it was just about proving them wrong. But YN, it didn’t stay that way. I’ve fallen for you, really fallen for you. That’s why I have to be honest with you now. I couldn't keep lying about why all of this had started.” One minute you'd been so in love with him and now it felt as though someone had ripped the floor out from under you,
“So, this whole time, I was just a game to you?” You whispered, shaking your head at him.
“No,” he says quickly, reaching for your hand again.
“You were never just a game. I know it started that way, but it changed. You changed me. When we went on that first date I knew I was going to fall for you and I made them stop the whole thing. I didn't take their money...” You pull your hand away, standing up trying to get out of the cafe without drawing too much attention to you both.
“How am I supposed to believe that, Felix? How can I trust anything you’ve said?” He stands too in a rush, knocking his cup over but neither of you moves, his eyes stare into yours, pleading with you.
“Because I’m telling you the truth now. I was scared to lose you, but I realized that if I kept this from you, it would be worse. I couldn’t keep lying to you. I love you, YN. That’s real. What I feel for you? It's so real.”
Tears blur your vision as you shake your head, the betrayal cutting deep inside of you as you shook your head, this all felt like a big joke.
“You should have told me sooner. You should have given me the choice...”
“I know,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I’ll do what I can to make this right. Please, don’t walk away from us.” You look at him and bite your lip,
“I need time, Felix. This hurts too much.” You whispered as he nodded at you, watching you walk away from him.
One evening, as you sat alone in your dorm, there was a small knock on the door. Slowly you got up to open it and find Felix standing there, looking vulnerable and hopeful. There was a huge bouquet of flowers, not that you needed any more of them. There were already twenty of them sitting all around your apartment.
“YN, can we talk?” he asks softly. Slowly you stepped aside and let him into the apartment and he sat down watching you closely.
“I’ve been thinking a lot,” you say finally. “About us, about everything. I still don’t know if I can fully trust you, but I also know that I love you. I miss you.” Your voice cracked as he jumped up, rushing to your side and took your hand gently.
“I miss you too. I know I messed up, and I’ll spend every day proving to you that my love is real. No more secrets, no more lies.” You told him as you looked into his eyes, searching for the truth. All you see is sincerity and regret.
“It’s going to take time, Felix. A lot of time.” He nodded at you, kissing your hand softly,
“I understand,” he says, his grip on your hand tightening. “I’ll be here, every step of the way. I love you, YN. More than anything.”
SEUNGMIN:
It was a quiet and very lazy Sunday afternoon, and you’re curled up on the couch with Seungmin. He’s napping beside you, his head resting on your shoulder, and you’re idly scrolling through his phone, looking for the photos he'd taken of you both last week when you went to the animal sanctuary, you wanted to send them to your mum since she was always asking for photos. As you swipe through his videos, one catches your eye: a familiar group of friends, with Seungmin front and centre.
Curiosity piqued, and you tap on the video wondering what it could have been. The two of you had no secrets from one another, or so you'd thought.
The laughter and rowdy voices of Seungmin and his friends fill the room in the video. You recognize the setting instantly—it’s from a few months ago, just before you and Seungmin started dating. You knew that because it was the same outfit Seungmin had asked you out in, something you'd memorised.
"Alright, boys, here are the rules," Seungmin's voice booms from the video as people cheered around him, you frowned a little.
"The first one to get YN to fall for them wins. No cheating, and you have to actually date her for at least three months. Loser buys drinks for a year." You stared at the screen as if you wished it was some kind of nightmare you were having. But as you realise it was real your heart drops. The phone feels like it’s burning your hand, and you quickly pause the video. Seungmin stirs beside you, his eyes fluttering open.
“Hey, what are you watching?” he asks groggily, yawning a little before you scoff at him.
“Oh you know, just a cute little video of my boyfriend saying I'm a fucking bet,” you spit at him, showing him the screen and restarting to video all over again. His eyes widen in horror as he realizes what you’ve seen.
“YN, listen...I can explain.” He pleaded but you were already standing up, throwing his phone down onto the sofa beside him and trying to gather your shit.
“So, I was just a bet to you? Some kind of game? How long were you going to keep it going?” You laughed dryly. The video said three months but the two of you had been together for almost ten months now. Seungmin scrambles to sit up, panic clear on his face.
“No, it’s not like that. It started as a bet, yes, but that was before I really got to know you. I swear, my feelings for you are real.”
“How am I supposed to believe that? Huh? You sat there and you-” You barely got the words out, tears welling up in your eyes.
“You made me fall for you because of a stupid bet. I thought we had something real, Seungmin.” You grab your things, throwing them into a bag as he follows you around his apartment, blocking you from going into the bedroom,
“We do! We do have something real, baby! This is real!” he insists, standing and reaching out to you, but you move away from his touch and shake your head at him.
“I was an idiot, okay? It was juvenile and wrong, and I regret it every day. But YN, I fell for you. Truly. That’s why I need to be honest with you now.” You step back, the pain of betrayal cutting you like a knife and you shake your head.
"Send me the rest of my shit," You snap before storming out of his apartment and going home.
