#a rivals kiss

[newttxt]

“you should see the other guys”

[sbeana]

the pool scene

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Simple Gestures

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> You and Logan, despite getting off on the wrong foot, find yourselves falling in love through simple gestures.

Disclaimer: Mostly cute fluff, an almost kiss in the snow, stargazing, stealing clothes, a little violence in the beginning, a meet ugly, simple gestures of love. Light swearing, happy ending. Not Proof Read.

Yourself and Logan had fallen in love through simple gestures. Although, that wasn’t how it always was. 

In the beginning, neither of you had exactly been in the other’s good books. Though, you supposed that had something to do with what Rogue would call your “meet cute” rather than your individual personalities. 

Your “meet cute” (as Rogue put it) had been when Xavier had first tried to recruit you to join X-Men. 

At the time, you had been living in Colorado and was spending most days either working at the library or working at the local bar. And one evening when you got home, you found three strangers on your veranda meaning they had misread your “Keep Out” sign at the pathway entrance, or had completely elected to ignore it. 

“I don’t know what you’re selling but I’m not buying.” 

You walked through the three of them and their huddle, opened up your screen door, unlocked your front door and slammed both in their faces. 

“Logan,” you heard a British voice sigh before an American one replied with; “I’m on it.”

Maybe he was Canadian?

Either way, he didn’t sound thrilled to be having to do whatever he knew was being asked of him. 

But you soon found out what that was because a few moments later, he was opening up your back door. 

So, as any woman would do when a stranger is ignoring her polite “fuck off, please” and trying to get through the back door of her home. 

You threw a book at him. 

And it wasn’t just any book. 

It was a hardback copy of Kings and Queens of Britain. 

“Wha- Jesus!”

Stumbling back, Logan caught hold of the door frame as his head mended his new found concussion. 

“Get out!” you screamed. 

Finding yourself walking towards him, you were about to shove him out when he noticed what had hit him and before you could throw a punch to his face, he caught your wrist. 

“Whoa, hey, wait. We’re not here to hurt you.”

“Said every intruder ever.”

“Please, Ms Y/l/n.” The British guy was back. “We only wish to talk.”

“Yeah?” You looked around at the three of them before you looked back at the book. Logan’s grip squeezed on your wrist to get your attention. 

He had it. 

“I wouldn’t think about it.”

Glaring from Logan, you turned back to the Brit. “Please. Just five minutes of your time.”

Once more you looked around them and yanked your wrist from Logan’s grip. Turning, you picked up your book and placed it back where you had found it. 

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you grumbled to yourself as you walked further inside. 

The three of them entered and stood around your living room as you walked from your kitchen and back in again. It was more of an open floor plan so they could still see you. Not that you were trying to hide from them. 

“So why are you here? Other than trying to break into my home?”

“We wish to offer you a job,” the woman said. 

“And you are?”

She smiled at you. So far, she was the only one you liked. “Ororo. But you can also call me Storm. And this here is Logan.”

You looked at him. “We’ve met.”

Logan mirrored your look to him. 

“And this is-”

“Professor Charles Xavier.” He introduced himself. 

You nodded. “What sort of job?”

“It’s to be a part of our team. The X-Men.”

You took a gulp of your drink. “And I want to be a part of this…why?”

The Professor rolled forward. “Ms Y/l/n-”

“Y/n.”

The Brit smiled. “Y/n. Our team is made up of some of the best people we know who are like us. Mutants.”

You paused. “Mutants?”

“Ororo here can control the weather. Hence her nickname, Storm. And Logan-”

“Is what? Catwoman? I mean, with the breaking and entering and the little kitty ears for hair, it sure does fit him.” 

Storm chuckled and Logan looked less than amused. The Professor held back his laugh, too. “Actually, Logan is, well…”

Turning his head to look at him, Logan rolled his eyes a little and gave a short sigh before bringing his fist up and clenching it just as metal claws came out. 

You grimaced. “That’s super gross.”

Logan rolled his eyes once more and put his claws away. 

“Like I was saying, our team is made up of mutants, who can help people. And with your reputation preceding you, I figured we might as well come down here and ask you ourselves.”

Looking around them all, you debated the idea. 

“Why me?”

“Your mutant abilities might prove a successful part in building our team.” Ororo explained. “With talents like yours and by joining our team, you’ll be able to help more people than just the locals here. Those in serious danger could use your help, just like they could use ours.”

“And you just expect me to join you? Like that?”

“There are other parts to your job, such as becoming a teacher. I run a school for the gifted. For mutants. To help them earn a well rounded education as well as helping them learn how to control their powers.”

Logan was baffled. “I thought we were here to put her on the team, not give her a teaching position. She can’t be a teacher.”

“Why not?” Storm asked. 

“For one,” Logan gestured to you. “She works in a bar.”

Your arms crossed your chest. “Someone’s been reading my CV.”

