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mcrdvcks · 16 days

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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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azsazz · 4 months

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Out of Order

Hockey!Azriel x Figure Skater!Reader

Summary: You're running late from practice and the women's showers are out of order. In your haste to make it to class, you utilize the men's locker room while they're on the ice, only to find out that their practice has been cut short as well...

Warnings: Smut (oral, m receiving). Steamy (haha, get it?).

Word Count: 3003

Notes: This would prob never happen but it’s my world and you’re all living in it 😏

Belongs to the Shut Out & Penance world

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“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter, staring at the sign hanging over the showers in the women’s locker room. It reads Closed for Maintenance. You’ve completely forgotten that the showers weren’t going to be in working order this week. You hadn’t been paying too close attention when your figure skating coach told you about it before the weekend hit, still too stunned thinking about Azriel when you’d run into him on your way to where all the coaches’ offices are housed.

It hasn’t been a great start to the week. Your alarm went off late, you spilled the horrible coffee you’d managed to make whilst brushing your teeth—no harm there—and you split your leggings after a tumble on the ice. Now, you’re going to be doubly late for class because Coach Vanserra had wanted to talk to you about your routine after practice.

And now this.

Clicking your phone on, you check the time. Yup. You only have fifteen minutes to make your way across campus to class, and you’ve only just stopped sweating from the vigorous run-throughs of the jump you fell on during practice this morning. Anything to get the routine perfect, even if it did mean receiving a few cutting glares from the hockey players who were loitering around for their own practice. The chain reaction of you being late meant that the Zamboni flooded the ice late which meant that hockey practice started late.

Late, late, late.

You would totally skip class too, if it weren’t the one that you were struggling the most in. The Teaching Assistant even allowed you to meet with her before class today to go over the outline of your mid-term, and you really need to do well on it.

“What do I do, what do I do?” you wonder aloud, staring at the bright neon sign. You don’t have enough time to make it home, but—you groan as the idea pops into your head.

The men’s locker room.

There are showers in there. Ones that probably work, too.

Fuck, you really don’t want to do this.

But you have no choice, you’re not spending the day walking around classes a filthy mess or smelling like sweat.

You duck out the door with your things, your bag slung over your shoulder, towel draped over your arm. Your shoes are clutched in your free hand as you duck your head, walking faster. Passing the rink just to make sure the hockey team is still out on the ice, you exhale softly, only allowing yourself a fleeting look at sex on skates.

Azriel is fast. Probably one of the fastest forwards on the team. He slides across the arena with a grace that rivals your own, and you’re impressed. Maybe he’s taken a few figure skating classes of his own. If only you could ask.

Quickly, you make sure that the coast is clear before ducking into the men’s locker room. It doesn’t look much different from the women’s locker rooms, with added urinals. It’s muggy even though it’s early, from the male figure skaters taking showers of their own. There’s a lingering scent of stale sweat in the air that makes your nose wrinkle, but you can push through that if it means you get the shower you so desperately need.

You halt, listening for any noise. Nothing. The locker room is perfectly empty.

You hustle to the back of the room where the showers are located, claiming the one furthest from the door. If someone does come inside, they likely won’t take up the empty shower next to you. Something about bro code and urinals, Cassian once mentioned. You pray that it applies to showers, too.

The walls separating each shower come up to your shoulders, and there’s a pair of swinging doors that keep the area enclosed. The water pressure is incredible, much better than in the women’s showers, and you groan as you step under the hot spray. Your towel is hung on the rack, your bag the furthest from the water as you can manage without getting it wet or being seen by anyone that might come your way.

You scrub your hair quickly, and when you turn around to wash the shampoo out, your eyes connect with a very familiar—and very heated—pair of hazel ones.

Azriel.

Holy fuck, this can’t be happening right now. His dark hair is damp with sweat, clinging to his perfectly tan skin. He’s sans shirt, and when your gaze quickly flicks to below the door, notice that he’s not wearing any pants, either.

Your heart pounds in your chest. He’s not supposed to be in here. You’re not supposed to be in here.

“What are you doing in here?” You exclaim, voice pitching high with your nerves. You slap your arms across your chest, even though you know he’s gotten an eyeful of your breasts from his vantage point, way taller than where the doors end.

“What are you doing in here?” He bites back, and the roughness of his voice makes the warmth pounding against your back converge between your legs. Fuck, he’s so attractive. His throat works around a harsh swallow, and you have to clamp your legs together stifle the throbbing.

Azriel watches you shift on your feet uneasily. Tracks you with his dark gaze like you’re a trapped animal and he’s about to pounce.

You kind of like this look on him.

“The women’s showers are out of order and I’m late for class,” you hastily reply, cheeks burning bright. You don’t know why he’s in here or if the rest of the team is seconds from following, but you need to get the fuck out of here right now, go bury your head in your pillow and potentially never return to the ice rink ever again.

This is utterly humiliating.

Azriel opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, raucous laughter and crude jokes fill the space as the rest of the team enter the locker room. Your heart falls to the floor, swirling around with the soap that’s still running from your hair, and slipping down the drain.

Before you can protest, Azriel’s shoving himself inside of the stall with you, uncaring that you’re completely naked and shouldn’t be here. He presses himself up against you and you slip, but he’s righting you, pulling you into his chest where you can feel how very interested he is in this debacle.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You exclaim, and it’s hard to keep your voice from shouting frantically like you want to.

The air becomes a thousand times hotter. You can barely breathe with him pressed up against you like this, turning the both of you and hiding you from the view of his teammates. Your heart still races in your chest, both because your fucking crush is pressing his naked torso up against yours and with the fear that one of his teammates will take notice.

“It’s either I see you naked, or the entire team does,” he whispers, huskily. “And no way in hell am I letting that fucking happen.” He growls and something like pleasure skitters down your spine.

You swallow roughly, “Good call.”

“Practice ended early,” He tacks on, answering your previous question.

“I gathered,” you breathe, but it holds none of the heat that it normally does when you talk to any of the hockey players. Especially Cassian. “You were out there for like, five minutes,” you whisper-shout. You can feel how red your cheeks are, and while this may be mortifying, Azriel’s hard cock pressed into your stomach only adds to your already heightened emotions.

You wonder what he’d do if you got down on your knees right now.

“It’s been an hour,” he responds, and you hold your breath when the water of another shower turns on. Azriel drags you under the spray with him, making it look to his teammates that he’s showering instead of hiding the figure skater they’ve been arguing with for ice time all semester. “Coach wanted to keep us loose for the weekend. We’re supposed to change and watch film.”

Fuck, maybe you were staring for longer than you thought.

You can’t focus. Your entire mind needs rewiring because all you can think about right now is how Azriel’s bare skin is touching yours. How he towers over you, how he’s staring down at you with a heat that rivals a thousand wildfires. Actually, he’s staring a little south of your eyes, right at your—

“Hey,” you snap softly. Your arms are still tucked tightly over your chest, and you hope you’re not experiencing a nip-slip right now. “Eyes up here, asshole.”

Azriel’s smile nearly makes you slip.

“Can’t help myself,” he defends, and this is the most animated you’ve ever seen him. Out on the ice he’s all broody and serious, head strictly in the game. It’s hot, but this side of him, cheeky and smug, might even be hotter. “You’re fucking gorgeous. Can you feel how hard you make me, baby?”

Gods, if he doesn’t shut up right now, you’re probably going to do something you’ll regret later, like grab his hand and slide it right between your—

“Dude,” Cassian’s voice bellows and you duck closer into Azriel’s chest. Each ridge of his impressive muscles contract as he freezes up and despite your heart feeling like it’s about to pound out of your chest, you can admit that this is thrilling. The thought of being caught in here, surrounded by built hockey players, naked with Azriel, makes your core twist with pleasure. “Since when do you have a pink towel?”

You wince. Of course, he can see where the towel is hung on the rack, the dude is massive.

Azriel lies easily, “Yeah, some chick left it over at my place and I brough it to return to her later.” It sounds like something he’s done before. A bite of jealousy hits you hot and harsh at the thought of him doing this with anyone else.

You clench your jaw, but as if he can feel the way you tense, his large hands come to rest on your hips, soothing across your skin. Fucking fuck.

“Used? Nice one, Azzy,” Cassian laughs and nothing more is said while he returns to his own shower.

Azriel eases slightly, the motion making his abs relax. You want to lean forward and lick over them, but now is nor the time nor the place.

You really need to get the fuck out of here.

There’s no way in hell that you’re going to make it to class, dammit.

You hear more showers turn on, and Azriel removes his hands from your hips to reach behind you for the soap you have on the shelf. You watch him as he squeezes some of the shampoo into his hands before scrubbing them through his black hair. He’s like a fucking dream come true, and his cock still hasn’t gone down from where it’s pinned between the both of you, only the thin fabric of his boxers keeping you and it from meeting.

A droplet of soap falls onto your face, and you flinch, but don’t move. You’re not sure if you can, because your limbs are seized up with nerves. You’re not sure you want to.

Azriel rinses his hands off, slowly bringing them to your face. He wipes the droplet away with his knuckle and the feeling goes straight to your core.

“Azriel,” you breathe, but are promptly interrupted for a second time.

“Hey, man.” It’s Rhys. “You ready to kick the Sea Lion’s asses this weekend?” The water turns on in the shower directly next to you and in your haste to shuffle closer to Azriel, your arm brushes up against his cock and his hands fly out, gripping you firmly to keep you from squirming.

Oh. He’s enjoying being in this shower with you as much as you are.

A smirk makes its way onto your face that makes Azriel’s glorious hazel eyes narrow in distrust.

Reaching carefully behind you, you snag the bottle of conditioner from the rack and press it softly into his hand. His brows furrow in confusion as he answers his team captain. “Yeah, dude, Tarquin and his team don’t stand a fucking chance.” He almost chokes when you slide down to your knees in front of him.

“Damn straight,” Rhys says, while Azriel pleads you with his eyes. You’re not sure if he wants you to stop or keep going, but you hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tug anyway.

His cock springs from its confines and the bottle in Azriel’s hand drops, ringing loudly against the floor.

“Shit,” he says, but it’s tight in his throat, like he can’t even get the words out. If someone catches on, he’s screwed.

He leans down to pick up the conditioner bottle and you frown as his cock is pulled from eye-level.

“What do you think you’re doing, pretty girl?”

You lean in close, sliding your hands up his muscular arms, enjoying the way his thick, dark eyelashes flutter under your touch. “Just enjoy, Azriel,” you whisper, your breath casting over his lips. He could grab you by the back of your head and tug you into the kiss he’s been wanting to since the first day you showed up at the rink, snarking at the team for going over their time. His cock jumps at the thought of those pursed lips wrapped around his cock. “And wash my hair while you’re at it.”

“Fuck,” he groans softly, but you pull away before he can rock into you and claim your mouth. He’s been crouched down for too long, anyway, so he rips himself from you, pushing to his feet.

“What do you think about Tarquin?” you hear Rhys ask, but you’re already reaching forward, taking Azriel in your hand. He jerks immediately and when you look up at him, he’s already shooting you an apologetic look, and then another that tells you he isn’t going to last very long.

You like the idea of that. Having this power over him.

He’s hard and smooth in your hand. You watch eagerly as a bead of precum drips from the tip, but it’s washed away by the water still cascading down his body, to your disappointment. If you’re going to be waterboarded, you’re thankful that this is how it’s going to go.

Azriel’s response is choked when you finally wrap your lips around the head of his cock, teasing his slit with the tip of your tongue. The flavor of him bursts on your tongue as another drop of precum follows, and you almost moan before remembering where you are. To keep the noise from coming out, you sink further onto his cock, cutting off your airflow.

“He’s good, but he’s no match for Bloodshed over there,” Azriel answers, and his hand falls to your head, fingers burying into your hair. You can feel the cold of the conditioner and if you weren’t enjoying yourself too much by bobbing your mouth up and down his cock, you’d be worried about the amount he’s using.

“Yeah,” Rhys says. “Their goalie is decent, but our offense is better.”

Azriel hums in response and his other hand finds your face, cupping it and guiding you just the way that he likes.

You take advantage of his help, lathing your tongue across any skin that you can find, reveling in the feeling of it all. Your legs are clenched so tightly together, your clit aching for release. You’re on edge, but you’re terrified of making any noise. You really can’t be found in the men’s locker room like this.

“Dude…” Rhys trails off, and the suspicion in his voice makes you falter, but Azriel’s still guiding your head, trying not to fully say fuck it and jerk his cock as deep as he can go. “Are you fucking jacking off right now?”

“Yeah,” Az answers, because he doesn’t give a fuck anymore. He’s still going to protect you, but his hips are moving, his tip hitting the back of your throat but not pushing any further, so you don’t choke. “So, if you’d kindly fuck off, that’d be ace. We’ll talk at film. Tell coach I’ll be late.”

Rhysand’s answering chuckle rings throughout the stalls when he cuts the water from his shower. “Enough said, Az. You’re fucking sick, but I’m out.”

As soon as Rhysand’s out the door, Azriel’s picking up his pace, gasping out that he’s going to release and trying to pry you off his cock like the gentleman he is.

Too bad you want his cum in your mouth.

You curl your fingers into the meat of his thighs, urging him to stay inside.

“Fuck, baby, you’re fucking perfect,” he groans before he releases himself. He’s all heady and musky, and you swallow him greedily, not letting a single drop escape. Gods, you need to stop acting like this, but around Azriel, you can’t help yourself.

He helps you to your feet and ducks down to capture your lips in a heated, desperate kiss. Your hands find his hair, clutching to him as his tongue traces the seam of your lips, silently asking for permission. You grant it to him, and the kiss turns hot and needy, like he’s been wanting this for a long as you have.

You’re breathless when he pulls away, chest heaving, but your gaze stays locked on his, especially when he sinks to his own knees.

“What are you doing?” you pant, planting your hands on his shoulders, your nails digging deliciously into his skin.

“Returning the favor,” he says, like it’s the simplest answer in the world. He taps the inside of your tingling thighs. “Why do you think I told Rhys to tell coach that I’m going to be late? C’mon, pretty girl, open these legs for me.”

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Hockey!AU Tag (will be tagged for any hockey fic, no matter paring):

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks

#acotar #azsazz #acomaf #azriel/reader #azriel x reader #azriel #hockey!azriel #hockey!bat boys #acowar #azriel smut

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ew-selfish-art · 1 year

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Dpxdc AU: consultant groups can be used to outsource problems for companies so why not monarchies?

Danny is listening to the various eyeballs and ghosts chatter on about all the issues that he now has to oversee and advise and make so many freaking decisions on. It’s annoying that it all has to come down to his call because he was a dumb 14 year old who didn’t want his town to permanently live in the ghost zone.

Now 17, King of the Infinite, and a bit wiser to the world, Danny is doing his best to balance his teenage ambitions to not give a shit and his protective obsession to very much give a shit.

Sams parents are making her learn the family business and Tucker is trying to make this internship he’s got with a fancy tech company out of New Jersey into a career without college… so while they’re commiserating with Danny the idea comes up.

Earth has a shit ton of heroes. Like, ever since the Justice League *poofed* the GIW out of existence with the Meta human acts- more and more caped crusaders seemed to be coming out of the wood work. More villains too but still, more people who seemed wise to their abilities and morals. Danny has literally never taken an ethics class.

But rn, Eye-mothy and Eye-Bert are arguing over how Danny as King Phantom is supposed to tackle the problem of some fucking pool acting as a weird trade route with a cult and… ugh it’s just so boring but like also such a fucking problem. But… maybe it can be someone else’s issue.

Opening a portal, Danny escapes into space and gets to work finding the base of operations- Tucker had told him there was a new satellite after all and there’s no way it wasn’t connected to the hero orgs- and boom he flies into the Watchtower.

“Hey- are any of you guys willing to consult on some weird pools of ectoplasm in Pakistan? Green and glowing little lakes of bullshit and magic?” Danny asks into the meeting room of the JL regardless of their startled and alarmed exclamations.

“… I could consult on that.” A voice comes from the corner, and Danny recognizes him as one of the bat people. Or bird? The guy is in a lot of red and clearly wasn’t supposed to be in this meeting based on the way he’s propped in the corner. The room erupts in protest but Danny barely hears them through his excitement and focus on the dude.

“Great! I’ll have him back before the end of the day! Lets go Bird boy!” And with that, Danny grabbed the Bird, chucked them both through a portal back into his thrown room and begins to explain the way these eyeballs are totally trying to trap him into doing more work than he needs to do.

“What do I call you by the way? I’m Danny but you’ll probably hear them call me King Phantom.”

“I go by Red Robin, and honestly, I’ve been trying to get this shit taken care of for years.”

From there Tim becomes a regular consultant for King Phantom- the Bat Family is losing their minds with him constantly going to the land of the dead but also Constantine said not to piss off the king at all costs.

Danny is just thrilled that this dude has a shit ton of insight as well as business sense- like he could legit run the monarchy way better than him despite the fact that they’re the same age.

They end up working together for years, and even when there’s not an active issue at hand, Danny will meet up with the bird just to talk.

Sam and Tucker think they’re hilarious each time they ask if Danny’s proposed yet.

Tim has already planned their wedding but all of that information is in a folder more secured than the nuclear codes- Danny needs to ask him on a date first.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #Tim drake #dead tired #dc crossover #dp crossover #ehehehehe #also him just grabbing any random hero to help on any issue their power set might help to advise #danny outsourcing his issues is my favorite headcanon #boy wants to be helpful but also like is begging to just have one lazy Sunday #Tim drake is like ‘why would I not help run a monarchy in my spare time from running a Fortune 500 company and being a vigilante?’#tim drake is a menace #he’s what the eyeballs have nightmares about and they didn’t even think they could have nightmares

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notherpuppet · 7 months

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I know they’re probably not going to go into this (which i understand, there’s only so much time in an episode and they’re telling a different story) but I think about Al’s background a LOT. Get ready if ur in the mood for a read.

To be a mixed Black person in America is a…bizarre experience. You come to realize that due to the coincidence of your genetic makeup, white folks may divulge information that they keep so closely guarded from the ears of “more obvious-looking” black folks. Im gonna bring it back to Alastor, but lemme give some personal context. I’m mixed with Filipino, so I’m pretty obviously not white, yet my ambiguous ethnic makeup in a predominantly white suburbia seemed to make white peers and people feel much more at ease in relaying their criticisms or prejudices of black people to me. I would hear someone feel comfy enough to spew vitriolic racist shit with me, then toe the line like a circus acrobat when around someone a few shades darker in skin tone and a few coils curlier in hair texture. It was constantly infuriating and holding my tongue was a practice to both investigate someone’s true nature and preserve my own safety. I did abandon that method of navigating life in America, and experienced the switch-up white folks made when I started ‘broadcasting’ my blackness. (E.G. beyonce pre vs. post Lemonade). The criticisms and prejudice confessions just came less often, til I saw them being caged up completely after white peers experienced backlash from me. After they realized “OH this bitch is a n*****!?”