[X]
It had been a month, a month of pure torture every time you realised you still loved Seungmin despite him lying to you and hiding something huge from you and yet you missed him. Every single day you would get a new delivery of flowers or a teddy bear with a card that explained a reason why Seungmin had fallen in love with you and he was making it incredibly difficult to hate him.
"Seungmin," You breathed finding him at your door one more.
“I’m standing here, telling you the truth...okay,” he says, tears now in his eyes as he looks at you.
“I’m risking everything because I can’t lose you. I love you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to you if you’ll let me.”
You look into his eyes, searching for any sign of deceit and you can see how much he regretted doing this to you.
“It’s going to take time, Seungmin. I can’t just forget about this overnight...But I miss-" You barely had time to finish before he threw himself into your arms and hugged you tightly against him.
JEONGIN:
You’re having dinner at Jeongin’s family home, enjoying a relaxed evening with his parents and younger brother. They'd invited you over since you were Jeongin's first-ever real girlfriend and they wanted to meet the girl who had stolen his heart. The atmosphere is warm and lively, and it felt so easy to fit in with their banter. You feel completely at ease, having grown close to Jeongin's family over the months you’ve been dating. It would have been a year next month.
As you help clear the table after dinner, his younger brother suddenly speaks up,
“Hey, YN, what did you and Jeongin do with the money?”
"What money?" You laughed softly wondering what he was talking about, behind you Jeongin had paled dramatically.
"From the bet...The one he made to ask you out." his tone was so casual but his words were like a dagger to your heart.
The room falls silent. You freeze, the plates in your hands feeling like they weigh a ton and it took everything inside of you not to drop them on the floor. Slowly you turn to look at Jeongin, who is pale and wide-eyed, clearly caught off guard by the fact that his brother had bought it up.
“What's he talking about?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
Jeongin's baby bother, oblivious to the tension he’s caused, continues,
“Yeah, Jeongin and his friends bet that he couldn’t get you to go to some party with him. It was just a joke, but I guess it worked out between you both, right?” You feel like the ground has collapsed beneath you. The warmth and comfort of the evening vanished, replaced by a cold, hard betrayal. You look at Jeongin, hoping for some kind of denial, but he just stares at you, guilt and panic written all over his face.
"yn..." He whispers but you place the plates down, shaking your head and heading out of the apartment needing some time to think clearly but it wasn't going to happen as Jeongin chased after you.
“YN, please, let me explain.” He begged but you stepped back, shaking your head. “Not here. We’ll talk about this at home.”
[X]
When Jeongin finally joined you back at home it was like the air was thick with tension and you stared at him,
“So, it was all a bet? Our entire relationship started as some kind of joke?” you demand, tears welling up in your eyes. Jeongin looks desperate, his hands trembling as he tries to reach for you.
“Yes, it started as a bet. But YN, it was a stupid, immature mistake. I never meant for it to go this far.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” you shout, pulling away from him.
“I trusted you, Jeongin! I thought what we had was real.” You yelled at him and he shook his head at you,
“It is real,” he insists, his voice breaking. “I fell in love with you, truly. That’s why I never told you. I was scared of losing you. You mean everything to me, YN.” He pleaded with you.
"I never would have taken you to meet my family if I didn't love you. I wanted you to see them, to see the family that would one day be yours." You desperately wanted to believe him but everything was still weighing down on your chest.
“How am I supposed to believe anything you say now? How do I know this isn’t just another part of the bet?”
“Because I’m here, telling you the truth,” he says, tears streaming down his face.
"Because I'm hopelessly and dramatically in love with you. I would fly a plane and write it in the sky if I could! In fact! I'll hire someone to do it, I'll....I'll do anything, please, yn." He held your hands in his and you started at him, everything still so fresh.
"Innie..."
“I know, Yn, I fucked up but please...” he whispers, stepping closer cautiously.
“I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to deem me worthy of your forgiveness. I’ll prove to you that my love is real. No more lies, no more secrets.” You nod slowly, the anger and pain slowly giving way to the love you still feel for him, everything was real between you and you could tell that from his family but it didn't make it easy.
“Okay. But you have to be honest with me from now on. No more lies, ever.”
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religion's in your lips
third year to timeskip!hinata x fem!reader, a tad suggestive
It’s Shoyo’s fault.
You don’t join Shoyo’s outings often; most of them are volleyball-related anyway, and you didn’t want to get in the way. But right now, it’s just the third years, and Shoyo had begged so sweetly with round eyes that you would be cruel to even think about denying him.
Kageyama sits on your other side, stiff and polite, jostled here and there by Shoyo pressing up against you. Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and Yachi sit on the other side of the table. Conversation is light and comfortable. They don’t exclude you even when talking about practice matches and lineups—Yamaguchi asks you about your own club ever so often, too.
Yamaguchi claps his hand, forcing everyone’s attention on him. Except Shoyo, who’s busy tracing stars on your hand. “Do you guys want to watch a movie this weekend? I heard they’re releasing a sequel of the one we watched back in first year.”
Yachi emits a wordless sound of excitement, easily agreeing. Kageyama and Tsukishima begrudgingly agree at the same time, then sneer at each other. Then they all turn to you and Shoyo.