“You really think making a bartender a teacher is a good thing?”

Your brows knotted for a moment. “I’ll have you know I do have a teaching degree and working in a bar is only part time. I also work at a library.”

“She has a teaching degree and she’s not even a teacher.”

The Professor shrugged. “This gives her a chance to put it to good use.”

“What will I be teaching?”

“Well, considering your degree is in English and History, you’ll primarily be teaching English to our students.” The Professor smiled. “And you can take some of Logan’s classes as we move closer to final exams for our older students.”

You looked at Logan, a little shocked. From the jeans and leather jacket, you figured he’d teach something like gym or shop. That’s if he was even a teacher and not just hired muscle. 

“You,” you pointed at Logan. “Teach History?”

A little offended by your shock, Logan nodded. “I’ve lived through most of it.”

“How old are you?”

By your tone, Logan was nowhere near being less offended by you.

After more than just a five minute conversation, you agreed to take the job. And six weeks later, you had your things packed, had moved into your new room and was already teaching some new classes. 

However, considering you were already taking one of Logan’s classes a week as he helped the older students prepare for their mock exams, and neither your or Logan had gotten off on the best foot, things were a little…icy. 

“You need to get neater handwriting.” Logan blurted out one afternoon as you were both sitting in the teachers break room. 

“Excuse me?”

Logan practically slammed another paper beside his thigh. “You write like a five year old.”

“Fast handwriting is a sign of intelligence,” you pointed out. 

“Fast, maybe. But illegible isn’t.”

Another paper went down by his side. 

“You know, maybe if you took your time to actually read, you’d be able to see what it said and it wouldn’t look so much like a blur across a page.”

Logan sighed, marking another paper. “I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have.”

“Logan, I practically read for a living. I’m living every introvert's dream.”

Logan sighed, shuffling his finished papers. “And I mark for a living. Fixed your handwriting.”

Placing half of the papers back with you, Logan walked out carrying the rest with him. And as he did so, you took the top paper from the pile and read where you had written your feedback for the student. 

“It’s not illegible.”

Six months in, not much had changed. 

You and Logan still held small hostilities to one another. Though, on the handwriting front, Logan stopped mentioning it after three months so either he gave up on ever trying to change your handwriting, or he got used to it enough that he could finally understand it. 

And as time went on, the students started to gather their own opinions on you and Logan, both as individuals but also…

As a couple. 

And it was simply by luck that neither you or Logan had found out about it. 

The first teacher to find out was Storm during one of her classes, to which she mentioned it to Jean who later heard the same from her students before she shared it with Scott in the privacy of their bedroom as they were getting ready for bed one night. 

Soon enough, all the teachers save for you and Logan knew of the group of students “shipping” yourself and Logan. 

But things between you and Logan began to change almost a year into you starting your position at the school. 

“But she’s annoying.”

You already knew Logan was talking about you. Over the course of a year you’d somehow become accustomed to the tone and tune of Logan's voice when he was talking about you. 

“Oh, please,” you grumbled as you entered the Professor’s office, still dressed in your pjs. 

Though, considering you had fallen asleep in lounge wear that consisted of joggers, an old t-shirt and a black hoodie which you were 40% sure had been Logan’s at some point, you figured you could get away with being dressed the way you were at eleven in the morning. 

“I annoy everyone,” you told Logan.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Logan mumbled. 

“You’re nothing special.”

The Professor smiled to himself. Storm and the others would get a kick out of this later. 

“Thank you for joining us.”

“Why aren’t you dressed?”

You drank your coffee. “Not all of us sleep in jeans, Logan.”

“I don’t sleep in jeans.”

“Please, you’re never out of them.”

The Professor cleared his throat. “As I was just telling Logan, since final exams are coming up, I would like you and Logan to work through a plan together for next semester's classes. It seems we have a few more students than we had planned, taking History as an option next year. I’ll leave it to you both to work it out, but when you’ve finished, please give me a copy of your schedule.”

“Oh,” the Professor continued. “And please let it be an actual plan this time, Logan. Not a scribble on the back of a napkin from the kitchens. I’ll make sure the library is free tonight so you can both work without any interruptions.”

So there it was. 

After almost a year, you and Logan were being told to spend time alone together after half of the team had worked their hardest to try and make sure someone else was in the room when it came to you two in fear of you both finally snapping and doing more damage than what an encyclopaedia could do to an adamantium skeleton. 

And when Logan found you that night, he felt something shift. 

Both universally and inside of him. 

Walking into the library, he was expecting to find you absent from your chair. But instead he found you sitting at one of the desks, your ankles crossed beneath your chair, multiple notebooks around the place, two pencils in your hair, one between your teeth, pens across the desk (some without caps) and you frantically searching for something. 

On one of the smaller tables behind the sofa, Logan found a familiar notebook which he knew belonged to you, flipped open onto a page. 