Now this is from someone who is brown, but i also wanna talk about my white-passing cousin with a similar racial makeup as Al, who is from the south and oh BOY. (Let’s call him J for this post’s purposes). J’s navigation though simple daily life is such a constant contradictory experience, of which he is still working through in therapy. I think of one moment when he was manager at retail gig and his boss told him that whenever a Black customer enters, it’s policy to give them “exceptionally attentive customer service”. Essentially, “follow that n***** around”. This is just one modern incident of when J would hear the quiet part out loud, despite his Blackness, because his appearance was white enough to make white folks drop their guard. Eventually, my cousin and I took to the same direction where we used our advantage of disarming white folks against them when the time came. We would keep note and record of racism and unlock a sort of “this you?” when the opportunity to expose that person’s true nature came. It’s pretty vengeful thinking ngl, but it is really REALLY hard to resist exposing an asshole rather than attempting to teach an asshole to change their ways. Especially given that such an attempt is an ARDUOUS uphill battle. The experience of KNOWING the truth about what someone thinks of your people, and being opened to opportunities and information that you would not have access to if the chance of your genetics was only slightly different is bIZARRE, horrific, and fuel for constant inner turmoil. (It sucks y’all)

Now back to Alastor; to have been a mixed person in the Deep South in 1930s America—it’s not too difficult for me to imagine how traumatic and convoluted that experience must have been. Especially when legally and socially, things were so much more Black and White. And when you’re on the line in between that, when society does not prepare a place for your existence, it can be SO isolating. You may consider the absurdity of such an arbitrary method of determining class, status, and/or caste much earlier in life than peers, which only further isolates you. You hold a resentment of society now that you know exactly how the other side is operating to ensure your oppression.

And then I think of Al’s weird ass moral code. How he arrived in Hell and (according to Mimzy) began killing overlords with reckless abandon. This is someone who likely had to develop the cunning to navigate 1930s Deep South America as a mixed, murdering, psychopath without getting caught by authorities who are already gunning for you. And now he is in Hell where the rules of society have gone up in smoke and he can fully embrace his rage, resentment, and vengeance. A desire to burn down the powerful people of the world can be accommodated and ANY previous inhibitions can finally be released. The morality of rising above someone by cutting them down (instead of developing emotional/spiritual healing) has become the easier and satisfying option. Finally the opportunity to show the power-secure villains of the world how easily you can tear them down when nothing is holding you back any longer.

TLDR; The trauma of racism in America is pretty sufficient cannon fodder for a severe psychotic break, the development of socially debilitating behaviors and isolation, and a quest for profound vengeance. So maybe that can explain some of the enigma that is Alastor.

And this is just ONE facet of Al. I didn’t even get to bring up the isolation that comes with being an aroace nonbeliever in the 1930s Deep South. Like FUCK. I’m a mixed, aroace nonbeliever from a modern day conservative town and yall….what a weird experience for sure lol but anyway lemme get back to my life. Whole point of this was—-WHAT AN INTERESTING FUCKEN CHARACTER TO THINK ABOUT

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel spoilers #it’s an alastor analysis yalllll #character analysis gives my media and art engagement brain the wiggles #also I hate racism!!!! :)

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etherealyoungk · 11 days

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love between the lines | chwe vernon

SUMMARY: despite the initial nerves of your new gig as an english literature TA, you’re ready to tackle the new job. that’s where you meet vernon, the computer science TA, and he’s interesting to say the least. he’s all about coding and numbers while you live and breathe poetry and novels. it’s clear that you both have contrasting interests and personalities - but they say opposites attract, right?

PAIRING: TA!vernon x TA!reader

THEMES: opposites attract, strangers to lovers, chaotic x calm dynamic

WARNINGS: fluff, kissing, silly antics

WORDCOUNT: 12k

A/N: this is part of the SVT TA collab hosted by @camandemstudios. and thank you to @gyuswhore and @highvern for hosting this collab and inviting me to join! i've been so excited about this, i hope you all enjoy reading! and do check out everyone else's work on this collab as well!

it’s been a week since you got the gig as an english literature TA at the university and you were thrilled despite the nervousness. you adjust the stack of poetry books and textbooks under your arm as you walk, feeling both excitement and nerves as you head to your fourth class of the week. thankfully it seemed like the students really liked you and your teaching methods, which you were utterly grateful for, otherwise you might have just quit then and there.

you’re so lost in your thoughts, that you collide with someone coming from around the corner. papers fly and scatter in all directions, and you look up to see the stranger in front of you, wide-eyed. “woah”, is all he says as he looks at you, rather calm despite the chaos that you seem to have caused around him.

“oh god, i'm so sorry!" you exclaim, bending down to help gather the papers, his papers, which were now scattered all over the floor.

the stranger doesn’t say much as he kneels beside you and reaches out to collect the sheets of papers. "no worries, it's not like these papers were organized to begin with”, he says, which somehow seems to ease your nerves.

you let out a small nervous chuckle as you collect the stray papers, your hands brushing accidentally. you glance down nervously, picking up your scattered books.

“are you new around here?”, he asks, recalling that he’s not seen you around before.

“yeah, i just joined the english literature department as a TA”, you tell, but he had sort of already deciphered that information with the stack of books you were carrying. he’d heard that someone had filled in that position last week, but never got around to being introduced to the person, until now.

“i’m vernon, the computer science TA”, he says and you smile softly at that piece of information. “nice to meet you”, you reply and you hand him the papers you had gathered. you tell him something about how you were running late for a lecture and part ways as he nods and goes back to his way.

it’s another work day and you’re in your office, typing away on your laptop as you plan some material for the next lecture. but your laptop seems to be glitching and working slower than usual. you furrow your brows in confusion as the file seems to be taking a little too long to download. you sigh and stare at your laptop screen, watching the download bar stay stuck at the same percentage for ten minutes now. you click your tongue in frustration and lean back in your chair. that’s when your mind wanders to vernon - he’d probably know what was going on. sure, you barely knew the guy, never spoke to him after you had bumped into him that day, but hey, was asking for help a crime? besides, maybe you could use this opportunity to get to know him better, plus he seemed like a decent guy. so you carry your laptop and head to vernon’s space, knocking on the slightly open door.

“come in”, he says, without looking up, his brows furrowed in concentration as he stares at his laptop screen.

“if this is about an extension on the deadline then oh-”, vernon starts but stops when he looks up and sees you.

“hi, sorry i hope i’m not interrupting anything?”, you ask as you stand in front of vernon with your laptop open in your hands.

“oh, no-no, what’s up?”, he asks, as he leans back in his chair a little.

“my laptop is acting kinda weird, it’s become really slow and stuff is taking ages to download. i thought you might know what’s the issue”, you tell, setting your laptop down on the table next to him.

he moves his laptop aside and brings yours in front of him as he tries to figure out the issue. your eyes wander to his laptop adorned with stickers and you read one of them.

why do programmers prefer dark mode? because light attracts bugs, you read in your mind and furrow your brows as it takes a few seconds for the joke to make sense before you smile softly at the joke.

you read another programming joke sticker that was slapped on his laptop and you laugh to yourself. “i think i’ve found the problem”, vernon says, snapping you back to reality and your eyes find him as you walk over to see what he was talking about.

“your storage is almost critically full, that’s why your laptop has slowed down. you should probably transfer some files to a hard drive and clear up some space on your laptop”, he explains and you nod at the new information vernon provides you with. see, it was a good idea you asked vernon for help or god knows what you might have done otherwise, thinking it might have been some other issue.

“oh, okay, i’m glad it’s not a major issue”, you add, relieved because you did not need your laptop dying out on you right now.

“no worries”, he says as he hands you back your laptop. you would have very much liked to stay back and talk to him more, but he looked so busy with whatever he was doing. you didn’t want to be a bother, so you leave, telling him thank you as you leave.

after that, you seem to see vernon and bump into him more, whether it be at the hallways or between classes. the one thing you couldn't help but notice was how vernon's constant companion was his laptop. he carried that thing everywhere like his life depended on it. and the condition of his laptop? that thing was covered in stickers, some with obscure programming jokes and others, which were a random mix of stickers that you were convinced he just slapped on there because he had nowhere else to put them. the other thing that was always a constant with him was the pair of headphones that adorned his neck. you swear you had never really seen him without those two things.

in your first two weeks as a TA, you discovered a new talent: bumping into people. apparently, your talent for bumping into people was unparalleled. why? because reading a book and walking down the hallways was definitely not advised. you might as well have been walking blindfolded with the number of students and faculty you accidently bumped into your first two weeks. that’s one way to make a first impression.

you were glad it wasn’t anything worse, but you needed to get your act together and you were hoping that things would ease up and smooth out soon. but if only you knew how wrong you were. it was like the universe was purposely conspiring against you to not have your TA gig go smoothly. you’re packing up to leave when you realize you can’t find your novel anywhere. you swear you had bought it along with you today to read on the bus, but now it was nowhere to be seen. you try to think of where you could have misplaced it and decide to check the lecture room since you might have left it there. you had rushed out of the room after the lecture so maybe you had forgotten it over there.

you walk to the lecture hall (without bumping into anyone thankfully) and enter, spotting vernon there. you walk in quietly, not wanting to disturb him since he looked really focused on whatever he was doing. the door closes behind you and your eyes scan the room for your book and voila, you spot it on the edge of the table where vernon was sitting. you quietly go up to him and grab your book when vernon looks up.

“i just forgot my book here”, you say immediately, like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t be before you turn around. you mentally slap yourself because why were you so nervous? you walk towards the door and your hand reaches out, grabbing onto the handle. but when you push the handle down, it doesn’t budge. you try again but it still doesn’t seem to move. you try to pull the door open but still no luck. what the hell?

you take a deep breath and try to open the door again, but find it stubbornly jammed. you wiggled the handle, pulled, and pushed it, but it remained immovably shut. vernon finally looks up with all the commotion you seem to be causing and he looks at you with a puzzled expression.

“is everything okay over there?” he asks as he looks at you.

“yeah totally, just on my way out”, you lie as you try the door handle again but it refuses to budge and you sigh.

“um, i think the door’s stuck,” you finally admit, your voice tinged with frustration as you turn to look back at vernon.

“oh”, is all he says before he closes his laptop shut with a soft thud and stands up. you watch as he walks over in your direction and tries the door handle, only to find it jammed like you said.

“i told them this door handle needed to be changed, it was bound to get jammed one day or the other,” he says.

“so we’re locked in,” you declare dramatically, eyes wide as you look at vernon.

“yeah, i guess,” vernon responds with a nonchalant shrug, as if being trapped in a room is just another regular tuesday evening for him.

“but how do we get out?” you ask, your voice rising in pitch as you look at vernon.

“i guess i could try to pick the lock, but since it’s jammed i don’t think that would work”, he says.

“pick the lock?”, you ask, almost horrified at his suggestion. “are you serious? we should call security or something”, you say instead.

vernon leans against the wall, clearly unfazed. “yeah, sure, but calling security sounds so... formal. plus there’s no guarantee they’ll actually come on time, so i guess we’re stuck here for a while”, he says with a light shrug of his shoulders.

you didn’t like the way vernon was so calm about this entire situation right now. you look at him, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “are you seriously this relaxed about being trapped in here?”

vernon tilts his head, as he looks at you. “yeah, why not? it’’s not like we’re in a life-or-death situation, it’s just a door, we’ll get out eventually.”

“eventually?” you repeat, your agitation growing. “what if ‘eventually’ turns into hours? what if we’re stuck here until everyone goes home for the day? do you really think that’s okay?”

“someone is bound to find us in the morning”, he says like he’s had experience being locked in a room before and is totally okay with spending the night trapped in here.

“i’m calling security”, you declare, as you dig your phone out of your jeans pocket, unable to comprehend vernon’s suggestion. as you explain the situation to the security, you can’t help but glance over at vernon, who’s back by the desk, perfectly calm and composed unlike you.

“alright, so security’s on their way,” you announce after a few minutes once you get off the phone. “they should be here in about... well, soon i hope”

“cool”, is all vernon says before silence envelops you both again. you walk up and take a seat in one of the lecture hall chairs up front.

“what are you working on?”, you ask vernon, in an attempt to make conversation because the awkward atmosphere in the air right now is killing you.

“just the assignment for the students”, he replies and you nod. “right”, you reply, fidgeting with your hands and fingers, trying to find some sort of distraction or thing to ground yourself back to reality.

you both stay quiet and time drags on. you’re praying for security or someone to come and save you because you couldn't do this any longer.

you’re sitting in silence, staring at the ground, lost in your thoughts when suddenly a loud sound erupts, jolting and scaring you and you end up knocking your ankle on the table leg and you yelp in pain.

you hear some voices outside the door and realize it must be security as they tried to forcefully open the door. vernon glances over at you.

“are you okay?”, he asks, standing up, looking a little concerned.

“y-yeah i’m fine”, you tell, waving your hand so he wouldn’t come closer, mostly embarrassed and desperately trying to convince him you weren’t a klutz.

once the door is successfully open, you almost make a run for it and make it back to your office, out of breath, suddenly rethinking your life choices and cursing. once safely inside, you collapse into your chair, mentally cursing for once again making a complete fool of yourself in front of vernon. it’s only after another minute you realize you had left your novel behind - again.

once your ankle feels a bit better and isn’t throbbing in pain anymore, you decide to go back to fetch your book. you’re in half a mind to just leave it there and go home because you did not want to see vernon again, not after what happened. but of course, the universe hates you and as fate would have it, you see vernon by the door of your office, holding your novel.

“hi, um you left your book back there”, he says as he takes a step inside.

you blink at him, then at the book, and finally manage a weak smile. “oh, silly me. thanks,” you say, taking the book, hoping your face wasn’t as red as it felt.

a few days later when you’re walking through the hallways, there seems to be a buzz in the air. you spot vernon walking in the hallways, headphones in as he seems to bob his head along to whatever music was playing. you watch as a few students approach him in excitement and speak to him. he keenly takes off his headphones and listens, smiling a little and you can hear him say “thank you” before walking off. this seems to happen a few times and you’re really starting to wonder why. you turn around as you ask your friend and fellow TA.

“why is everyone going up to vernon? did something happen?”, you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

“you didn’t hear? he got first place in the hackathon competition. it’s a pretty big competition, so it’s a pretty big deal”, they fill in.

“oh”, you reply. after your friend tells you. you later look up the competition and find out that it was indeed a really big deal. you’re walking to the cafe to get your daily caffeine fix when you spot a florist shop opposite the road. why not give vernon a bouquet to congratulate him? but then the second thoughts come; he wouldn’t think you were weird if you gave him flowers right? but then again, you saw the other faculty gave him a plant too, so you guessed there was no harm done if you gave him some flowers. so that’s how you’re walking back to your office with a small bouquet of flowers in your hand.

(expect no one told you that that he was allergic to flowers and you were blissfully unaware of what chaos you were about to cause)

just as you were about to enter the lobby, you notice vernon walking towards the building from the opposite direction and for some reason, your heart skips a beat. his hair is a little messy today, but falls cutely over his forehead.

“vernon!”, you call out and he looks up, surprised to see you as he eyes the flowers in your hands.

“hey”, he asks and you smile before you notice the way he was keeping a small distance between you both.

“congratulations on winning the hackathon! i thought you might like these, something for your win”, you say as you extend your hand out, holding out a small bouquet of flowers to him.

vernon eyes the bouquet, his expression shifting from surprised to slightly worried as he tries to maintain his composure as he reaches out to take the bouquet from you.

“oh, um, thanks. they’re really... nice”, he says to you and you beam, happy that he likes them.

but before vernon could say anything further, a sneeze erupts from him—loud and dramatic. he quickly tries to stifle it, but he sneezes again, and again and again.

“oh my gosh, are you okay?”, you ask, worried about the way he was sneezing all of a sudden.

vernon tries to wave off your concern, but the flowers were making it worse. his attempts to hide his discomfort were futile as he let out another series of sneezes.

“i-i’m fine! just a bit of… pollen...” he says before he sneezes again and your eyes widen in realization.

“oh my god, you’re allergic to flowers??’, you ask, reaching for the bouquet and nearly plucking it out of his hand, placing it on the bench that was nearby, hoping that the distance would make him feel better before you turn to face him again.

“i’m so sorry, i didn’t know you were allergic to flowers”, you say, mortified, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

vernon manages to find some tissues in his pocket and dabs his nose, managing to give you a weak smile.

“it’s alright”, he says, waving his hand in the air.

“what do you mean it’s alright?” you repeat, your voice rising in panic. “no, i almost killed you! oh my god, i’m so sorry!” you tell, horrified.

“it’s the thought that counts really. just maybe... no more flowers?”, he says through sniffles and you nod your head vigorously.

“of course, i’ll get you something else”, you add in a rush and vernon sneezes once more. you offer to grab him a coffee or something to help him recover from the unexpected pollen assault.

“how about i get you some coffee? i feel terrible about this”, you ask, biting the bottom of your lip in nervousness as you look at vernon with a hopeful look in your eyes. vernon, now recovering, manages to chuckle between sneezes.

“coffee sounds good”, he says, sniffling, his sneezes seeming to have gotten under control.

“again, i’m so sorry”, you tell, feeling bad about the incident earlier. it felt like the universe had a personal vendetta against you whenever you interacted with vernon.

“no worries, i’m all good now”, he says, giving you a small reassuring smile that seems to ease your heart. you get vernon his coffee and walk back to the university, both of you walking in silence now.

“again i’m so so sorry”, you repeat, still feeling bad about earlier, your voice filled with genuine regret.

“it’s really not a big deal,” he reassures you again. “i’m just glad it wasn’t worse. some people are really sensitive to that stuff”, he says. the silence between you now feels more comfortable, a mutual understanding hanging in the air. you appreciate his easy going nature and feel a bit of the tension melting away.

unbeknownst to you, vernon had taken the bouquet of flowers back to his office, carefully placing it in the corner of his room. even though he was still sneezing occasionally, he couldn’t bring himself to toss the flowers away. each time vernon glanced at the bouquet, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, being reminded of you.

a week later, as you’re wrapping up your day and heading out of the university. through the glass window of his door, you catch a glimpse of him sitting at his desk, rubbing his temple with a look of evident stress. concern nudges at you, and you decide to stop and check in on him.

you peek your head into the room. “hey, not heading out yet?” you ask, your voice gentle but curious. vernon looks up from his laptop, his eyes finding yours as he lets out a small sigh.

“no, i’m still here,” he replies, frustration evident in his tone. “i’m trying to figure out why this website keeps crashing.”

you step inside, curiosity piqued. “website?” you prompt, your mind quickly connecting the dots. you remembered that vernon does freelance work on the side, a detail you found impressive and one that explained why he carried his laptop practically everywhere.

“yeah,” he continued, frustration clear in his voice. “it’s this website that crashes whenever too many users try to access it at once.”

you nod thoughtfully, drawing on your own experience. “you know, maybe you should take a break. sometimes when i get stuck on a piece of writing, stepping away and coming back to it later helps me see things more clearly”, you say.

you watch as vernon nods slowly, as he considers your suggestion, a small smile of appreciation flickering across his face. “yeah, i guess you’re right.”, he replies as he closes his laptop with a resigned click, and begins to pack up his bag. you both walk out of the office together, the weight of the day lifting slightly with each step.

you could sense that vernon was a bit tense, perhaps still unwinding from a long day or just not fully at ease because of the problem he couldn't solve earlier. the silence between you was starting to feel a bit heavy, and you wanted to lighten the mood. you racked your brain for something to break the ice. but you didn’t know what to say, not wanting to say anything silly again so you kept quiet.

“well, i hope you can solve that issue soon!”, you tell after a few seconds of silence and he nods. “me too”.

the next day, you decide to take a little break before your office hours and head out, deciding to grab a coffee. you’re armed with the copy of two books, one that you were reading for class and another that you were reading on your own. you’re about to turn the corner when you bump into vernon - again.

“woah”, he says, just like the first time, still cool as a cucumber.

“shit, i’m sorry”, you tell, laughing softly. “no worries”, he says, his eyes falling on the two books in your hands.

“you seem to always be in a rush”, he tells, adjusting his cap on his head. “i guess my mind is always racing and my feet somehow follow that”, you tell, joking and he nods again. it was like that was his default reaction.

“oh, by the way, i managed to fix that issue”, he tells, his face seeming to light up when he spoke to you this time.

“the one where the website kept crashing?”, you prompt and he nods. you start walking in the direction of the cafe and he follows beside you.