Shoyo grins. “Sorry, I got plans already.”
“You get a girlfriend, and suddenly you forget about us,” Yamaguchi mourns. Shoyo laughs while you get flustered and assure them that you’re not keeping your boyfriend hostage. Kageyama says that they know Hinata is the one doing it.
“You’re going to watch our match next week, though, right?” Shoyo asks you in a low whisper, as the other three dutifully settle in their own world.
“You don’t even need to ask, Shoyo,” you tell him. “Of course.”
Shoyo’s eyes brighten impossibly, face split into a grin. He looks like he wants to push you down onto the floor to kiss you in front of his friends, but he doesn’t. You knew he wouldn’t.
It’s Shoyo’s fault.
Really. Seriously this time. Specifically, Hinata Shoyo from third year. He’s changed from first year, gained more confidence, but he’s still shy and soft-spoken with you, which you expected from someone as sweet as him. It set your expectations for him and what your relationship would look like in the years and years that you’ll spend with him: bearing that first love kind of shyness.
It takes about two years to prove you wrong.
When Shoyo came back from Brazil, the first thing he did was kiss you breathless in front of everyone in the airport.
His strong arms around your waist, pulling you up—which you had to think ‘thank God’ for because your knees have definitely buckled. You don’t think too much about it, because he’s been gone for two years—two!!—and you’ve missed each other too much.
But when Hinata’s mouth descends to your jaw, you have to push him by the chest and exclaim (albeit weakly), “Shoyo—there are still people behind us!”
Shoyo blinks and pulls off, his eyes fogged over with heat that makes you have to look away, having to remind yourself that you’re in public and you do not want to beg for him to continue. Thankfully, his friends yelling his name seems to have snapped him out of it.
But his palm never left your side, splayed over your hip like a mark.
It gets worse at his homecoming party thrown by his teammates back at Karasuno. You’re familiar with them, and they’re familiar with you, so of course, it wasn’t a problem when Shoyo was pulled away to greet everyone. You made friendly conversation with Sugawara-san, caught up with Nishinoya, and joked around all night with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima.
“You called each other every night?” Yamaguchi’s brows have shot up all the way to his hairline.
You smile. “I mean—isn’t it normal for people in a relationship?”
Tsukishima shrugs. “Hinata loves you as much as he loves volleyball, I’m not surprised.”
Yamaguchi considers it. “Hmm, I guess.”
“Hinata’s waiting for you,” Kageyama mutters from behind you, appearing out of nowhere. His brows are stitched together, and his mouth is pulled in his ever-permanent Kageyama pout. “His staring is pissing me off. Can you go get him?”
“He’s not a dog, Tobio,” you chide lightly but grin all the same when you turn to your side and see Hinata Shoyo’s eyes drilling holes into your head.
He’s not mouthing anything. Shoyo stays seated on the loveseat, looking entirely isolated from the crowd around him. His eyes say it all: come here.
Helpless to his whims, you obey.
“Shoyo,” you murmur as soon as you reach him.
He pulls you to his lap. “Baby.”
You freeze. He’s never called you that before—his expression isn’t shy at all, too, just expectant. Heat crawls down your body as he tugs your back to his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder. Shoyo’s own warmth is a burning sensation. You feel lightheaded.
“Ah—well, um.” You pinch your arm. “Are you feeling okay? Did you drink?”
“There’s no alcohol here.”
“I’m pretty sure I saw Sugawara-san holding a bottle.”
“Ah, well. Sugawara-san.”
You understand. What you don’t understand is what happened in those two years to have Shoyo’s hand crawling on your thigh, a scorching mark on only that part of your skin. To have Shoyo’s breath on the nape of your neck without him flushing and flinching away. To have Shoyo have this air of confidence around him that’s usually in volleyball suddenly translate to you.
“Did you miss me this much?”
“You have no idea, don’t you?” The implications are clear: I could show you how much, if you want.
Still, this development is very sudden. You squirm on his lap, but Shoyo doesn’t relent. He keeps you there, a puddle in his hands. Nobody is watching—or maybe they’re just being respectful, but you feel flustered facing this side of Shoyo in public.
“Shoyo,” you warn. “Not here.”
It’s Heitor’s fault.
Ever since Hinata had met Heitor and Nice and witnessed how unapologetically intimate they were with each other, Hinata became envious. He wanted that, too. He wanted that with you.
“Well, why wouldn’t you?” Heitor asked when Hinata lamented to him.
Hinata made a pitiful noise, like a deflating balloon. “I don’t know. I think she just thinks I’m too cute to take that seriously.”
Heitor laughs. “Shoyo. Trust me. You’ll drive your girl crazy if you’re confident with it.”
It’s Heitor’s fault, and Hinata is eternally grateful for it, seeing your wide-eyed face beneath him like this. He loves it when he surprises people, but yours might be a different kind of thrill that he’s already addicted to.
#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu x reader#hinata shouyou x reader#hinata shoyo imagine#shoyo hinata x reader#hinata shoyo x reader#hinata shoyo x you
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