“that’s great, what was the issue?”, you ask, completely oblivious of all the technical terms that vernon was about to use.

“it turns out that the issue was with how i was managing the server resources. i had to optimize the code that handles incoming requests and i found this bottleneck where the server was getting overloaded, so i streamlined the process”, he explains and you furrow your brows as you try to make sense of what he was saying but who were you kidding, you had no idea what he was talking about.

“oh, that sounds…challenging”, you tell, hoping it didn’t sound like you were an idiot somehow.

“kind of, but i monitored the server's performance metrics and analyzed the logs and i was able to figure out where the issue was. once i made those tweaks, the website started handling traffic like a pro and didn’t crash anymore”, he tells proudly and you nod along.

“woah, that’s impressive”, you add, giving him a thumbs up as you walk, hoping it didn’t seem obvious that you didn’t really understand what he just told you and the only thing you actually managed to understand was that he solved the issue.

he turns to glance at you and the confusion is clear on your face as you nod along and praise him. he looks down and smiles to himself before looking back up at you, finding this whole situation funny and maybe a little cute because of you.

“you didn’t understand a word i said did you?”, he prompts and you feel the tips of your ears getting red out of embarrassment. “i did..i-i understood that you solved it”, you tell quickly. but you give in after a few seconds. “okay fine, i have no idea what you said but whatever it was, it sounds impressive”, you confess.

“it’s basically like having a rush hour at a store and there’s not enough staff to help around”, he starts off, explaining it to you in more simple terms. “so i had to make a code that handles requests run smoother. i also found a spot where everything was getting stuck, like a traffic jam. once i fixed it, it was like organizing a line so everyone gets their food faster without bumping into each other”, he tells and you nod in understanding this time.

“oh wow, that’s cool, that makes so much sense”, you repeat, impressed.

you reach the cafe and step inside, vernon beside you. you order a latte and ask vernon if he wants anything but he denies. so you just wait for your drink and he waits with you.

“how are you liking being a TA so far?”, he asks as he meets your gaze, adjusting the usual blue cap on his head.

“i think it’s going well, i have a knack for teaching you know”, you say with a small smile, happy. “i’m enjoying it, though sometimes it does test my patience a little”, you add and he chuckles as he nods along in understanding.

you grab your coffee when it’s ready and you both walk back to class, parting ways in the hallway as you head to your lecture and vernon to his.

it’s after office hours and the hallways were quieter. you’re making your way towards the library, the weight of your laptop bag and a stack of books pulling on your shoulders as you walk. your notebook and pens were carefully balanced in one hand. you spot vernon walking down and you give him a small wave when you reach closer. he stops, giving you a small nod of acknowledgement as he takes in the books and laptop you’re carrying, or lugging around again.

“going somewhere?” he asks, his tone casual but with an underlying hint of curiosity.

“yeah,” you reply, adjusting the stack of books so they don't topple over. “i’m heading to the library to finish up some work.” vernon’s eyes follow you as you speak. “cool,” is all he says, his usual nonchalant reply that seemed to be his standard for everything.

you continue on your way to the familiar space of the library, navigating through the shelves and pathways to find your favorite spot - it was hidden in the back, right next to the window and was the perfect cozy spot to study, read or just hide in fact. you set down your laptop and open up your notebook to plan your next lecture and assignment. you open your laptop and are ten minutes into your work session when you hear the soft patter of footsteps approaching. you glance behind, eyes widening when you see who was stepping into your little hideaway.

you don’t expect to see vernon there. it was a rare and almost jarring sight; vernon and the library didn’t seem to mix well. his usual hangout was more likely the the local coffee shop or staying holed up in his own office, definitely not the library. you hesitate, caught off guard by this unexpected encounter. vernon looks at you and there’s a hint of something in his eyes.

“hey”, you say softly, trying to keep your tone casual despite the curiosity lingering inside you. “didn’t expect to see you here”.

vernon shrugs, his relaxed demeanor unshaken. “yeah, i guess i needed a change of scenery.” he shifts on his feet, his eyes glancing over the empty space next to you. you reach out and bring your books to your side of the table.

“you can join me if you want”, you add and vernon nods, taking a seat next to you. “thanks”, he says, placing his laptop down before opening it and getting to work. it was strange, trying to focus on your work while sharing the space with someone who seemed so out of place here. the silence between you both was punctuated only by the rustling of pages by you and the soft but steady clacking of vernon typing away on his laptop.

you lift your head up and peek into what he was doing too curious for your own good, only to see him effortlessly writing some code. in your eyes, it was like he was almost writing gibberish, making no sense to you whatsoever. to you, it looked like a jumble of incomprehensible characters, a stark contrast to the structured organization of your notes. but there was something so fascinating about the way he worked, and you find yourself staring into his screen for a little longer than you’d have liked before you realize, averting your eyes back to your own laptop.

after a while, you start to get sleepy. all the late night you pulled were starting to catch up to you and you felt your eyes drooping slowly, unable to concentrate or write anymore. you rest your chin on your hand as you slowly start to doze off.

vernon, who was engrossed in his coding, notices your struggle to stay awake when. he tries to stay focused on his work, but every so often, his eyes dart back over to you, noting how you seemed to be fighting a losing battle against sleep. he wasn’t quite sure what to do so he just lets you be. in the end you seem to lose and you end up dozing off. your pen falls out of your hand, rolling onto the floor.

quietly, he slips out of his chair and retrieves his jacket, picking up your pen too, placing it on the table. he gently drapes his jacket over your shoulders as you sleep, hoping it would make you more comfortable. the jacket was a bit oversized, but he hoped it would do the trick. however, in his attempt to make you more comfortable, vernon found himself in a tough spot. you shift and find a new resting place - right on vernon’s shoulder. he’s caught off guard, his eyes widening in surprise as you snuggle right into his shoulder and he freezes, unsure how to react. he tries to remain still, not wanting to wake you or disrupt the surprisingly cozy situation. he makes the quiet decision to wait it out, not sure whether he should wake you up or not. he focuses back on his laptop screen, though his attention keeps drifting back to you. with the weight of your head resting on his shoulder, vernon couldn't seem to focus at all.

finally, after what felt like an eternity of indecision and awkwardness, you stir awake. your eyes flutter open, initially disoriented by the dim light and the unfamiliar feeling of having drifted off to sleep in the middle of your work. lifting your head from vernon’s shoulder, you blinked in surprise at the sight of him.

“oh, i didn’t mean to fall asleep”, you mumble as you come back to your senses. it’s only after a few seconds later that you put two and two together.

“oh…OH…i’m so sorry”, ” you exclaim, rubbing your eyes and trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. “i didn’t mean to—”

vernon doesn’t say anything, though his face is still a bit flushed. “it’s alright. you looked like you needed sleep. i just wasn’t expecting you to use me as a pillow.”, he says matter of factly.

you try to laugh it off, but your face is burning with embarrassment. “i hope i didn’t sleep for long”, you ask, unaware of how much time had passed. 15 minutes? 20 minutes?

“you slept for almost two hours”, vernon fills in and your hand flies up to cover you mouth in shock. no way. you had not just slept on vernon’s shoulder for almost two hours? what was wrong with you?

“yeah, i wasn’t sure if i should wake you or let you sleep. it seemed like you really needed it.”, he says like it was no big deal and you feel a wave of mortification wash over you.

“i’m so sorry for making you sit here like that. i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” you tell, and that’s when you notice vernon’s jacket draped around you. you slide it off your shoulders and hand it back to vernon, but there’s still the lingering warmth it’s left behind on your shoulders. the fabric still holds the faint scent of him, a mix of cedar and something faintly sweet.

you shift uncomfortably in your seat, the blush from earlier now a persistent warmth in your cheeks. “i didn’t mean to make you wait so long,” you stammer, trying to regain some composure. “i must have really zonked out”, you tell, feeling bad about having our vernon in an awkward position. “it’s alright,” he says. “sometimes you just need a good nap”.

the next morning is bright and clear, but you can’t shake the feeling of awkwardness from the previous day. the campus buzzes with its usual mix of students rushing between classes and professors hurrying to meetings. you on the other hand are mentally preparing for a day full of avoiding vernon—mostly because you’re still embarrassed about falling asleep on him.

but your plan goes down the drain the moment you see vernon. you’re about to turn around but his gaze finds you before you can, and turning around now would make it seem like you were actually running away. instead, you slow down and he makes his way towards you. he’s dressed in his usual laid-back attire—jeans and a university hoodie.

“morning”, he says once he’s close enough and you give him a friendly smile. “morning,” you mumble, avoiding eye contact. vernon, unfazed by your clear attempt to escape a conversation, continues talking.

“did you sleep well?”, he asks and you swear there was almost a hint of humor in the way he asked it.

“oh, uh, yeah, great,” you stammer, trying to sound calm and collected. “i slept really well”, you say, giving him a thumbs up before mentally cringing, forcing your hands down. vernon chuckles, the sweet sound of his laughter filling the air between you both. he smiles at you and you swear your heart almost skips a beat, two maybe, before he speaks again.

“i’m just teasing you”, he adds, the corners of his mouth still lifted up into a smile and you feel your cheeks heat up as you blink at him. “see you around”, he adds, before walking ahead, leaving you behind, your heart a fluttering mess.

the next week you, when you’re walking down the hallway, you spot vernon. but you didn’t expect him to look so good. he was wearing a light baby blue hoodie, his dark hair was tousled in that effortlessly cute way. but the thing that made you do a double take was the pair of glasses he was wearing. they sat perched on his nose, framing his eyes in a way that was somehow both endearing and charming, making him look adorable. for a moment, you can’t tear your gaze away. your heart skips a beat and it’s like your brain short circuited and stopped working for a second because the next thing you know, you’re walking right into the wall instead of turning the corridor. the sudden impact jolts you back to reality, and you blink, staring at the blank wall in surprise.

you turn around to see vernon’s amused, but also concerned, his glasses perched at just the right angle to make his eyes twinkle. he waves at you, closing the gap between you both. shit, vernon didn’t see you walk into the wall right? he totally did.

“are you okay?” he asked, clearly trying to stifle a laugh.

you could feel your cheeks flush as you rub the spot where you’d collided with the wall. “yeah, i’m fine,” you manage to reply, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

“just a little distracted, no big deal.”, you tell, trying to play it off. a smile still tugs at the corners of vernon’s lips. “i-i should go”, you tell, turning around and walking away, mentally preparing to dig your own grave and bury yourself because why did you have to be such an idiot in front of vernon.

“well, watch where you’re going”, he calls out as he watches you walk away.

after office hours you decide to retreat to the familiar space of the library again. somehow being surrounded by books always seemed to ease your mind. on your way to library, you bump into vernon, his laptop tucked under his arm like always. he, in fact, had been looking for you. he’d dropped by your office but when he didn’t find you there, he thought you had gone home. but he decided to scan the library once since knew you spent a lot of time here as well. his eyes light up when he spots you here in your usual spot.

“hi”, vernon’s voice floats in, making you look up to see him. “h-hey”, you say, caught off guard by his presence again, the events of last evening flashing through your mind. “mind if i join you again?”, he asks and you shake your head, indicating he could sit. you both settle down at the back corner of the library, occupying a small table. you open up the book, the one you were re-reading for the nth time. you bring out your sticky notes and pens, ready to make notes and mark important points or quotes from the book since this was a book that was assigned for class reading.

vernon opens up his laptop and starts working on trying to debug the code for a program he was building. you both work in silence, vernon typing away on his laptop while you read the book, making notes. after almost 30 minutes, vernon stretches and looks over at you, admiring the way you were engrossed in the book you were reading. he could see the expressions you made as you read - a soft smile when something funny was happening or the way your brows furrowed when something intense was happening. he thought it was cute.

you seem to notice his gaze on you and look up. you glance at the time and decide to take a break too, closing your book.

“what are you up to?”, you ask, recalling what you saw on his screen yesterday. “you were like writing a million lines of code the other day”, you tell and he nods. “yeah, i’m debugging this program”, he explains.

“how’s it going?”, you ask, leaning forward. “i think i’ve almost solved it”, he says, satisfied.

"don't you ever get tired of reading the same book over and over?" he asks after a few seconds of silence, genuine curiosity lighting up his face. you pause for a moment, considering his question. it wasn't the first time someone had asked you this.

"never" you say, a smile spreading across your face. "in fact, it's quite the opposite.whenever i re-read a book, it's like going on a treasure hunt and every time i re-read the pages, i uncover something new, stumble upon details i missed before, and uncover deeper meanings.", you start to explain.

vernon leaned back in his chair, his curiosity piqued, and you continued to speak.

you grab the well worn copy of the book you were reading and hold it out to show vernon. "take this book for example. each time i read it, i connect with the characters in a different way”, you add on.

he nods, his eyes reflecting understanding. "so, it's like the book grows with you," he says, intrigued by your perspective.

"exactly!" you reply, nodding eagerly.

“and i’ve been thinking about how programming and literature seem like polar opposites at first glance, but actually have some similarities”, you tell, suddenly overcome with passion and vernon watches the way your eyes light up as you explain your theory to him.

“you just think about it—both fields involve decoding and interpreting systems, just in different forms. for you,it’s deciphering algorithms and building code and for me it's analyzing and breaking down a characters' motivations and feelings”, you tell.

vernon nods as you talk, taking it all in. “that's an interesting way to put it, i never thought of it that way”, vernon says as your words sink in. “and the best part? there’s creativity in both”, you add like the cherry on top. as you continue, the flow of conversation feels so natural that you don’t immediately realize you’re starting to ramble.

“it's fascinating how different disciplines can share common ground. we may approach problems from opposite ends of the spectrum, but our goals are surprisingly similar”, he says and you smile with the way he gets you.

“exactly! so maybe we both aren’t so different after all”, you add, laughing softly. the enthusiasm in your voice only grows, until suddenly, you catch yourself in mid-sentence, your words faltering and growing softer until you stop speaking and you feel a flush creeping up your cheeks. “sorry, i didn’t mean to bore you with all this”.

vernon’s expression shifts from one of engaged interest to gentle reassurance, shaking his head. “bore me? not at all. i actually find it really interesting.”

you let out a relieved sigh, feeling a bit more at ease. “really? i just felt like i was going on and on. sometimes i get a bit—well, you know, enthusiastic about these things.”

you glance at the time on your phone before looking back up at vernon. “wanna take a break and grab some coffee?”, you ask and he nods. “sure”

there was just something about vernon that made you look around for him in the hallways as you stole glances at him. maybe it was the way he was so cool, calm and collected unlike you - a mess.

a few months pass and you and vernon slowly get closer, talking more, hanging out more and it was like you were slowly bringing vernon out of his shell. you got to know a completely different side to him and he was fun, sweet and really cute as well.

“have you noticed how vernon is acting so differently these days?”, one of his students say. “yeah, you know the other day i saw him in the library!”, the other one explains.

“what? that’s insane”, the other student fills in. “there’s something definitely up. i remember him telling me that the wifi in the library was shitty so he didn’t like to work there”, the other student adds on.

“oh my god”, the second student tells as realization dawns. “what?”, the other two ask.

“i think vernon has a crush on the english TA”, they say. “wait, that’s so cute. that would make sense. i’ve seen them hanging out a lot and he’s been acting different too. he’s not holed up at his desk like before and i swear he smiles more when he’s talking with the english TA”, the first student adds.

vernon never expected to be so intrigued by someone like you. he was a computer science major, someone who thrived on structure and logic. but then there was you, an english literature major, always in some world or another, lugging around books everyday like it was nothing. despite their differences, he couldn't help but feel drawn to you. you seemed to have entered his life, bringing a whirlwind of chaos and charm.

you’re helping a student, because shakespeare was proving to be difficult for some students. “if you need more help on how to structure the essay, let me know, i can give you some guidelines”, you explain to the student in front of you.

“miss yn, i think vernon has a crush on you”, your students says, making you snap your head up because how did vernon suddenly come up?

“what? don’t be ridiculous”, you tell but your student just gives you a look.

“i’m serious! you know he never used to wander around the halls much, but ever since you joined, he has. he hangs out with you alot”, your student adds.

“that’s because we’re good friends”, you correct, giving them a look, but it was like they knew better.

“and he’s totally crushing on you, my friend does computer science and she can read all the signs”, your student explains further.

“what signs?”, you ask, confused. “that he’s crushing on you. he’s hanging out with you, he smiles more often, he’s not wearing hoodies all the time and he’s hanging out in the library with you? he is totally crushing on you miss yn”, your student explains and suddenly you find yourself at a loss for words.

“maybe if you put this much effort in your essay you’d score higher marks”, you tell with a straight face, bringing the attention back to the topic at hand. you student only seems to sigh in defeat.

“you both would make a really cute couple you know”, you student tells with a small chuckle as they walk out, leaving you shy but also wondering…did vernon really have a crush on you?

the idea of something like that seemed impossible. you both were so similar yet so different so the idea that he might like you, the possibility that he might have a crush on you stirred something in your heart. it would be a lie to deny that you didn’t like him or have developed a small crush on him too. but the thought that he might feel the same way? that’s something you hadn’t seriously considered until now.

tonight you find yourself staying late again to grade the papers that were given last week. vernon stood hesitantly outside the office door, his hand hovering over the handle as he took a deep breath to steady himself. he wasn't used to feeling nervous—usually, he was the calm and cool guy who approached situations with a quiet confidence. but tonight was different - he was nervous. summoning his courage, vernon knocked softly on your door, his heart beating a little faster than usual.

you looked up, surprised yet pleasantly so, as vernon entered. your smile widened at the sight of him, a welcomed interruption from the monotony of grading.

“i heard you were working late and bought some snacks”, he says, holding up a bag of food and you smile at the thoughtful gesture.

“you’re a lifesaver, i was actually so hungry”, you tell as vernon opens the bag and hangs you a pack of chips, which surprisingly in your favorite flavor. you take it, telling him a small thank you as vernon takes a seat in front. his eyes wander to the papers on your desk.

“tough class?”, he asks. “yeah but it’s rewarding in a way”, you tell as you bite on a chip and chew.

“do you have lots of paper’s left to grade?”, he asks, looking at the stack, feeling unsure because his plans might fall through otherwise.

“oh, just two more actually, those are all done”, you tell, following his gaze and he looks relieved.

“i’ll wait for you, we can head out together”, he says and you smile softly, nodding your head before you get back to grading your papers. vernon watches at you grade the papers in concentrations, your brows furrowed slightly as you read through the essays your students had written, your pen marking places that were good, or need improvement.

once you finish, you pack up your things and you're walking with vernon outside as he offers to walk you to the bus stop. you’re mind wanders to vernon and what you students were telling you earlier. was it that obvious you had a crush on vernon? you briefly glance at him before looking down at your feet, feeling your nerves rise up. you reach the bus stop and you both are standing there. vernon looks at you, noticing your distant expression, like something was weighing on your mind.

“everything alright?” he asks, slightly concerned.

you snap back to the present, giving him a slightly awkward but genuine smile. “oh, yeah, everything’s fine. just... thinking about stuff.”, you say as you dig your hands in the pocket of your coat.

vernon raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press further. “well, if you need to talk about anything or if you just want to grab a coffee and chat, let me know.”

you nod, a smile playing on your lips. “sure, that sounds nice. i’ll definitely take you up on that offer”, you reply as you see your bus come. as you sit in the bus, you can’t help but replay vernon’s words in your head. did he mean that as a friend or something more?

as you spend more time with vernon, both of you spending more time hanging out in the library, you start to notice the subtle changes in your feelings, how your heart flutters a little more each time vernon flashes that easygoing smile of his or how you look forward to those quiet moments spent with him in the library. the more you get to know him, the more you appreciate the effortless way he balances his laid-back demeanor with a genuine interest in your thoughts and feelings.

as vernon spends more time with you in the library, he can’t help but notice how his feelings have evolved from casual admiration to something more. he’s used to being reserved and laid-back, but you’ve managed to stir something in him that he didn’t quite expect. your energy is infectious, and despite his usually reserved nature, he finds himself drawn to you more and more.

seungkwan leaned forward in his chair at the café, taking a hearty bite of his sandwich. his eyes flicked up at vernon, who was sitting across from him with just an iced americano.

“so, how’s the TA thing going?” seungkwan asks, his mouth still half-full. he was genuinely curious about how things were unfolding for his friend. he’d considered becoming a TA too, but he didn’t think he had the patient to teach.

“it’s going good,” vernon replies, taking a sip of his drink and meeting seungkwan’s gaze. he tries to sound nonchalant, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor, a lightness that seungkwan couldn’t quite place.

“who was the person with you earlier? the one you were chatting with?”, seungkwan prods.

“oh,” vernon said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “they’re another TA at the university.”

seungkwan raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued at the information. “you guys see each other a lot then?”

vernon’s smile grows a little wider, though he tries to keep his tone casual. “yeah, we hang out pretty often. they’re fun to be around.”

seungkwan doesn’t miss the way vernon’s eyes soften when he mentions you. his curiosity is piqued and he leans in slightly, his grin widening as he sets down his sandwich, wiping his hand with a tissue. “fun, huh? you don’t usually talk about people like that”, seungkwan says as he looks at vernon with that look in his eyes, like he knew something more.

vernon hesitated, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. “well, they’re just… different. you know? they make everything feel a bit more… lively. it’s a nice change from my usual routine.”

seungkwan’s grins wider and he gives vernon a look. “sounds like someone’s got a bit of a crush. i’ve never seen you talk about anyone like this before.”

vernon’s eyes widen at seungkwan’s statement, caught off guard by his words. he clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. “it’s not like that. i just… enjoy their company”, vernon defends, but really, it’s no use against seungkwan.

seungkwan chuckles. “sure, sure. i’m just saying. i’ve seen you deal with enough spreadsheets and code to know when someone’s making a difference. you seem happier these days.”

there’s a hint of a smile still lingering on vernon’s face. “i guess you could say that.”

the conversation shifted to other topics, but vernon’s thoughts lingered on you. seungkwan’s observations were spot on, despite his attempts to keep things casual, he had to admit that you had brought a spark of excitement and unpredictability into his life. and as he looked at seungkwan, he realized that maybe, just maybe, there was something more to these encounters than he had originally thought.

it’s the final week of classes before summer break rolls in. the campus is abuzz with students rushing to finish assignments and prepare for exams. you’ve been swamped with work, grading papers and wrapping up last-minute things. by the time you finally pack up and leave the office, the sun has dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the campus.

the campus, usually lively with students and faculty, has quieted down. you walk briskly towards the exit, your thoughts occupied with a mix of relief and anticipation for the summer break. you could really use a break. as you step outside, you spot a familiar figure standing by the edge of the path, bathed in the soft light of a nearby lamp post - vernon.

he stands there with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his posture relaxed as he stands there. as soon as his eyes meet yours, his face breaks into a warm, welcoming smile.

“hey,” he calls out, his voice carrying easily across the still evening air.

“hey,” you reply, walking towards him. “what are you doing here?”

“i was just… waiting for you,” he says, a touch of uncertainty creeping into his voice. “i thought i’d see if you wanted to grab a coffee or something before you head back home. i know things have been pretty hectic with the end of the semester and all.”

you nod, giving him a smile at his thoughtfulness. it’s moments like these that make your heart skip a beat, and you realize that the time for the conversation you’ve been dreading is now. you’ve been meaning to ask vernon out for weeks, but each time you gathered the courage, you found yourself faltering, your intentions falling short of actual words.

but the idea of not seeing him over the summer, of leaving things as they are, feels unbearable. you don’t have it in you to wait that long. the thought of waiting until after the break, when you’ll have more time to analyze, second-guess, and overthink would drive you crazy instead. so you’ve decided that tonight is the night. as you both walk together towards the coffee shop, the casual conversation flows easily, but you can’t shake the knot of nervous anticipation in your stomach. vernon orders the coffee, his calm energy making you feel a bit more at ease.

as you wait for your drinks, the silence between you seems charged with unspoken words. vernon looks over at you, a curious expression on his face. “something on your mind?”, he prompts and you shake your head in a hurry, feeling nervous all of a sudden. it’s only after you finish your coffee and you’re walking back that you finally pluck up the courage to ask him.

“hey vernon”, you start, your voice bright but slightly hesitant. he looks up at you, eyebrows raised in curiosity, clearly waiting for you to continue. you fidget with your hands, then look up at him, trying to meet his gaze directly.

“i was wondering if you were free sometime next week? we could grab dinner or something?”, you ask, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness as the words tumble out of your mouth. you can see the surprise and curiosity in vernon’s eyes as he processes what you’ve just said.

“me?”, he asks as he points to himself. you let out a soft laugh, trying to ease the awkwardness. “yes, you, silly. who else?” you say, letting out a nervous smile. you felt your cheeks warm up as you waited for him to answer.

oh…wait was yn asking me out?

“oh um…”, vernon’s eyes widened, and he suddenly seemed very interested in the cement footpath, his gaze darting around, flickering everywhere but you as he shifts from foot to foot, looking anywhere but directly at you, trying to process what you just asked.

“i’m not sure, i might be busy”, he finally says, but he doesn’t miss the way your smile seems to fall off your face. you try to keep your tone upbeat despite the slight disappointment. “oh, okay. no worries,” you say, trying to sound casual. had you just been rejected?

you go home, feeling embarrassed because what if vernon would avoid you now? you’d hate that and maybe you were starting to think you shouldn't have asked him out on that dinner offer. had you just blown things between you both? maybe you’d misunderstood his feelings after all.

vernon sat opposite seungkwan, but his attention was somewhere else. seungkwan, his friend, was chatting animatedly about something that vernon was barely registering.

“vernon? are you even listening to me?” seungkwan’s voice floats in, shaking vernon from his thoughts.

“huh? yeah, i’m listening,” vernon replies, as he tries to focus his attention back on seungkwan.

seungkwan narrows his eyes. “what was i talking about?” he challenges, clearly not buying vernon’s half-hearted attention.

vernon’s mouth opened and closed as he scrambles to recall the conversation, but nothing came to mind. “uh… i, um…” he stammers, looking sheepish.

“you okay? you seem really lost,” seungkwan probed.

vernon sighs and looks down, a bit embarrassed as he rubs the back of his neck in nervousness. “you know that TA i told you about? they asked me if i was free next week to have dinner”, vernon slowly explains.

seungkwan’s eyes widen in surprise. “so, what did you say?” seungkwan asks in anticipation.

vernon only shrugs, “i wasn’t sure, so i told them i might be busy”

seungkwan’s jaw drops in disbelief upon hearing his friend’s words. “WHAT?” he almost yells, startling vernon. “dude, they were totally asking you out!”, seungkwan says and he was practically vibrating with excitement.

vernon’s mouth formed a small ‘O’ as realization hit him. “oh,” he said quietly, as it dawned on him.

seungkwan’s frustration seemed to escalate. “are you kidding me? they asked you out on a date, and you what? you said that were busy? oh my god”, seungkwan exclaims dramatically at his friend's cluelessness.

“i didn’t know they meant it like that,” vernon defends, his face flushing with embarrassment.

“you’re an idiot, that’s what you are, an idiot”,” seungkwan mutters, shaking his head in disappointment and disbelief. “you better go on that date man, seriously.”, seungkwan threatens as he points at vernon with a mix of exasperation and encouragement.

“yeah, i’ll think about it, i guess” vernon mumbles, his mind already racing. “there’s no thinking, you’re going and it’s final”, seungkwan says like he had the final say in the matter, looking vernon up and down, baffled at his friend’s idiocy.

that night, as vernon lay in bed, he couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling that he had missed a golden opportunity. every time he replayed the conversation in his head, he felt like a complete fool. the more he thought about it, the more he realized just how much he wanted to go on that date with you.

“i’m such an idiot,” he mutters to himself, tossing and turning as images of you flashed through his mind. the more he thought about you, the clearer it became: he definitely wanted to go on that dinner date with you.

by morning, vernon is determined and he would figure out a way to make it up to you. but as classes go on, vernon can’t seem to focus on anything. he couldn't stop thinking about you.

the hours dragged by, each minute stretching longer than the last as vernon tried to get through his lectures and office hours. every time he glanced at the clock, he felt a pang of urgency. finally, when the last class was over, he packed up his things with an unusual sense of determination.

as he made his way across campus, his mind raced. he had no idea what he was going to say, but he knew he couldn’t let the opportunity slip away. he spots you just outside the university building, chatting with a couple of friends. his heart pounds as he approaches you, the sound of his footsteps seeming louder than usual.

“hey, vernon!” you greet, your voice warm with familiarity. your friends took the cue and started to drift away, saying they had to head to the other department, leaving you both alone.

“hey, um…” vernon began, his voice shaky but filled with resolve. “can i talk to you for a second?” he asks, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

you’re still bummed about last night’s rejection, unsure of what vernon might say. “sure, what’s up?”

vernon took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. “about last night…” he starts, fumbling with his words, glancing around as if seeking reassurance from the familiar surroundings. “i was thinking about what you asked me, and, um-”, he starts but you cut him off, a hint of nervousness creeping into your voice.

“it’s okay if you don’t want to,” you blurt out quickly, trying to mask your own anxiety. you were suddenly aware of the awkward tension between you both and wanted to avoid making things worse. “i mean, you don’t have to feel pressured or anything. we’re going to be seeing each other a lot, so”, you say, the nerves getting to you.

vernon blinks at you, looking even more confused. “wait, what?”, he asks, his brows knitted together as he tries to make sense of your words.

you sigh, feeling your cheeks grow even hotter as you scramble to find the right words. “i know i asked you out, and i totally understand if you’re not interested or if you feel weird about it. i just don’t want you to feel like you have to say yes because—” you trail off, suddenly feeling defeated.

vernon’s confusion only deepens. “actually, i came to say yes”, vernon finally says and you lift your head up to look at him. “yes to the dinner date”, he adds and your eyes widen in surprise.

“wait, really?”, you ask as you continue to look at him.

“yeah, really,” vernon affirms, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“oh”, is all you can say, the word coming out in a surprised whisper before you let out a nervous laugh.

vernon chuckles along, rubbing the back of his neck as if to chase away his own nerves.

“yeah, i was kind of an idiot about it, but i’m glad we’re on the same page now.” he adds bashfully.

you try to hide the smile on your face, but you can’t help it and a small smile grows on your face at his confession. the awkward atmosphere between you both is replaced with relief.

“so, it’s a date then?” vernon asks, his tone playful as he raises an eyebrow.

you nod, feeling a little shy but also excited. “yes, it’s definitely a date”, you reply, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you and vernon’s grin widens as he nods his head along to your words, meeting your gaze and smiling even wider.

it had been almost two months since you and vernon began dating, and things had turned out to be quite charming. the students seemed to love the idea of you two being together, some even going so far as to place bets on whether or not you’d end up as a couple or not. the playful speculation had become a running joke, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how obvious you both must have been about your feelings.

“see, i told you vernon had a crush on you,” one of your students chimes in during office hours. you roll your eyes, trying to maintain a professional demeanor.

“please finish your essay on time, no more deadline extensions,” you say, trying to steer the conversation back to academic matters.

“but you guys are really cute together,” your student adds, and you couldn’t help but smile softly.

“alright, aren’t you going to be late for class?” you ask, glancing at the time. as the student hurried out, you spent the rest of the day preparing notes for the next lecture, enjoying the quiet solitude of your office.

later, as you nestled into your favorite corner of the library—a spot you’d claimed as your own hiding place—vernon appears at the entrance. his eyes scan the room before landing on you with a grin.

“i thought i might find you here,” vernon says proudly, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and affection.

“my hiding spot has been busted,” you declare dramatically, making a show of pretending to be disappointed.

vernon chuckles at your antics. “i think if you were given permission, you’d practically live here.”

“maybe,” you said with a playful glint in your eye. “the idea doesn’t sound all that bad. don’t tempt me.”, you prompt and vernon only laughs more.

“well, it’s a good thing i’m here to keep you company. how’s the work coming along?”

you pat the empty space beside you. “better now that you’re here”.

vernon settles next to you. “just promise you won’t fall asleep again”, vernon asks and you look at him, feigning offense.

“it’s called taking a power nap”, you defend and he laughs.

“yeah, just don’t use me as a pillow because last time you drooled on my shirt”, he says, making you give him a look.

“i did not!”, you retort. “you totally did, i took a picture as proof”, he says.

“yeah right, you’re lying”, you say, rolling your eyes.

“wanna bet?” vernon asks as he pulls out his phone, flipping through his photos with an air of mischief. “here it is.” he shows you a blurry, yet unmistakable photo of you snoozing peacefully, a small droplet evident on his shirt.

you feel your cheeks heat up and you swat his phone playfully “you’re the worst. i was just trying to get a bit of rest”, you tell.

“fine, i’ll make it up to you,” you say after a few seconds, your eyes sparkling with an idea as you looked at him.

vernon raised an eyebrow as he glanced at you. “how?”

without missing a beat, you lean in and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. for a moment, vernon’s entire body went still. his eyes widened in surprise, and he gulped down his nerves, trying to process what had just happened.

“what was that?” he finally managed to stammer.

you pulled back slightly, your heart racing as you tried to maintain a casual demeanor. vernon’s cheeks turn into a soft shade of pink, and he blinks, clearly caught off guard.

“oh, um, thanks,” he says, his voice coming out in a hesitant mumble, trying to steady his racing heart. “i wasn’t expecting that.”

you bury your face in your hands, trying to hide the growing blush, though you couldn’t suppress the playful grin tugging at your lips. from behind your fingers, you peek through the gaps to look at vernon, who now had an almost straight, serious expression, though his eyes held a soft gaze as he looked at you.

“do you want another kiss?”, you ask and he looks at you, surprised, his resolve faltering.

“if you want to”, he says before he glances around the library, peeking over the shelves to make sure no one was watching. “i just don’t want people thinking we’re up to scandalous things in the library,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“we are not doing anything scandalous over here,” you say, giving his arm a playful smack. “you’ve clearly never read any romance novels, have you?”, you ask as you look at him. “this is like the least scandalous thing we could be doing in the library right now, i’ve read worse, trust me”, you say, while vernon just looks at you with a fond gaze.

“alright, if you say so”, he says. he leans in slightly, his eyes searching yours as he looks at you.

you smile softly, getting nervous. the moment felt suspended in time, and his hand found its way to your cheek, his touch both tender and reassuring. he hesitated just for a heartbeat, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, before finally leaning in. the kiss was soft and tentative at first. his lips were warm against yours, and you could feel the faintest hint of a smile as he deepened the kiss just slightly, moving his lips against yours. you kissed him back, your fingers curling around his arm as you pressed closer.

when you finally parted, you both linger in the space between, and the quiet of the library seemed to embrace you both. vernon’s eyes meet yours, his expression a mix of adoration and amusement. “see? not scandalous at all,” he whispered with a playful tone.

you laughed softly, the sound mingling with the ambient silence of the library. “definitely not scandalous,” you say, agreeing, your voice equally soft as you hold vernon’s gaze, warmth blooming in your cheeks.

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@itsveronicaxxx @ihrtboo @frankenstein852 @lvlystars @mirxzii @aaniag

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seiwas · 4 months

Text

₊˚⊹｡ big gym energy (is this my fantasy?) | fushiguro toji

wc: 2.0k

summary: who would have thought the rippest DILF in all of Japan would get you to go to the gym everyday?

contains: gn!reader, non-curse au, college au, appearance of itafushikugi (mostly nobara), reader has a huge and lowkey delusional crush on toji, age gap

a/n: the gym toji fic! tone in this is a bit different from what i write, and it's lowkey a crack fic but i hope it's still enjoyable! listened to: big energy - latto & area codes - kaliii

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: going to the gym for yourself (and totally not for that cute guy who sometimes says hi)

“You’re going to the gym?” Nobara halts smack in the middle of the busy hallway. Groans huff behind her, the rest of your class filing out of the lecture hall. You bow your head apologetically as you pull her to the side.

“Yes.”

She squints, skeptical, “You.”

You nod.

“The gym.” she says it slower this time, tilting her head down.

You nod again.

Nobara blinks, shifting her weight as she reaches one hand inside the pocket of her overalls. There’s a long pause, rushed footsteps amplifying the suspense, then—

“Okay, what’s the bet? How much did Maki put out? I want in.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you loop your arm around hers and continue walking.

There’s good reason for her to doubt you; she knows you best after all. In your little quad, you are the least likely to be found doing any physical activity or sport whatsoever—and that’s saying a lot, considering the other fourth of your group is Megumi. But at least he walks his dogs regularly.

“Rude,” you scoff jokingly, “there’s no bet, just testing it out because they have a free trial promo.”

It shouldn’t hurt to check it out, you think. One of your resolutions this year is to finally get started on your fitness journey, whatever form it may be.

“You should come.”

Nobara snorts, “Wrong person,” you both turn at a corner, “ask Itadori.”

The gym is just a few blocks away from your campus, a good 18-minute walk if you’re counting—which is also part of what makes it so appealing. The ad you’d seen for the free trial is an early bird promo to attract new customers for the gym’s new branch launch.

And it does make the most sense to ask him; he is the sports science major after all—

“No way,” you step out on the sidewalk, “telling him is practically committing to a membership.”

—but Yuuji is a bit too eager when it comes to things like this. No doubt he’ll be at your heel, wagging his figurative golden retriever tail at the prospect of being your certified gym buddy. It’s endearing and you know he means well, but that’s way too much pressure for someone who’s just starting out.

She laughs, readjusting her bag, “He’d know how to use the machines though.”

“I watched some videos…” you mumble, because Nobara has a point, but if you’re being honest, you feel just a teensy bit embarrassed at the idea of anyone else knowing about your attempts at fitness this early on, lest it fail in the end. “I can probably ask someone there…”

“Try the most jacked up person in the gym.”

You shove her jokingly, her laughter echoing down the road.

The first person you meet at the gym is the lady at the front desk. Her ponytail sways as she greets you, a chirpy smile welcoming you in as she holds an iPad to her chest while touring you around—at the center, the main floor plan is decked out with machines; towards the back sit the squat racks, and to your sides are the private cycling rooms and multifunctional spaces. According to her, they also offer yoga classes every 6:00 p.m. on Wednesdays.

You’d expected a lot more people to be in here at 7:00 p.m., but you suppose it makes sense others would prefer to spend their Friday nights elsewhere.

Looking around, you spot a middle-aged lady you swear is Megumi’s English professor; on the treadmills, a couple your age share a laugh as they try to match pace. There are some machines you’ve never even seen in your life, Youtube videos included.

You take a deep breath. You can ask for help.

After all, the crowd feels friendly enough, not too intimidating—

—until your eyes land on him, on the benches; an absolute tank of a man doing chest presses with what you think are probably the heaviest dumbbells on the rack.

You try not to stare, catching only a glimpse of the way his biceps flex against the tight sleeves of his black compression shirt.

Don’t be a creep, you tell yourself, walking towards the leg press machine. You may be new here, but you’ve learned that gym etiquette isn’t so far off from acting like a civilized human being.

Thank god you never take Nobara seriously, because you can’t even imagine the stuttering mess you’d be if you had to ask him how to work any of these god forsaken machines.

It’s a good thing, then, that help comes to you without you having to say a word.

This is number four out of five sessions in your free trial promo, and you have no idea how to get the goddamn plates out of the barbell. You pull some out from the other side and the whole barbell comes along with it. When you attempt the other side, it does the same. Then when you finally do manage to get off the plates on one side, the whole barbell drops, clanging loudly against the metal foot of the squat rack set-up.

(Now that you think about it, maybe it isn’t such a good thing that you’ve been offered help instead of you asking. There must be a reason someone thinks you could need it.)

Someone, who is also the last person you could ever possibly want to embarrass yourself in front of.

Someone, who just so happens to be the jacked up tank of a man you’ve admittedly glanced at a few times in your past few visits here.

“To make it easier,” he crouches beside you, laying down a smaller plate and rolling the larger ones on the barbell over it.

He unloads them like they weigh nothing—and with his physique, it isn’t hard to believe that they probably do. His biceps look to be the size of your head, chest popping out in ways you’ve only seen on those Tiktok thirst edits; his one hand is larger than a 2.5 kilogram plate, and his forearms look like they could ch—

Mind out of the gutter, you blink away, focusing instead on the metal bar in front of you.

God, you don’t even know this man’s name.

“T-thanks.” you stutter, embarrassed.

He gives you a half-smile, lips turned on one side, “Sure.” then he walks away, the tightness of his black compression shirt hugging the ridges of his back muscles.

You gulp.

So begins your year-long gym membership.

(And maybe, just maybe, the kind-of-meet-cute of a lifetime. Who knows, really?)

“Who would have thought the rippest DILF in all of Japan would get you to go to the gym everyday,” she snorts, fingers grazing over the curved edges of the heart-shaped watermelons in the fruit aisle.

You hush her, scanning the area around you for anyone who might have overhead.

It’s 11:00 p.m. on a Thursday, so you doubt it, but you can never be too sure.

“He’s nice, you know.” you pout.

“Yeah, what’s his name?” Nobara gives you a look.

You glare, touché.

Maybe you don’t know his name. Yet.

But he’s always offered to stack on the heavy plates for you, and will oftentimes help in unloading them too. There are times when you aren’t quite sure how to work the machines and he swoops in like the gym buff version of prince charming, teaching you proper form just so you don’t get injured. He’ll wipe down a mat for you to use some days, because—

“Stretching is important,” he never fails to mention.

He’s nice.

And you have an insanely delusional crush on him, but you don’t care, because why else would he be giving you this much attention if he wasn’t interested in you too?

You find out many things about your gym crush, most of them completely unexpected.

One: his hair is unusually soft for someone who looks so rough. Or, well, you think it looks soft, you can’t tell for sure; you haven’t actually touched it to be able to tell. The black mop on his head falls flat over his eyes on the few days you assume are right before his next scheduled haircut. It surprises you even more when he walks in the gym with a small hair tie holding his bangs up.

Two: he does a considerable amount of bodyweight exercises for someone his size—Calisthenics, specifically.

You watch him pull himself up the bar, biceps and back straining against the movement. The muscles ripple across the fabric of his tee, and it’s impressive how smoothly he’s able to go up and down; as if he isn’t exerting any effort at all. Then, the push-ups and dips. He can do them all, in every variation you never even thought existed, and it’s always done with so much ease.

It gives you reason to believe that he could be gentle, controlled. In what? Well. You know.

Three: he likes fruity things. You expected his go-to to be straight black, maybe a chocolate protein shake on other days too. But he shows up one day with a smoothie in the shade of vibrant magenta. Dragonfruit, you assume, from all the black specks floating in it.

This also happens to be the first time you initiate the conversation with him.

“Your smoothie looks good,” you mumble, a little hesitant.

God, so awkward.

He looks up from adjusting the plate stoppers on your bar.

A hum rumbles from his throat before he flashes you the same half-smile he always does, “Strawberry, banana, and dragonfruit.”

You don’t really know what to say after that other than, “Cool.”

And you mentally facepalm yourself.

In your fourth month at the gym, you learn a few more unexpected things that change everything.

You’ve just finished freshening up and you’re on the way out when you bump into—

“Megumi?”

He looks up from his phone, dark strands hitting the tips of his eyelashes as he pushes back one side of his headphones. He raises an eyebrow, confused and surprised.

“You gym?”

“What’re you doing here?”

Pink dusts his cheeks as he ducks his head, motioning for you to go first.

“Sorry,” you chuckle, adjusting the strap of your duffel bag, “I started going here a few months ago. You?”

He looks a little surprised by it, probably more so at the fact that you’ve kept it a secret from him for so long, but he nods, “That’s good. You did mention wanting to work on your fitness more this year.” then, he shifts, adjusting his weight before hanging his headphones by his neck.

“I’m waiting for my dad.”

In the past few years you’ve known Megumi, he’s never mentioned his dad. You never bothered to ask because you suspected there was a good reason he never talked about him in the first place.

And so comes number four, and maybe the last unexpected thing you find out about your gym crush—

“Megumi!”

You both turn around to the voice of none other than Nobara’s proclaimed rippest DILF in Japan; the most jacked up tank of a man who also happens to be the man you’ve crushed hard on for the past four months.

Everything is snapping into place, information forming bridges you would rather not cross right now.

He walks up to Megumi, duffel bag slung across his chest as he reaches for your friend.

Megumi looks like he wants to wither away, embarrassed at you seeing him tucked under his dad’s arm. But all your brain can really comprehend is that Megumi, your good friend, is currently squished between the bicep and chest you’ve been staring at since your first day at the gym.

You hold your breath, the realization creeping to the forefront of your mind. There had been signs that your gym crush was a dad; apart from being built like one, he’d offhandedly mention ‘son’ a few times. You didn’t think it would be—

“Oh, you two know each other?” your gym crush tilts his head, turning to you, “you didn’t tell me your friend signed up for this gym, Megumi.”

“I didn’t know,” Megumi grumbles, and the look on his face can rival yours, for sure. Tough competition on ‘who looks like they want to die the most right now?’.

But he can’t win.

Because when Megumi begrudgingly introduces your gym crush to you as his dad, you’re pretty sure you’ve buried yourself twelve feet underground.

(It doesn’t ease the embarrassment when you learn unexpected thing number five: he’s been a trainer at the gym this entire time.)

thank you notes: to @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for encouraging me all the way!! ily ari

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #fushiguro itadori x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji x yn #toji fluff #toji x y/n #toji x you #fushiguro toji x you #toji fushiguro x you #jjk #toji #shotorus.writes #shotorus.events #in's and out's event

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elssero · 1 month

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having thoughts about stoner sero x secret stoner reader

h.sero

♰ slightly suggestive, lots of talk about weed. i wrote this while stoned :3 i love weed and seros my favourite so that means he loves weed too!!

your smoking a blunt on your dorm balcony the first time your caught. you hear movements to your right and your head snaps towards the noise- it’s sero, out on his balcony sniffing around like a fucking idiot. he turns around and his eyes lock directly with yous, blunt in your mouth as you take a long draw. his mouth forms a small circle as he watches you inhale and exhale- perfectly, making it incredibly clear to sero that this is definitely not your first time smoking. not even close.

he watches you closely for a second- brows furrowing as if trying to crack some kind of code. you’ve never spoken to sero before, at least not properly, it’s not that you don’t get along with the boy- not at all. he just always seems to be surrounded by a crowd in which you opt out of being around.

you don’t have an actual problem with his friends- you can tell their great people, you just prefer the company of your own- quieter friends.

despite only being around half way through the smoke you decide your done, not quite ready to let him watch u finish the blunt, you let it go and float it quickly over to sero, he’s only a single dorm to your right so it’s a pretty easy job, just incase- you float your lighter over with it and you were right to do so, the blunts no longer lit when it reaches him, he grabs the smoke quickly, as well as your light that follows and presses on the gas, you watch as the glow from the light shines on his face- highlighting his features. he holds the lighter up to you and you take this as a sign of him being done with it, pulling it back over to you.

you don’t stay out on your balcony for long after that, instead opting to make your way back inside- leaving a very confused and red faced sero outside.

you don’t talk about that night- at least not for awhile. instead he begins smiling at you in class, giving you a little wave as he walks into the class and walks straight towards his friends. you keep silent- liking it better that way in the mornings as you don’t quite have the energy to converse with people so early.

you should probably be stressing that sero knows about your little habit but your not. if anything he was probably the best person in the class to know- seeing as he’s very open about his own interest in substances.

you know he won’t judge you- you doubt anyone in the class really would, that doesn’t stop you from wanting to keep it your little secret though- you just hope sero wont open his mouth.

the cycle continues- every few nights you head outside, smoke half a blunt before floating it over too sero for him to finish- it’s stupid. you two haven’t really ever had a full conversation in your years at UA but still, you find yourself looking toward to your late nights.

your in bed tonight. completely out of weed for the week before you can find time to pick some up at the weekend, your new relationship with sero causing a serious dent how long your stuff would normally last you.

struggling to sleep you take out your phone, you make a plan to open up instagram before a message catches your attention.

sero: come outside.

it’s the first time he’s ever messaged you. he must’ve gotten your number from the class chat you’d been added too last year by uraraka. you don’t hesitate getting up, not even bothering to change out of your arguably showy nightwear. you feel it when the cold hair hits your exposed thighs and you immediately wish you had at least such a proper pair of pants on.

he’s already outside when you step out, stood lazily leaning against the barristers of his balcony- he looks at you, eyes trailing your body and you watch as they widen slightly when he reaches your lower half.

he brings his eyes back up to meet yours and he beckons you over. your confused for a second. you don’t have a blunt to give him? until he mouths back no you. he’s pointing at you before again gesturing behind him. get over here.

you don’t argue- too sleepy to fully argue the pros and cons as your now floating over to his dorm balcony- at night- alone.

your face to face with him when you get a look at what he’s holding in his other hand- a blunt. he doesn’t say anything as he gives it to you, placing it between your lips and he holds lighter up to light it- you inhale.

you ignore the fact that the situation you’ve found yourself in is extremely inappropriate- you can’t even begin to imagine the trouble you would be in if your caught- blunt in your mouth and with a boy alone at night.

he begins to speak to you- the first real conversation you’ve ever had with the black haired boy.

“can’t believe i didn’t know you smoked” he’s smiling- you can’t quite tell if the tone of his voice is that of surprise or teasing.

“you never asked.” it’s a short reply, much like the ones you usually give your classmates. it’s not like you don’t enjoy their company, you just enjoy the quiet more.

“you never really gave me the chance.” you decide not to respond. instead opting to take another long draw of his weed before taking it from your mouth and handing it back to him.

you thank him politely, placing a hand on the banister as you prepare to levitate yourself back to your dorm.

“you should smoke with us sometime!” it’s rushed- you can tell by the increased volume of his voice when he speaks now. you don’t really understand why? you’ve never really been close before but the offer of free weed is one you might need to take him up on.

“i’ll think about it.” you give him a small smile as you depart from his balcony. only turning back to look at him for a second before you open your own dorm door. he hasn’t moved an inch from where you left him and you decide you think he’s kinda cute like that. all frozen up and a little flustered.

you close your dorm room behind you meaning you don’t see the little cheer he does when he’s sure your finally gone. bumping his fist in victory as he finishes his smoke.

he’s finally found a way to wriggle into your life and he couldn’t be more excited.

#bnha #mha #fanfiction #bnha sero #fanfic #mha fanfiction #mha sero #mha x female reader #mha x reader #sero thoughts #sero x reader #sero hanta #sero x you #hanta sero x reader #bnha hanta

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httpscomexe · 2 months

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Forbidden Secret Desire

Summary: You just can’t seem to find yourself in this stupid school for freaks, but just when you’re sure no one cares anymore, a man with adamantium claws disturbs your groaning with a promise. Except he forgot to mention everything good comes with a price.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) Anxiety, hints to violence, loneliness, I guess angst, manipulation (The reader is helpless and will look for anything to make her happy), some hints towards suggestive material near the end, bad language word use, pet names.

Word Count: 3523 (Find all chapters here) Chapter 2

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

Xavier's Mansion.

Also known as the school for “Gifted Youngsters,” or simply for what society prefers to call, “Freaks.”

You’d been there for a few months. You have a very unique power, something even Xavier himself doesn’t understand how to control.

You get these looks all the time when you're walking in the halls of the mansion. You notice it when people cover their mouths to whisper about you and you can’t not notice it when you seem to create a bubble around you as some of the kids try to keep a distance.

Yea, it hurts. You couldn’t deny that either. Sometimes you’d even have to find a restroom really fast to cry to yourself in one of the stalls, but even that hurts when some of the students quickly flood out of the restroom after you enter.

Nobody knew how much it hurt you, nobody even knew what powers you really had. If they did, you would’ve already been sent to the ice box, but luckily, you didn’t know how to use your more dangerous powers. You figured Xavier probably knew about them, considering he can read your mind and he knows just exactly how powerful you really were, but he didn’t know if you knew about them. And what you don’t know, can’t hurt you.

The hardest part was going to class. While everyone else had a table of four people, you sat alone. You did every project alone, with high soaring grades by the way, and you never got to speak to anyone during discussion or free time before the bell rang.

Sometimes you wish you were just… normal.

Of course, you weren’t the only person that was avoided. There were a few other students and even some of the adults that were always avoided. The only true friend you seemed to have was Hank McCoy. Everyone used to fear him, thinking that he couldn’t control the “Beast,” so he knows how you feel. But sometimes it only felt like he tolerated you because you were smart, and you were the only student that could aid him in building anything related to tech, and nanotech, and coding, and all that good stuff.

“Have you figured out why it isn’t working?” Was the first thing he asked you as you walked into his lab. Not a good morning, no how’s class, and not even hello. “I was thinking it had something to do with our maths, that maybe we calculated something wrong but I’ve looked over it again and again and couldn’t find a single thing wrong with it.” He tells you, picking up his notebook which you could see was now full of mathematical equations and random scribbles which seemed to radiate with frustration.

“I don’t think we got the maths wrong, I’ve checked it about a thousand times.” You say quietly, then gently put your bag full of books down under one of his desks so it wasn’t in the way. “Pretty sure it just needs to be smaller. Nothing really about maths though. Other than that, the fibres need to be smaller.”

“So it is the maths?”

“Eh, kind of.” You groan a little and stretch before grabbing a small, delicate pair of tweezers. “This is still too big.” You tell him, placing a sample of part of your tech down under a microscope, strong enough you’re surprised it couldn’t see atoms. “See, this is about as thick as a piece of hair, which is about the size of…” You sigh, looking back at your maths. “It’s about 50,000 nanoparticles, so not a lot, but we need it to be a little smaller.” You tell him, then look away from the small bit of tech to look up at him, his eyes squinted in your direction as is he was trying to understand what you were saying. “Okay I’ll dumb it down. It’s about as thick as a piece of hair right now, we need to numb it down to about… only one hundred nanoparticles, so it should be about as thick as graphene.”

“What’re you two nerds going on about now?” Another voice cuts into your explanation. It was none other than the gruffy voice of Wolverine.

“Oh hey, Logan.” Hank abandons the workstation to go over Logan who was making himself some coffee. “Just figuring out something about nano…”

“Nanoparticles.” You finish his sentence.

“Yea, that.” He says plainly, not bothering to look at you as you turn away from their conversation and look through the microscope.

“Now how do I make you that small…” You whisper to yourself, gently lifting the particle string with your delicate tweezers and examining it through the microscope. “Hmm…” You hum to yourself.

“Y/N!” Hank calls for you, and you turn around. “I’m going out to pick up some lunch for the both of us. What would you like? I’m getting Mexican.” You tell him what you would like, and he takes a moment to clean his work area and stuff his wallet in his pocket before he finally leaves. Leaving you to stand by your desk, doing all the work that has to do with nanotech, but also leaving the Wolverine with you.

“So what exactly are you two working on?” You hear his voice behind you, then you see him next to you.

“Teleportation. Not as complicated as you think, it’s just the fear that gets to everyone really.” You look away from your work, and your eyes land on him. His arms crossed as he leaned on a nearby table, showing enough respect to not sit on your working table.

“Seems complicated. What could possibly be scary about it though? It's just teleportation.”

“Well. If you think deeper into it. Your body and every single atom and particle of your body has to be completely broken down into an uncountable amount of smaller pieces and then your body has to rebuild itself in the secondary location, you just have to hope that it rebuilds you correctly. Or the next thing you know half your right arm is also half of your left leg with toes for fingers.” You say without taking a breath, taking a deep breath after letting it all out. Staring back up at him, his eyes were now squinted in confusion.

“I don’t think anyone is scared of that except you. I’ve never even thought about that.” He shrugs, taking a sip of his scalding hot black coffee.

“Yea well… I’ve had a lot of time to think about a lot of things.” You tell him through gritted teeth, mumbling before grabbing your notebook.

“You know…” He pauses, placing his hot coffee mug on another table away from your work before walking back up next to you, placing his palms on your table where there wasn’t electronic junk lying around. “You aren’t the only one.”

“The only one?” You question, turning and grabbing another tool before looking under your microscope, turning the string around to try and figure out how to break it into a smaller piece, without actually breaking it.

“The only one that’s feared.”

You stop what you’re doing, still looking into the microscope but not actually paying attention to what was right in front of your eyes.

“I’ve seen the way some of the other kids look at you, bub. Like there’s something wrong with you. I know how it feels to not fit in.” He crosses his arms as he leans against your table, attempting to get your full attention. He clears his throat before speaking again. “I’ve seen you in the halls. Your name is Y/N, right?” You nod, his eyes and yours locked onto each other. “Logan.” He says, reaching his hand out to shake yours. Your hand basically gets engulfed by his as your soft hand meets his, which were rough and still yet soft, that surprised you, considering… “Hank talks about you a lot also. Not like he loves you or anything, he just tells me you’re smart. Like really smart.” He shrugs.

“Hm…” You hum a little. This is the first conversation you’ve had with someone in this school where they’ve actually treated you like a real human.

“Considering the way you explain this stuff, I’d say he’s probably right about you being smart.” He nodded towards the nanoparticles still sitting under your microscope, it was hard to see from even a foot away considering it was the width of a single piece of hair. “So what exactly is a nanoparticle? Or nano…”

“Nanoparticle" is correct. It just like a piece of tech or anything made of tech like certain fibers that can be visible to the naked eye but they’re very small. Just this one piece is the width of 50,000 nanoparticles.” You carefully pick up the string, and gently put it in it’s container.

“And what was that other thing you mentioned earlier?”

“Graphene?”

“Yea.”

“It’s made of about 50 to 100 nanoparticles, and it can be seen with the naked eye through a refraction of light in a mirror or clear substance that has a bend in it.”

“I’m not completely sure what any of that means. But I trust you know what you’re doing.”

“Yea, I’m kind of a nerd.” You chuckle awkwardly, then reach down to pull your bag over your shoulder, your social battery is pretty much near zero for the day, or maybe week. This was you first time ever speaking to Wolverine and you just nerd out on him? What were you thinking?

“Alright, I got food. Where are you heading?” Hank finally comes back, a bag full of boxes with the three of your foods in them in his right hand as he enters the lab, letting the metal door close behind him.

“I’ve got a bit of a headache, I was gonna go back to my room.”

“Well you know the rules. No food in the rooms.”

“Yea, yea. I know.” You sigh, setting your bag back down as he hands you your box of food and you hop onto one of the clean counters to sit down as you eat your food.

“Have you seen Xavier today?” He asks Logan, handing him his food also.

“No, he’s out on some special mission with Mystique right now, won’t be back for about another week.”

“And what does he have you doing? You never leave your room so I’m assuming he's’ got you doing something?” Hank stands next to Logan as they both talk back and forth.

“He has me teaching his third class and fifth class. I guess that one is the anger management class and the other is meditation.”

“Ah, so he’s got you teaching the two classes you used to fail in.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

After working in the lab, a lot shorter than usual, you actually head back to your room. You hate to admit it, but you’ve been ecstatic to meet Wolverine for years, and when you finally get to have a conversation with him, you just geek out on him about nanotech?

As you hang your bag on the wall and remove your jacket only to throw it on the back of your desk chair, you can’t help but want to just smash your head on a wall until you’ve forgotten about everything that’s happened today.

You mope as you walk into the centre of your small room, stopping and staring at the mess on your desk, a bunch of full notebooks covered in little pen markings of maths and science that no one else in the school would understand.

You walk to the desk, take one of the notebooks in your hand that had some free space left, and drop down on your bed. Reaching behind your head, you pull your sweater over your head and discard it on the floor before leaning against your headboard and clicking the back of your pencil until the led is at your desired length.

As soon as the tip of the led touches the paper, your mind wanders. That was so embarrassing… You realise, scribbling random maths into your notebook. I can’t believe I just made a professor hate me too… Not only had you dissociated, but you also completely nerded out. You talked about nanoparticles as if it was the only thing you cared about. You care about more though. You care about the family that was so scared of you they sent you off to this stupid school, calling you a freak and breaking all ties with you. No, you don’t care about them. But you care about your friends so much! You don’t have any friends. Hank is very special to you, he holds a space in your heart. A very, very small space. Yea he doesn’t care about you, you’ve just been able to make about a thousand breaks in his experiments. Then of course he would take all of the credit when he would show it to Professor X.

Why do you even try? I guess working with Hank is the equivalent of the other students going out to the mall with their friends. The only difference is he wasn’t your friend.

You take it back, you had one friend. If you could even call someone you only text cause you’re too scared for actual confrontation, a friend. Nightcrawler- or Kurt. The one guy who’s ever made an actual effort to try and be your friend, he’s just always out on missions. Or so that’s what his actual friends tell you. Maybe you should send him a text and actually verify whether he hates you or not… You get up from your bed and unzip your bag, sticking your hand into the pocket where you always shove your phone, but it’s not there. What the fuck? You take your bag off it’s hook and search the rest of the pockets, and still no phone. You go to your bed, searching under the covers and getting on your knees to check under the bed, still no phone. You check your desk, your discarded sweater, and you sweep the floor with your eyes looking for it, thinking it might’ve just fallen out of your pocket. You hate seeming desperate for a simple device that rots your brain to default, but God that phone is your escape.

“Hey, is everything alright-?” A voice cuts into your messy search as you turn around and your door is cracked just enough for him to stick his head in.

“Sorry, Mr. Howlett, I just can’t find my phone.” You chuckle awkwardly, standing in the centre of your room as he peeks around your room at the mess you’ve created.

“Again, you can call me Logan. I don’t mind it, I prefer it actually. Do you mind if I step in?”

“Yea, it’s fine. Sorry for the mess, I haven’t really had time to clean it.” You nervously link your fingers together in front of you and let your thumb pick at your skin as he comes in, closing the door gently behind him.

“It’s not a mess, just a sweater on the floor and notebooks on the bed.” Sweater on the floor. Of course. Yea, you were standing in the centre of your room, in your shorts and a black fucking clasp on bra. Now you suddenly feel naked standing in front of him, so you cross your arms, hoping to hide at least some of the embarrassment.

“Well uh, what’s up?” You try sounding cool but immediately cringe.

“You left this in the lab.” He tells you, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out your phone, handing it to you backside up, so you could see the glittery phone case, adorned with pink sparkles. “Was gonna give it to you in class but you kids go crazy over your phones.”

“Oh I wouldn’t go crazy…” You tell him, humour in your voice as you awkwardly look around your room, the sheets halfway off the bed and your pillows tossed in the middle, the result in the crazy search for your phone. “Would just be a little annoyed…”

“So is everything okay?”

“Yea, why do you ask?”

“I was knocking on your door and sayin’ your name. but you didn’t answer.”

“Oh,” You laugh dryly. “Sorry, sometimes I get lost in my head and kinda just block out all sounds and sometimes I’ll block out what’s in front of me."

“Oh I see.” What do I say to respond to that? “What were you working on?” Why is he still here?

“Honestly, I don’t know, I was just scribbling.”

“Had enough maths for the day?” He jokes.

“Had enough maths for the month.” You mumble, but then he laughs. A short laugh. But a laugh nonetheless. Isn’t he annoyed by you? Why is he still- “What would you be doin’ if Hank didn’t have you doing all this brain stuff?” Oh.

“Well uh, nothing probably.”

“Not one for hanging out with your friends?”

“Friends? Hah!” You laugh with sarcasm, then walk over to your discarded sweater, bending over to pick it up, deciding to distract yourself with cleaning. “It's not easy for a freak to make friends.” You mumble to yourself, hoping he wouldn’t hear, of course, he did.

“You’re not a freak.” He crosses his arms as you look over your shoulder at him.

“Yea sure. Everyone in the school would so easily disagree with you on that.” You say back, folding the sweater before tossing it into your dirty laundry basket. “Professor X won’t even let me leave the school because he doesn’t trust me. I’m sure you’re no different.” Shit that was supposed to be said in your head. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You’d smack yourself right now if it wouldn’t make you look stupid, if he wasn’t in your room still.

“So you think everyone’s the same?” He asks, more of a statement.

“No I- I don’t mean it like that. I just-” He clears his throat.

“Come here.” He demands, looking into your fucking soul. So of course, with a gaze as threatening as his. You stand right in front of him after you walk up to him like Bambi in a traffic headlight. Wobbly, and frozen. “Good, now look at me.” Oh, you forgot that part.

You looked away from his shirt, and tilted your head back to look up into his eyes and for a man who’s so adept at killing his eyes were so soft, and broken…

“If you didn’t randomly blank out, you would’ve also heard Xavier when he told you the only time you could leave, is if it’s with someone else in case there’s an emergency.”

“Emergency from what? Me losing my temper?”

“Exactly that.” Is what shuts you up. “When I said I know how you’re feeling, I meant it.” His voice softens, and you feel your throat knot as you hold back embarrassing tears. “It wasn’t easy for me to make friends either, but honestly I prefer to be in a small crowd. Normally I’m not the one to comfort a student, but you just don’t seem to want to talk to anyone. Why’s that?”

“I’ve tried talking to people. They just give me a look and then walk away.”

“Does that actually happen? Or is that just what it feels like?”

Shit. You hate to admit it, but he makes a point.

What the fuck. Was your next thought as his hand moved up and he gently placed his hand on your cheek.

“I know you hate everyone at this school from the fucking bottom of your heart, but I’m gonna have you try to refrain from hating me. We can strike a deal by letting me take you out of the mansion. I’m sure you’d love to get out, can’t remember the last time you left.”

“Never have.” You whisper, shrugging your shoulders. Your voice is only quiet so your tears aren’t cascading down your face.

“Well if you can just promise to behave, and tell me when you’re getting stressed, then I’ll supervise you like Xavier wants.” He tells you, promising some sort of freedom. “I’m not saying I’m scared of you. If anyone is scared of what you can do, it’s you. Am I right?” You nod. “Use your words, bub.”

“Yea…” Your voice cracks as you barely mutter an entire word.

“Hey, hey…” He says softly, then he suddenly pulls you into a hug. “I’ve got you.” He gently rubs your back, which by the way is still bare since you never got to throw on another shirt. “Just cancel your plans with Hank, I can help you more than he ever will…”

He promises. His fingers gently run over the metal clasps on the back of your bra as you loosely wrap your arms around him, embracing his hug and you nod, not able to formulate any more words as you cry quietly against his chest, your tears wetting his shirt as you both stand there in silence. A quiet smirk on his face as he holds onto you…

#marvel #marvel smut #smut #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #x reader #wolverine #logan #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #logan x reader

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paintingwhiteceilings · 7 months

Text

❃First Dates with Seventeen❃

I am back from the grave and come bearing delulu gifts. I should have been working on my thesis, but today was rough, so I decided to fantasise about romance instead. It is to make up for my non-existent love life; here is to being perpetually single!

Scoups/Seungcheol

❀ This man goes all out for the first date; nothing is too expensive for him as he wants you to feel like a queen at the end. Coups will rent out a theme park for the two of you within a heartbeat the moment you mention that you love roller coasters.

❀ That being said, he strikes me as someone who loves to combine luxury with pampering, doing something that is very relaxing and allows you two to focus on getting to know each other through deep conversations. Coups will probably take you to an expensive and exclusive restaurant, paying a little extra to sit in a more excluded area where no one can interrupt or overhear you.

❀ You two end up talking until the restaurant closes, barely paying attention to the Michelin-star meal that gets served. After you get kicked out, he will not want to let you go just yet, asking you to go on a walk to "digest the food."

❀ He definitely would be the type of member to invite you over to spend the night together, either to continue the conversation or to explore the relationship more physically. However, he would only take the next step if you make the first move or clearly verbalize to him that you want to. Of course, it is because Coups is respectful of your boundaries and it is absolutely not due to him being way too nervous to initiate anything himself.

Jeonghan

❀ Jeonghan strikes me as someone who would take you on a cosy date. Similarly to Coups, he would focus more so on conversation, preferring it over getting to know each other by doing an activity together. Still, as he doesn't want to come over as someone who only invites you over to his place to Netflix and Chill, he does put a lot of effort into the date.

❀ Jeonghan would probably create an indoor picnic, setting up a bunch of pillows and blankets for you two to comfortably lay on. The dress code: pyjamas; it is all about being super comfortable. It would remind you of the many sleepovers you used to have as a child, but more romantic. You two would play silly games, talk about everything and nothing, do some facemasks together and eat so much good food. It would be such a blast.

❀ He would not make a move on the first date; he already was quite bold by inviting you over to his place for the first date, and he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. Unless you decide to kiss him, he will keep a respectful distance from you the entire time. The most he would do is hold your hand to do some pseudo-palm reading he found online.

Joshua

❀Welcome to the best date of your life. Joshua is the best dater in the world, and nobody can convince me otherwise. This man would walk straight out of a fairy tale book with him in the starring role of Prince Charming. It would not be above him to hire a horse and carriage, snuggling up together as you ride through some magical fairy tale forest, with both of you dressed to the nines.

❀ Still, Joshua strikes me as someone who would plan a crafting date; he would either take you to a pottery class or take you to make some bracelets. Joshua would suggest that you both make something for the other. It is quite a smart move on his part; you would have to continuously ask the other questions to figure out their design preferences. Plus, at the end of the date, you both will have a keepsake to commemorate the time you spent together.

❀The only thing this gentleman is kissing is your hand as a greeting. There will be no handholding either; he will only accidentally touch your hand when he hands something over to you. You would have to go on at least five dates before he even considers kissing you. He is a good Christian boy (who fears the wrath of God).

Jun

❀ Jun is too socially awkward to have a date that is conversation focussed. He needs something to distract you from his rambling and the painful silences. Instead, to avoid running out of conversation topics, he decides to do something fun together, where he can be in his element. He is taking you to a petting zoo.

❀ Although things are painfully awkward at the beginning of the date, his shyness immediately vanishes when he spots all the rabbits and goats running around the petting zoo. He might (accidentally) forget you are there for a moment as he pets a sheep that keeps sniffing at his shoes. However, he will enthusiastically start introducing you to all his favourite animals upon remembering you are there, too. Turns out, this particular petting zoo is his regular spot.

❀ He would 1000% compare you to his favourite chicken.

❀ Will this man touch you during or at the end of the date? Absolutely not. He will ramble on and on about all the cute animals once he is comfortable, but if you do as much as graze his arm with yours, he will go back to painfully shy Jun, and you would have to place a guinea pig in his arms to get him talking again.

Hoshi/Soonyoung

❀ Although Hoshi becomes the most chaotic person alive once he is comfortable around someone, he would be painfully shy during a first date. He has to do something with you because he can't stand the awkward silences that he will inevitably let fall. Thus, to no one's surprise, he will take you to do something incredibly active. Hoshi spent so much time trying to come up with something unique, but in the end, he settled for something that made him feel comfortable, namely a one-on-one dancing lesson.

❀ It genuinely would be so much fun. At first, Hoshi is incredibly shy, barely touching you to correct your posture, blushing whenever meets your eyes. As time goes on, he slowly becomes more comfortable and daring, interacting with you and touching you more boldly. The dancing grounds him, reminding him that he's got this and that he is in his element.

❀ Still, Hoshi reverts to being shy when the music ends, now panicking over every single time he has had to put his hand on your waist to steady you. He wouldn't be able to make it through a single sentence without tripping over his words as he gets haunted by flashbacks of the times his bold, performing self touched you. So yeah, he is mortified by his actions.

❀ Needless to say, he wouldn't be kissing you goodnight.

Wonwoo:

❀ He would be another member mortified at the thought of having to keep a conversation going during a date. Wonwoo took his sweet time with an actual plan for a date; he didn't actually expect to get this far. Thus, he has been bothering Mingyu to help him out with date ideas that would not highlight his introversion. On Mingyu's advice, he decides to do something that he is good at and would enjoy. He takes you to a gaming cafe.

❀ Whether you are good at gaming or not, he makes sure that he has a list of fun multiplayer games for you two to play that aren’t too complicated. You have fun running a restaurant together in 'PlateUp!' before he convinces you to play 'It Takes Two' together, using the story to create a wholesome and romantic atmosphere. The best part is that the game is too long to finish in one playthrough, making it easier for him to ask you out on a second and third date. It gives you plenty to talk about, too; how can you not discuss the Cutie the Elephant scene?

❀ It would all go so well, all until he has walked you to your door. He gets so nervous about potentially kissing you goodnight that, instead, he shakes your hand, all businesslike, telling you it was a good one. It takes him a solid five seconds to realize what he is doing and for him to turn bright red. Luckily, you find it funny, agreeing it was a good one. He was ready to drop all contact with you and change his entire identity if you hadn't laughed.

Woozi

❀ It isn't that Woozi is incredibly nervous about your date; he is actually very much looking forward to it. However, he genuinely does not know what you two can do together, as he literally never leaves his house. The members aren't much help either; they either make fun of him for finally deciding to go outside or tell him to do some wild activity that he really can't imagine doing. They keep reminding him that he can't bring you to the gym or bring you along to the studio as he works. Apparently, that isn't romantic.

❀ It is Jeonghan who surprisingly helps him out by recommending doing a movie marathon or binge-watching a series together. Jeonghan even helps him decorate the living room with candles, making it all nice and romantic. Not that the atmosphere would be very romantic, though; you decided to put on a Marvel show, and now you are having a lore-heavy discussion trying to connect all the stories. You two even brought out a notebook so you could draw a mind map of the different plot points and storylines.

❀ Despite all the romantic lyrics that he writes, Woozi wouldn't know what to do when you tell him you have to go. He is overthinking everything as you get up to grab your coat and get ready to leave. Should he walk you home? Should he kiss you? As you are about to close the door behind you, he would muster up the courage to ask you what he should do. Woozi is very embarrassed about it, but he would rather risk looking stupid as he asks you how a date is supposed to end than end up doing the wrong thing.

❀ Well, answer wisely.

DK/Seokmin

❀ DK is way too excited to be going on a date with you. In fact, he has so many date ideas that he decided to do all of them at once, in one go. It might not be the best idea, but DK is not thinking clearly. He is too distracted by his enthusiasm, only thinking about how he gets to go on a date with you. You should be concerned when he asks you to bring multiple outfits; each outfit fits a different date activity.

❀ The date starts out fun as he brings you to the zoo. You spent some time laughing at the monkeys and taking pictures together at the animal cut-outs. However, after not even an hour has passed, DK is already dragging you to the next activity he has planned. In one date, you guys visit a waterpark, do a scavenger hunt, go bowling and go ice skating. It is honestly not surprising that when DK leans over to talk to you, he discovers that you have fallen asleep during the movie. He realises that maybe he asked a bit too much of you and guiltily lets you catch up on some sleep.

❀ DK is genuinely convinced that you never want to see him again, being incredibly quiet as he walks you home. When he voices as much, you surprise him by kissing his cheek and telling him you had fun, though you would prefer maybe not to do five activities during one date. He will not shut up about it during dance practice for weeks.

Mingyu

❀ A date with Mingyu really depends on who he is taking on a date and what he thinks would fit that person best. He is such a people person that he will come up with a date idea that is fun for the both of you. If he gets to decide, though, I can see him choosing between two widely different date ideas, depending on his mood.

❀ On the one hand, I can see Mingyu opting for something romantic. For instance, I can see him inviting someone over so that he can cook for them. He would have you seated across from where he is cooking, trying his hardest to impress you with his cooking skills. It would be such an intimate setting: just you two, sitting in the quiet kitchen as the evening grows darker, chatting as you sip your glass of wine. The food would be delicious, and the flirting unrivalled.

❀ On the other hand, Mingyu strikes me as someone who would also love to go on a lighthearted and fun date, focusing on having a good time together. There wouldn't be anything sensual about it; you two would be cracking up the entire time. For some reason, I can see him taking his date to play mini-golf. Not only would it be hilarious every time one of you launches the ball in the wrong direction, but it would also give him an excuse to touch you as he tries to 'help.'

❀ Mingyu would definitely end the date not so innocently if you give him the okay sign. And, let's be fair, chances are that you would; he is too fine not to and after all that flirting...

The8/Minghao

❀ Minghao would put a lot of thought into the date, even going as far as planning it before he asked you out. Minghao is painfully aware that you make him nervous and that he can't afford to slack on the date activity; at least when there is an awkward silence because he doesn't know what to say, you would have something pretty to look at. Thus, he makes sure to go over his plan at least five times, asking the other members for second opinions that he will ultimately disregard when he goes with his original idea.

❀ All in all, his first date ideas all have something creative and peaceful. He wants to create an atmosphere that is relaxing and fosters deep conversations. He, for instance, would opt to organize a painting date where he will show off his painting skills, taking you to a scenic nature look-out where you can spend your afternoon eating the food he prepared in a picnic basket, chatting as you try to capture the beautiful forest scene in front of you.

❀ Another first date that I can see him taking you on is stargazing. Minghao would prepare a ton of cosy blankets and pillows that soften the hard ground you otherwise would have had to lay on. Instead of pointing out existing constellations, you would try to come up with your own. It would be so serene with the silence only broken by your conversation, held in soft, quiet whispers. If the moment is right, he would lean in for a kiss, hiding the redness of his face in the dark of the night.

Seungkwan

❀ Seungkwan initially felt so much pressure to organize the best date ever. He has his reputation as 'one of the funniest members of Seventeen' to uphold and wants you to have an amazing time. Similarly to some of the other members, Seungkwan has several different first date ideas that he would choose from depending on his date and mood. Mostly, I can see him doing something very active as it would help him focus less on his nerves and more on being in the moment.

❀ Seungkwan would, for instance, take you on a hike, using it as an excuse to have deep conversations as you enjoy the beautiful, warm summer day. He loves to walk and talk, using the hike to grow closer. You two would bring along some food, stopping at picturesque scenes to enjoy lunch as you share your life stories.

❀ I can also imagine Seungkwan taking you to see a volleyball match or to play volleyball. He adores the sport and would probably want to share his love for the game with you. Despite being incredible at ball games, he would be incredibly gentle with you, making sure that you don't accidentally injure yourself. Plus, he gets to show off his incredible skills.

❀ He would be another member who is too shy to initiate anything physical. It would be on his mind constantly, but he wouldn't get past his overthinking thoughts. He will keep a healthy, respectful distance unless you decide to initiate skinship.

Vernon

❀ I can't, for the love of me, imagine Vernon on a serious date. This man's entire vocabulary consists of memes, and I am sure he will get inspired by some wacky internet post to do something weird. Instead of doing something romantic or typical date-like, he would go for something outside the box. Sure, he loves movies and could do a cliche movie date, but where is the fun in that?

❀ After watching a popular ghost-hunting video, he decides it would be a good idea to go on a ghost-hunting date together. He even bought specialized ghost-hunting tools so that you could communicate with the spirits. It is a bit of a waste of money; he probably will never use them again (unless you are not utterly horrified by the end of it and would want to go on another ghost-hunting date). Most people wouldn't consider an abandoned prison romantic (and neither did you), but at least it is a fun, never-been-done-before first date.

❀ You now made a new friend, a ghost called Dave, who apparently likes pizza, that the spirit box picked up on the second floor's hallway. Another ghost, who kept repeating the words 'toilet' and 'cereal', decided to briefly join your date when you walked into one of the cellblocks. Overall, you don't have conclusive proof that ghosts exist by the end of it, but the date went well.

❀ This man is oblivious to date etiquette; when you ask whether he wants to spend the night, he thinks you are asking him whether he wants to spend the night at the abandoned prison. You might be regretting that you asked as you now are terrified, trying to sleep in a sleeping bag next to a knocked-out Vernon on the cold prison floor.

Dino/Chan

❀ Poor Dino does not know what to do with your first date, paralysed from fear at the thought that he will do something stupid. He has been staring at a wall these past few days, racking his brain as he tries to come up with something to impress you. Part of him wants to ask his members for help, but Dino knows that if he did, they would never let him live it down.

❀ Inspiration, however, strikes him over dinner the day before you are supposed to be going on a date. Dino is running around like a headless chicken, trying to plan whatever he can in time for the big day. Unfortunately, it takes him hours to arrange everything, forcing him to stay up well into the early hours of the next day. Hence, when Dino decides to close his eyes for just a second, he completely sleeps through his alarms. If it hadn't been for his members waking him up, he would have also slept through your entire date.

❀ The good news is that the members texted you to let you know in advance, and that you are gracious enough to still agree to the date. The bad news is that Dino's hard work has been for nought as the reservations have long passed. He feels incredibly guilty, but you reassure him that things like these happen.

❀ Instead of letting the mishap ruin the date further, you convince him to join you at the local playground. You spend the entire afternoon running around, playing games from your childhood and going down the slide. Your dinner consists of some snacks from a convenience store. It is wonderful.

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serafilms · 4 months

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OH, WE MUST STOP MEETING LIKE THIS

patrick zweig x reader

summary: in which patrick zweig is the bolter (the bolter by taylor swift). wc: 3k

kind of an alternate timeline spinoff of the golden quartet

(rather than an au, it's more like an alternate patrick x reader centric timeline, and an exploration of their dynamic and how it intertwines with the bolter, because i listened to it again after watching challengers, and thought to myself, "wow, this song is so patrick coded.”)

You like Patrick Zweig because he makes you feel like he’s yours.

The sudden hand that claps onto your shoulder almost sends your soul into orbit as you jump in your seat, fork dropping to your tray. It is very soon forgotten.

“Patrick, oh my god!” Your arms are thrown around him, chair pushed to the side, and Patrick stumbles a little on the impact.

When you part, he’s grinning at you and you turn your head back to the table, where Art is munching on an apple with the corners of his mouth twitching up.

“Did you know he was here?” You ask him.

Art gives a shrug as he swallows. “He said he wanted to surprise you.”

You tug at Patrick’s arm to sit as you settle back into your chair.

He gives you an exaggeratedly sloppy kiss on your cheek and you cringe in disgust, butterflies in your stomach all the while. “Had to surprise my favourite girl.”

“Thought Art was your favourite girl,” you quip. The blond kicks your shoe in retaliation.

“You can both be,” Patrick announces as he grabs Art’s apple and takes a bite. “So,” he says through a mouthful, “It’s Friday. What are we doing tonight?”

“Well,” you say, “I have an essay due Sunday, so I’ll be doing that.”

Patrick gives you a look. “Boo, you whore.”

“Alright, pack it up, Regina George.” The words are accompanied by an affectionate roll of your eyes.

“A guy in my calculus class is throwing a party,” Art speaks up. He snatches his apple back out of Patrick’s hands.

You let out a humming noise. “You guys can come hang afterwards. I’ll probably still be awake by then.”

Patrick studies you for a moment, contemplatively, as if you are somehow a factor in making his decision. You wonder if perhaps he wanted you to ask him to stay with you instead. But he turns back to Art and nods his agreement as an easy smirk falls onto his face.

“Sounds like a plan.”

There’s a little more idle chitchat and three-way bickering while Patrick swipes half your meal from under your nose and indulges in it as though he was the one who paid for it. You let him, partially because you’re not hungry anymore and partially because you’re not sure what he’s been eating when he’s on tour, so any nutrients you can get inside his stomach is a win.

Art lists off some of the people going to the party, and you chime in with unsolicited opinions, pieces of gossip, etc., on each of them, until eventually, your tray is empty and it’s time for you to go to class.

“I’ll catch you guys later. Don’t get too shitfaced tonight.” You try to ignore the way Patrick grazes his hand on your hip as you stand.

“No promises,” he snickers. He and Art share a look over the table.

It’s three in the morning when Patrick knocks on your door. He is decidedly shitfaced, but still not as bashed up as you thought he’d be. His hair is only slightly tousled, he doesn’t look like he’s about to fall over, and his clothes don’t even look like they’ve been haphazardly taken off and thrown back on.

Still, you gently tug him inside, hands reaching up to brush down his curls neatly.

“Come here,” you murmur. You don’t question why he came to your room instead of going back to Art’s. Nor do you question why he seems to have gone mute.

You begin helping him take his jacket off, then as he sits on your bed, his shoes. Despite being fully capable of doing so himself, he lets you take care of him. He doesn’t even stop to smirk or make a comment about the compromising position of you kneeling in front of him. Instead, he stares. Or it looks like staring. In Patrick terms, you decide that the more accurate verb is ‘gazes.’

After you’ve forced a glass of water down his throat and put his things in a pile to the side, Patrick has half tucked himself under your covers and is gazing at you – expectant, pensive.

The bed dips as you lay beside him, turning onto your side to face him. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

Patrick’s hand darts out to cup your face. His eyes are half lidded, looking straight into yours. It’s a serious expression, one you so rarely see on his features. He almost looks like a different person.

His fingertips brush the side of your neck making their way down to your shoulder, your bicep then your ribcage, right near the curve of your waist. You hear his breathing deepen as your own does the same.

“I really like you, you know.”

Your breath hitches. You feel as though your lungs, heart and diaphragm have all be frozen in time.

The words shouldn’t warrant such a reaction. They shouldn’t have such a palpable effect on you, but they do. You know Patrick likes you a lot. It’s a given with the way he acts around you, seeks you out and calls you so frequently. But it’s precisely because you know that and because you know him, that you know what he really means in this moment.

Your voice comes out in a hoarse kind of whisper. “I really like you too.”

A hint of his usual smirk crosses his face, and then the next thing you know, you’re thrown in a void, and the only things you’re aware of are the warmth of his hand on your side and the press of his lips on your own.

You love Patrick Zweig because he will always come back to you.

“Hey.” There’s a smirk on Patrick’s face as you step out of the bathroom. His eyes dart up and down your figure, from the shirt you clearly stole out of his bag while he was training with Art and Tashi to the exposed skin of your legs.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling as you move to situate yourself between his legs. His arms wrap around you as you settle into him. Chest to chest, heart to heart. You can feel the steady thump in his chest through your shirt. You take the time to drink in the sight of him. Every visit feels shorter than the last, and you sometimes worry his face will fade from your memory like a thawing lake in spring. “How was practice?”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Tashi keeps riding my ass about my focus during matches.”

“Come on, she just wants to help you.”

Patrick’s eyebrows raise as he gives you a squeeze. “I didn’t come visit so I could be coached.”

You smile at that. “Oh yeah? What’d you come back for then?”

A grin stretches over his face as he flips you both over, and you squeak a little on impact. “Why don’t I show you?”

Warmth blossoms in your chest as he starts kissing up your neck. “We watch your matches sometimes, you know. When I miss you. Art always sighs when you do your weird little serve. Tashi commentates most of it, though.”

You feel the stretch of his lips as he smiles slightly into your collarbone.

“She has some good points,” you say, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he bites down on your skin. “Maybe you should listen to her.”

He sighs, mumbling, “I don’t want to talk about tennis right now.”

“I know. I’m just saying – raw talent won’t always be enough.”

“I’ll deal with that when I start actually losing,” he replies in between kisses. He’s at your jaw now, lips still pressed to your skin with every word.

You hum at the vibrations on your skin, but a frown pulls at your lips. You aren’t Tashi or Art. It isn’t like you care all that much about tennis anymore, but the fact that Patrick seems to care even less worries you. His future is hanging by a thread, and it worries you most of all because you’re not even really sure if you fit in his future. You’re not sure if you’ll be there to sew it back up or standing in the distance watching it fray.

“You always do that,” you blurt.

He pulls away, looking at your eyes with a brow furrowed. “Do what?”

“Run away from your problems.”

“I don’t run away from my problems,” he says, pulling back slightly. You both know he’s lying.

“I’m sorry, I’m just worried.” You bite your lip. “You haven’t had a decent conversation with your parents in two years, and I feel like you’re not thinking about your future.”

Patrick shifts away from you, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you instead. His jaw has set as he looks at you. There’s a cold expression on his face and you want nothing more than to rewind the last 30 seconds and go back to how it was before. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek nervously.

“I don’t need you to worry about my future,” he says, voice low and steady.

Your own voice has a subtle shake in it, one that’s filled with regret. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Patrick looks at you for a moment longer, then swings his feet off the bed and heads straight for his things.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving,” he says quietly. He shoves his hoodie into the bag and zips it up.

Your heart clenches. “Wait, Patrick, please. I don’t want us to leave it like this.”

“I have to go. I’ll miss the last bus if I don’t.”

“You can catch it tomorrow! Your competition isn’t for another two days!” The desperation in your voice is audible. “Please. Please don’t leave.”

Patrick’s figure is still, like a photograph frozen in time. His bag rests on his shoulder. He’s two steps away from the door.

“Please stay.”

When he turns and looks at you, you can see the way his expression crumbles.

“Okay,” he mumbles.

You manage a few steps towards him, slow and hesitant. The bag slides off of his shoulder and he engulfs you into his arms. There’s a kiss pressed to your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into him.

His hair brushes against your cheek as he shakes his head. “No. No, I’m sorry.”

He holds you tight in his arms as you fall asleep. The next morning, you awake to an empty bed, and a sticky note on your desk that you won’t notice for another few days.

I’m sorry.

You don’t like Patrick Zweig because he makes you cave every time.

A year fresh out of college, and your career as a journalist is flourishing. Your boss flounces up to you at your desk.

“You used to play a bit of tennis, right?”

You blink. “Uh, yeah.” You were ranked, like, 7th in the world for junior tennis before your injury, but sure, that about sums it up too.

“I need you to write a piece on the competition happening soon. It won’t be too spotlighted, since we’re not really known for our sports new, but you’ll have full control over it, since you’re the only one who knows anything about tennis.”

“Okay, no problem.”

“Great! Here’s a list of the players.”

Your eyes skim over the list half-heartedly. There were occasionally names you recognised, including – ah, there was Art. You flipped through until the end, and your gaze locked in on the last name on the page. Your heart crept into your throat.

Patrick Zweig.

“Did you know he was here too?” You struggle your way up your stairs to the apartment, grocery bags in each hand and your phone balanced between your ear and shoulder.

Art’s voice sounds muffled from the other line, probably because your ear is more on the screen than the speaker, but even so, the awkward lilt in his voice is clear as day. “Yeah, uh, he texted me.”

You sigh. “You don’t have to pretend like you’re not still friends with him for my sake.”

He’s quiet for a moment. "I know. I just didn’t know how you’d feel about him being back in town."

“That’s what Tashi said too.”

“So how are you feeling about it?”

"Well," you huff as you reach near top of the stairs, "it’s not like I didn’t know he’d be at the tournament." Your eyes close for a moment, and the image of his name in font size 11 Arial appears in your mind’s eye. "I just didn’t want to think about it. I mean, it’s been ages since I’ve even spoken to him. It’s—"

"Complicated," Art finishes for you.

"Yeah." You fumble for your keys in your pocket, trying to manoeuvre the bags without dropping anything. "I’ll be fine, though. "

Art hums. You get the sense he’s thinking about something. Finally, he says, "For what it’s worth, he never wanted to hurt you, you know.”

You manage a small smile, even though he can’t see it. "I know. I’ll call you later, okay? I gotta put these groceries away."

"Sure. Take care, alright?"

"Yeah, you too." It’s a big struggle trying to get the keys out of your pocket. You barely manage to grab your phone in your other hand.

"Need some help with those?"

The sound of Patrick’s voice startles you, and you nearly drop the bags. He’s leaning against the wall next to your door with a smirk playing on his lips. Your first instinct is to hug him, then something switches and you want to punch him. With the bags in your hands, you can do neither, so you opt for staring at him as though you’ve just seen a ghost.

He still looks the same as you last saw him (not that you think about him often enough to picture that image, of course), except with an extra hint of adult despair. But still, the curls are the same, he’s still wearing shorts, he’s still clean-shaven, and his smirk is still stupid as ever. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was a figure of your imagination.

You gape at him for a moment before finding your voice. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

He straightens up, taking a few steps toward you. "Thought I’d surprise you."

"Well, mission accomplished," you mutter, pushing your key in the door and twisting it. Patrick follows you in, reaching to grasp at the bags in your hands. You don’t say anything as he carries them over to your counter, his eyes darting around to take in the sight of your apartment.

“Nice place. I like what you’ve done with the bookshelf,” he muses as he lifts the groceries onto the tabletop, then leans against it.

The way he moves is so familiar that it sends a jolt of déjà-vu through your stomach. A battle rages on in your mind as you struggle to figure out how to feel. On paper, you’re not necessarily on bad terms. It isn’t like you could say you had a bad breakup, since you aren’t even really sure you were dating in the first place, so you never really had any nights of crying over him, eating ice cream, and asking your friends to stop you from texting him. The two of you just stopped talking.

“Patrick. Why are you here?” Your voice cuts like a knife through the air. This is starting to feel like some sick joke from the universe. You wonder if Art knew Patrick was going to ambush you. Maybe he gave him your address.

He looks at you, his easy smile dropping for a moment. “I wanted to see you.”

You stay quiet. His expression is uncomfortably serious, and you can see him waiting for a response. But the truth is you don’t know what to say. You opt instead for moving towards the groceries beside him and putting them away. Patrick just watches you.

"So," he says, breaking the silence, "how’ve you been?"

"Busy," you reply, picking up a carton of milk to put in the refrigerator. "Work’s been hectic."

You see him nod from the corner of your eye. "I’ve heard. Your articles are really good."

You glance at him, surprised. "You read them?"

"Of course." His expression softens. "I always keep up with what you’re doing."

A lump forms in your throat, and you focus on moving around the jars in your fridge door aimlessly to avoid looking at him. "Thanks."

It’s silent once more as you finish putting everything away, though you can feel Patrick’s eyes in the back of your head the whole time.

His eyes meet yours when you finally turn back to face him, and for a moment, he looks vulnerable. He steps closer, reaching out to take your hand. "I missed you."

Your heart clenches. It becomes easier to decide then. You don’t like Patrick Zweig. Can’t stand him, really. You hate him. You hate that just his hand in yours and three little words can make your resolve crumble like a statue smashed to rubble.

Against the better judgement of every cell in your brain, you say, “I missed you too.”

It’s nothing to do with you. You know that. As he kisses you, as he slips his hands under your shirt, as he lies in bed with you, traces patterns on your skin and clings to you like a lifeline, you know. Patrick is yours, and you are his. But he’s always making promises he can’t keep, starting things he cannot finish, running away from everything to no end.

Perhaps one day, things will be different. But for now, you stare at the empty space in your bed, the only trace of his presence being the lingering scent of his cologne. You sigh, draw open the curtains and allow the morning sun to seep into your room.

You hate Patrick Zweig because he will never stay.

#patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #challengers #challengers x reader #challengers imagine #challengers imagines #josh o'connor #art donaldson #tashi duncan #written works !#art donaldson x reader

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wannabelife · 9 months

Text

fantasize – csc

pairing: seungcheol x fem reader

genre: smut

synopsis: your friend hurt his ankle in his dance class and needs you to help him to do the basic things. what you didn't know it's that you gonna need to give more than just a hand.

warnings: long ass built-up, i think that's the longest smut i've ever done, nursing student yn, sub cheol, dom service reader, cheol from the last live type of image, unproctect sex (be safe y'all!!! that's just fiction), oral m receiving, fingering, handjob, voyeurism, praise and use of the word slut

a/n: last one of the year!!! planning some things for 2024, and lmk if you have any requests :))) happy holidays guys and a beautiful new year to y'all <3

you were dozing off in front of your school books when your phone starts to ring, startling you. the number "never answer" popped up on your screen, and contrary to what it says, you click on the green button accepting the call.

"hello?"

"hello my bestest best friend"

"what do you need now, jeonghan?"

"my god, not even a 'how are you?' 'how's your day?' nothing?"

"go on, jeonghan, i do not have the patience"

all you can hear is his breathy laugh on the other side before he finally goes to the point. it seems harsh of you, but that's normal in your friendship, none of you minding this kind of treatment, knowing it's just how it is with you.

"okay... actually two things" you roll your eyes as he speaks, and thanks god he is not seeing you, because he would whine about that.

"cheolie got his ankle injured in the dance class yesterday, im taking care of him, but he keeps sighing in pain, and i dont know what to do"

"did the doctor not prescripted any painkillers?"

"i lost the recipe on the way back home from the hospital"

"well, that's seungcheol's fault for trusting you" you take a breath "ice and a generic painkiller won't be a problem if the pain aint going away"

"nice"

"and the other thing?" you ask.

"so, saturday..."

"no! no, i cant."

"let me finish it, at least!" you sigh and he goes on "saturday i have something to do during the day. dont you have like three or four hours of your day just to check on him... make sure he has something to eat, takes shower, his medicine and everything... the man can't even leave his bed"

"hmm alright. that's ok with me."

"why were you so reluctant to give in that easily?"

"oh come on, hannie... you know you. that's, by far, the easiest thing you've ever asked from me. its quite cute, actually."

"i told seungcheol to ask someone, but you know... he can be stubborn sometimes... he keeps saying he'll be ok by himself"

"what if he really wants to be alone... i wont go if he is not comfortable with it"

"he can't barely walk, yn. he needs some assistance"

"ok... just make sure he knows im going"

"i will. thank you so much, that's a huge help, really. you are the best!"

"i know"

saturday comes, and you decide to go to cheol's around 11pm. you will probably buy some takeout to make sure he eats. you've texted him a few times during the week to ask how's the recovering, and it seems its getting better. it feels like your help will just really need to be an assistance.

getting at his place, you disk the pass code on the front that jeonghan texted you beforehand. you slowly come in, letting your shoes by the door. you've been here a few times, but it's not like you are used to it.

"hello? cheol? im here" you exclaim in a way he can possibly hear wherever he is around the house, but no answer comes.

you let your things on the living room, walking carefully further down his place "seungcheol?" you say, looking around shyly.

you get near to his bedroom door that is closed. what gets your attention is the whinning coming from inside it. your eyes getting big with worry, remembering jeonghan saying how he does it when in pain.

another whine comes, a bit louder, with a groan after it "cheol? can you hear me? are you ok?" you get closer to the door, not wanting to open before he says you can. you are really worried, what if he's trying to get up alone, or even worse, if he fell down while trying it... another groan "seungcheol, can i come in? are you fine?" you try again and nothing.

you hear a gasp this time, and you just decide to go in, what if something happened? he is not answering. you open the door of his room lightly, a little squeaky leaving your month in surprise.

"yn!? fuck!" seungcheol exclaims when he catches your presence, but you close the door fast enough to cut his words. there aint no way you just saw seungcheol half naked on his bed, hand on his hard cock for your eyes to see, a vein popping up while he strokes his length. he wasn't reacting from pain, but quite the opposite.

you walk fast to the living room, not knowing what you should do, until you hear him from his room "yn, wait! wait, please!" he grunts, trying to get his body up from the bed, his pants already in place as he tries to stand up.

you hear the metal of his crutch clicking, and you run over to his door again "no, no, seungcheol, are you standing up? stay there!" your voice gets a bit higher from usual so he gets the point.

you are standing outside the closed door like a coward, your ears touching the wooden material of it, so you can hear whatever he's trying to say from inside.

"i wanna talk to you" he says "i can walk"

"no! stay there, im serious!" you exclaim again, worried that he might fall or hurt if he gets up. you hear a breathy laugh from the other side.

"are you going to stay outside or are you coming in to talk?" he says "if you dont, im getting up"

"are you dressed?" you ask and he scoffs, laughing a bit again.

"of course im dressed, yn. come in, please"

"well, you weren't before" you say it quietly for yourself before finally opening the door.

he is sitting on the edge of the bed, the crutch hanging on his side. he looks at you at his door, he cant help the look he gives you up and down, you feel your cheeks getting flushed from his stare as you glup dryly.

this happens just for a few seconds before he looks down his feet and say "im sorry, i didn't know you were coming. that shouldn't have happened"

that can just be jeonghan's fault, and you wanna roll your eyes again because of him. he told you he would make sure seungcheol was ok with it.

"so, i am sorry then. jeonghan said you were fine with me coming. i can go if you wanna be alone"

"you can stay. its not like i didn't want you here, i'd just finally have some time alone" you understand him, he is on that bed for days and jeonghan is probably not leaving his side for days. he is happy he has a friend like him but he is only human and also like his alone time too.

"i am really sorry for earlier" he says again

"lets leave that there, right? its ok" you say to him and he gives you a subtle smile "i brought you lunch" you state.

"thank you" he smiles again "i just need a shower first, then we can eat"

"alright. take your time" you say, getting on your back to walk out the room.

"hm... yn, i-" he starts but stop it quite shyly. you look back at him.

"what?" you encourage him to keep going.

"i need help to get on the bathroom" you panicked, and you hate that you let it so unworn that he immediately realizes it "no! you wont see anything! just help me walk there" you nod, relieved, going his way to help him.

you grunt tossing over your bed again, stretching your arm to the table beside it so you can reach your phone to check the time. 2:43am. you cant sleep, you've been in bed since midnight and that's stressing you out.

you sit, laying on the heardboard, your hands going to your face, another grunt leaves in frustration. why the fuck seungcheol have to have such a beautiful cock? its literally making you lose your sleep. and its not like you have completely seen it, he was half covered with the blanket and you peak only a few seconds, but the prominent vein and perfect length can't be possibly forgotten.

the real question is, why are you even losing sleep because of some dick? you are starting to get annoyed. so you play a random podcast on your phone, hoping it will help you fall asleep. you lay again, the speakers not too loud as you close your eyes, getting comfy on the sheets.

the nice and soothing voice of all those podcast speakers sounding like lullaby to your ears. you feel your body relaxing by seconds.

a hand reaching to your thighs, caressing the naked flesh. slowly getting closer to your core until the fingers slightly crossed over your closed clit, your breath is getting stuck to your throat, "do you need help, yn?" seungcheol's voice says causing goosebumps on your skin.

"wh- what are you doing here?"

"couldn't sleep thinking about you either" he says sliding his hand under your panties "oh, you're wet already"

all you do is whine as he starts to slide his finger up and down your center. seungcheol is getting closer, his mouth setting a delicate kiss to your neck as your breath gets heavier.

"does it feel good?" he whispers on your ear when he starts to massage your clit. you're moaning, your cheeks red, not knowing how did this started at first place.

he slips a finger inside and you become a moaning mess, his name like a prey on your tongue. he kisses harder and sucks on your skin, making you clench around him. he adds another finger and you feel yourself closer to the edge.

"are you close, baby?" the nickname makes you moan his name again "then, wake up"

your clock start ringing, your eyes opening fast, startled by the sound "fuck!" you groan. you fell asleep without noticing, and it couldn't get worse than having a wet dream with him.

you hit the clock beside you, silencing its ring tone, before getting up to work, and also to clean the wet mess between your legs.

you were able to get on campus on time for your first class of the day. you completed ignore the fact that you just met seungcheol outside in a wheelchair, chatting with jeonghan and joshua when you arrived. all the nervousness gathering around your stomach, remembering the shameless dream you had. you made it short with them, running over to your class soon.

right now, you are done for the day, at your living room table, books spread all over it, a way too common scenery for you. at least today is friday and you can have a much needed rest.

you close the notebook in front of you, resting your head on the back of the sofa, closing your eyes for a bit. you're interrupted by your phone ringing, you come closer, your eyes peaking to try seeing who it is calling.

with your phone on your hands now, your eyes get big as you look to the screen lighting with cheol's name on it. if you wait too long, the call is going to end, so you rush to answer.

"hello?" you sound unsure for some reason.

"hi, y/n? are you busy right now?"

"hmmm... not really, why?"

"you sure? dont want to bother if you are"

you wanna say yes but you are nervous, you dont know what is going to be the next words.

"i finished rehab just now and the way back is around your house, so i thought about calling. do you want to meet up?"

there it is. he wants to meet up, oh lord.

"sounds good. im a bit tired, tho. do you mind coming over?"

"it'd be the best anyways. im on my way"

"okay, bye!" you hang up, a smile on your lips. then it hits you... he is coming here. right now.

you rush to stow all your material. putting some things in place too, which wasnt hard, your house its pretty neat. you also take a quick shower, already hearing the doorbell once you come out.

as you open the door, it feels like the time stopped for a second. seungcheol is in casual clothes, baggy black jeans and shirt, a hoodie hugging his upper body, the cap of it on his head as his now long hair matches his beauty perfectly. his body is steady by the crutch on his both sides. his dimples make its way on his cheeks as he smiles to you by the door.

"come in" you say and he does, living his shoes beside yours on his way inside.

"i brought some takeout" he says as you rush to take it from his hands, leaving the plastic bag at the kitchen island.

you ask him if he wants anything to drink as he sets himself at the table. you eat it out with the beer he asked you. time going by as you chat with each other comfortably.

its kind of a new situation for you two. you first met because of jeonghan, but you've never gotten this close until now. you go out together with your other friends in common and have a nice relationship, but its the first time you two do something alone.

"i wonder why jeonghan called you to go check on me that day" he says cutting your thoughts.

"was it bad?" you laugh breathy, surprised by the sudden statement.

"no, no! its just because we have our group of friends as you know, you are in it. i was just surprised you were his choice between them"

"probably because i work on the healthy system" you say, knowing people are aware of you finishing your last year of nursing school.

"oh! you're right." he exclaims, it now hitting him.

you smile, staring at how cute his pouty lips look when he is thinking. you admire his plump lips and suddenly remember the dream you had just tonight, and then his coc- FUCK! stop! you think to yourself, that's not the time.

the silence takes the room after so much conversation and you decide to clean the table, hoping it cleans your mind too. you take the empty bags to the trash and when you go back to catch the stools left, cheol is jumping his way to the couch. hanging the crutch on the side as he signs after he sits. you laugh a bit, finding cute the way he jumped his way there to get faster, but getting worried once he sighs.

"is it hurting?" you ask, taking the cups and plates to the kitchen.

"its affordable" he laughs it out "it hurts a bit sometimes but its getting less constant" you pout even tho that's a good sign. you feel bad for him.

"is there anything i can do to help?" you say coming back from the kitchen. the table all cleaned up now.

"not really, just come sit here" is all he says, a smile playing on his face. oh my god, why is your tummy getting twisted.

you make your way to him, sitting kinda shy beside him, even tho that's your own familiar house. you stare at each other, not saying anything, you play an awkward grin to him and he smiles endearing. what's happening? you think in your head.

you coff slightly, breaking the silence "do you want a bag of ice for your ankles? is it still hurting?"

you both look down his ankles, his little stitch showing from the cirurgy he had, you grimace in empathy thinking about it and how it must hurt.

"not really"

"can i take a look?" you ask looking at him now.

"why?" he says. oh god, jeonghan is so right, he is kinda stubborn.

"im a nurse, you know..." you fight back lightly.

"not yet. you said you are on your last year still" he smirks and you roll your eyes.

"oh my god, seungcheol. are you scared or something? im not gonna hurt you" you say getting up from his side to go take a look. making his eyes turn big that you cant help but laugh "you are scared, um" you contest.

"no, i am not" he say it in a defensive tone and you laugh again. what a big baby.

in order to look at his ankle, you have to knee yourself in between his legs, as you are taking your position, you realize what a big mistake you did. you glup, going down. he's looking at you, his breath getting stuck when you moved, but he tried not to show his surprise.

you take his foot on your hands, taking care not to hurt him "is this ok?" you ask not spearing a glance.

"yes"

you look closer, seeing it slightly red, you press your thumb around it until you get on a place that makes him react, so you know where it's sore.

"hm, its not inflamed, just sore, i dont think you need ice, maybe a painkiller if it doesn't go away" you do your final words and he nods. but you cant see, so you look up at him with the lack of response and you see his adam's apple going up and down "what's the problem?" you ask.

"nothing" he says more in a whisper "can you get up now, please?"

that's when you realize, you look around and at your position in between his legs, eyes on his, and now you get it. you get up in one motion "hm- i- sorry" you say.

"for what? thank you for checking" he tries to collect himself and you have no choice but do the same.

you make your way beside him again, and when you look back at him, he has one of your cushion in his lap, you try to suppress the smirk that is threatening to show but he notices it.

"what?"

"are you seriously hard right now?" you shamelessly say and he glups "all i have to do is get on my knees? that easy?"

"yn, dont do this." he says sharply.

"what am i doing?"

"y'know im trying to end a boner right now. i could fuck but wanna do it when i can make you feel good"

what did he just say right now? "what makes you think i'll let you fuck me?" you press.

you knew what you are doing, but you are surprised that he seems to want it just as much as you do.

"you can pay back later" you say slowly getting closer, placing your hand on the cushion, looking at him for some kind of permission.

he lets his arms off of it, and you take the cushion out of the way. he really has a boner, suddenly the image of his cock coming to your mind again as you breath deeply.

he takes his hand to your face making you look up at him now, taking your hair out of the way, he places his hand on your neck. you two getting closer by seconds, your nose slightly touching before he finally kisses you.

he has the softest lips you've ever kissed. it starts slow like you dont want to lose your breath, but it feels so good that it gets intense fast. you stay some minutes making out before he finishes it biting your lower lip.

"why dont you get on the position you were before?" he says looking at you as you waste no time in getting between his legs again.

he is looking down at you, his lips in between his teeth as his hips bulk forward. you slowly get your hand on his growing bulge, that makes you eager to make him feel good.

you tuck your hand under his shirt, caressing his torso, feeling it hardening at your touch. he takes the opportunity to take his shirt off of him "take yours too, leave the bra on" he demands and you do, throwing it somewhere behind you.

he stares at your breast and feels it tightening in his jeans. you place your hand back, slowly undoing his jeans. he helps you sliding it off as well as his underwear, leaving a gasp when his half hard cock gets free. you stare at the kind of familiar view, even prettier up close. you salivate gulping down, making seungcheol's member throb at your action. you smirk and massage his tighs, not getting where he needs you the most yet.

"fucking get on my cock" he groans and you get a bit surprised by his tone so you immediately do as he says "good girl" he praises and you moan, you fucking moan. never in your life you thought you could moan by just a man's words, he's not even touching you. you press your core seeking for relief.

as you are handing his dick, you collect the pre cum, spreading it out in your hand and at his member. you start pumping it until he gets fully erect.

he gets foward on his seat and you look up at him as he gives you a cheap grin while collecting your hair. you know what he's doing and you let him. once your hair is in a ponytail in his hands, he brings his other to your chin to look at him.

"open up" he demans caressing his thumb on your lip. you open it wide, sticking your tongue out, making him laugh "you know it well, hm?" he says and you nod dumbly.

he gets your hand out, the one that has been working on his cock until now, he looked at it messy with his juices and after to you "clean it"

you're not so sure if that's what he wants but you start to lick your palm, getting the first tastes of him, licking your indicator first and them finishing it with both middle fingers as you suck it dry, humming at it. he nods, approving what you did.

"now, lace your fingers together for me" you do it and he press them on your chest, not putting any pressure, just keeping in place "if it gets too much you tap my wrist, got it?" you nod "i need you to use words"

"yes" you answer.

"good. now show me how you will do it" he says and you undo your fingers, tapping at the side of his wrist "very good" he praises again and you gasp "calm down, you will get what you need now" he says as he pulls you upper on your knees "open up again for me" you do "now suck my cock, little slut" he demands and you dont excitate to put your lips around his head.

he moans, laying on the back of the sofa again "you're so obedient, arent you?" you hum as you work your tongue around it before sucking it, finishing with a pop.

he throws his head back and you finally start to fully suck him off. he presses your scalp, starting to make some pressure needing more of you to feel good. you relax on him, letting him take control, as he fucks your mouth harshly.

you're getting out breath, tears falling down your cheeks as you moan around him "fuck" he reacts, slightly throbbing on your tongue. he looks at you as your eyes roll back at his cock reaching the back of your throat.

he pushes you off of him, a line of spit connecting your lips to his head. your chest going up and down, "get up" he demands once again, freeing you from his hands.

you're up in front of him as he reaches to your shorts, starting to unbutton it "im the only one who gets to get naked, so unfair" he says, tugging your shorts down your legs as he hands your waist making you turn around with easy, you yelp in surprise "lay your back" he says and you go down, reaching for the table in front of you. before you can see it happening, he rips your thong from you.

"seungcheol!" you exclaim and he doesn't say much, looking at the wet spot you left on it "its all wet, you ruined it, it hadn't much use anyways" he defends and you scoff. again, before you can see it, he is slapping you on your left butt cheek, you yelp as your eyes close, feeling the pain turning into heat "behave" he says and you just reply with a weak "ok".

he lets his fingers go up and down your slick as you sigh at his touch "oh my god, did you get this wet just from sucking me? such a cock slut"

he brings his wet fingers to his mouth, cleaning it dry, humming at your taste "you taste so good, i could eat you out for hours if i wasnt so desesparate to fuck you" he gets his hand back to your core, drawing circles at your sensitive clit now. your hips go up, opening space for him, melting at the feeling of his fingers on you. you moan his name, almost whispering it as you throw your head back, the pleasure getting more intense as the time goes by.

he slides a finger inside and you're already clenching on his finger. he fucks you slowly, eventually adding a second finger to scratch you out. he speeds up, curling it slightly as he reaches your spot, you moan loudly. that's better than in your dreams.

"cheol... i- please" you say breathlessly, sounding dizzy because you felt like you were.

"what's that?" he askes slidding his fingers off of you as you cry out.

"fuck me, please! i- i need you" you say it getting your hips down on him, slightly touching his bare cock with your core as he groans.

"ok, needy" for the first time, he sounds not so composed.

one hand in your hips, another one in his cock, he angles it to your entrance. you start to sit on it until you bottoms up. you relax on him, both of you sighing, adjusting yourselves at the pressure.

he undo your bra so it slides down your arms before handing your waist again, keeping you in place as he starts to fuck you. your hands getting back on the table for some stability as you hear the sound of your skins meeting. his hands leaving marks on you as you moan.

suddenly, you feel his thrusts haunting as he groans, sitting back on the sofa. his head resting and he whimpers in frustration, feeling you throbbing around him, asking for more, from the lack of stimulation.

"im sorry" you say.

"dont be sorry" he reassures you.

"what's wrong?" you ask slidding it off of you, he gasps from the loss and you turn around to look at him.

firstly, he whimpers again, looking at your bare titties for the first time. you follow his line of view, noticing him staring immediately as he's hoping to suck all of it, leaving marks there is all he wants right now.

he collects himself, meeting your eyes "my ankle is hurting from that position" he says, frustrated.

you get closer, caressing his hair back "that's ok. im sorry it hurts" you pout. he's looking up but you are so close right now, that he is trying so hard not to stare at your breast again.

"sit down on me" he says.

"will it not going to hurt you still?" you ask concerned.

"i dont know, im hoping not. i've never fuck anyone while injured before" he contests and you smile at his remark "come on, sit here" he demands again, tapping his thighs to you. how can you say no?

you do as he says, sitting on his lap, taking care not to crash with your weight in it.

"relax, baby" he says again pressing you down on him so you get his point.

you sit there, and he starts to caress your thighs, going up to your sides and back, making goosebumps appear all over your body, your core gathering your juices again. you hand his neck, bringing him to a kiss. he sneakily reaches your breast, caressing his fingers at your nipple. you whimper in between the kiss, encouraging him to do the same on the other one.

his hands are everywhere and he breaks the kiss to work his lips on your neck, it feels like the foreplay all over again and you're aching for some friction. as if he reads your mind, his hands are back on your ass, spreading it open and foward, the motion making you slide on his cock as both of you gasp, "keep going" he whispers on your ear, getting back to kiss there as you start to move your hips on him, feeling the prominent vein that you've only seen before.

he keeps going down to the valley between your tits until he greases his teeth on the left nipple, you arches your back moaning, and he does the same to the other one, taking his time on it. when he's done, he stares at his work, your nipples sensitive and red from all the sucking and licking.

"go on, ride me" he says looking now back at you.

you push your body up a little as you hand his cock back to your entrance, sliding it in easily now. you dont waste time on starting to move up and down on him. you throw your head back from the pleasure, as he admires your figure, collarbones and breast moving as you do on him, his eyes meet at where your bodies are connecting and he cant help put touch your clit.

"oh fuck" you moan it out as he works his fingers on your clit. you're throbbing around him "im so close, it feels so good, cheol" you say whimpering and he grunts, encouraging you to keep going as his high is close too.

you throw yourself on him, your face getting buried on his shoulders now, your thrusts haunting with your cum approaching. he senses it, handing your waist once again, applying force to help you with it.

"fuck, im gonna cum" you announce, slightly biting his skin, that's the ending point for him as he feels his high coming.

"where can i cum?" he askes you beforehand as you desesparate repeat inside as an answer "are you sure? oh- fuck" he's holding in, but he needs to make sure.

"please, please, cum inside" you whine and thats enough for him to let it go, he's cumming before you with a intense gasp after a low moan.

you whimper feeling him filling you up, making you cum right after him. you fight to keep thrusting, just to keep a bit of the friction to ride off your highs. your thighs all messy with both of your cums and so is his lap.

you stop once you're done and cant take it no more, you slide off of him, throwing yourself beside seungcheol on the sofa. eyes closed, your heads resting at the headboard, both of you panting out of breath still.

"im on the pill" you suddenly deliver those words, realizing you didn't say it before.

"fuck, i swear when im all good im gonna fuck you senseless" he spits it out, his mind wherelse. your sore pussy clench, even tho you've just got fucked by him, i guess you too are not satisfied yet. you can't wait for him to get all healed.

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