Somehow in the past couple of months he’d become fluent in you. From comparing your handwriting to that of a five year old, it wasn’t long until he began to pick out words and eventually became a master in your handwriting. 

Even the others came to him, most of the time shoving your note in front of him and asking him to read it. 

“Looking for this?”

You looked up at Logan and gave a look of relief. “I thought I’d left it upstairs.”

You took it from him. “Thank you. Now where did I put my pen?”

In a similar fit of desperation, you started looking around for your pen, but something made Logan smile. Leaning across the desk, his palm on top of a couple of sheets of loose paperwork, he raised his other hand and you stopped. 

“What? What is it?”

Reaching up and behind you, you felt Logan pull something from your hair before he presented it to you with a soft smirk. 

“Is this what you are looking for?”

You looked from the pen to Logan and back to the pen before plucking it from his fingers. “Thanks.”

Logan watched as your gaze flicked from his back to your work. He stood up. “What’s all this?”

“Just things for lessons. Oh, uh, here.”

You pulled a different notepad from beneath the chaotic pile. “This is my plan for the lessons next semester. Tell me what you think.”

Logan watched as you went back to scribbling before he opened up the notepad and read through it. 

“This is good. I can take a couple more classes closer to Christmas, though. Kids’ are gonna need you for the English exams.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“How long have you been sitting here?”

You shrugged before holding down the paper you were writing on, almost like it was about to fly away. “Couple hours. I’m almost done.”

Logan looked from you and back to the pad. “I can take more lessons before Spring Break, too.”

Picking up one of the uncapped pens, Logan made his adjustments to your plan before pulling out a chair and sitting across from you. 

And for the first time, there was peace between yourself and Logan. He used your notepad to draw up a copy for the Professor on his laptop whilst you finished up your rougher lesson plans for the next couple of weeks. 

It was in the moments Logan looked at you, sitting across from him, that he felt something shift. He couldn’t tell what it was exactly, but somehow, rather than arguing with you over the fact you were wearing his hoodie that had gone missing a few months ago, he found himself admiring you in it. How cosy you looked. How warm and comforted you looked. 

And something sparked in him when he realised something of his brought you that. 

Time pressed on and those civil moments that seemed to be saved for one day out of the year, became less and less rare. 

In fact, you now found yourself looking forward to spending time with Logan. 

A sentence you never thought possible. 

You’d spent so long bickering and fighting and glaring at each other over the smallest things, that you’d both failed to realise that you could actually be quite good friends.

At the beginning of the new academic year, the students and even some of the teachers thought someone had lost complete control of their power and had set something on you and Logan. 

But no. 

You had both simply…made friends. 

Now rather than frosty mornings spent poking fun at each other, mornings were calm and a little warmer. Of course, you and Logan still bickered occasionally. Mainly when you had pointed out the change in your dynamic. 

“No, this is too weird.”

“What’s too weird?”

“Us,” you gestured between yourself and Logan. “We’re friends.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

You almost whimpered. “Don’t you find it weird?”

“That we’ve gone from not being allowed alone in a room together to being friends?” 

You nodded. 

“No.”

Logan continued hanging up the posters around your classroom. 

You sighed. “You know, sometimes you can agree with me?”

He nodded. “I know. But it is fun watching you squirm.”

“I don’t squirm.”

“You’re squirming right now because rather than bickering, which we are still doing, we’re friends.”

 You sighed and handed Logan another poster. 

Soon the days began to feel like they were bleeding into one until finally Christmas break came around and you found yourself sitting in the kitchen on a snowy day, eating some soup. 

“What is it?”

Logan had walked in to find you looking at your soup with a confused look. 

“Something’s missing.”

Less than twenty seconds later, Logan dumped some crackers beside your bowl. That’s what was missing. 

“You’re missing snow day, by the way.”

You dipped one into your soup and ate it. “I’ll be out later. If I can just find my hoodie.”

“You mean my hoodie?”

“It became my hoodie a long time ago,” you told Logan. 

Then you watched as he smirked a little before walking out of the kitchen and towards the laundry room. When he returned, he was carrying the black hoodie and handed it to you. It was still warm. 

“You left it in the library the other night after you spilled some milk down it. So I washed it.”

You smiled, almost vibrating in your seat with excitement to have a freshly washed and warm hoodie. It warmed you instantly, for more than just being fresh out of the dryer. 

A few hours later, it was keeping you warmer still as you were being pelted with snowballs by a couple of the students and eventually found yourself being chased by Logan down the field after you had sent one flying to the back of his head causing it to run down the back of his clothes. 

He caught you, spinning you both before you both found yourself rolling in the snow. Except, as you both came to a stop, Logan was flat on his back, his arms still around you and you were lying against his chest, your faces mere inches away from each other. 

And as the laughter died down and the smiles remained, you felt something shift. 

Looking from Logan’s eyes, you own dropped to his mouth for a moment before coming back up again. And you couldn’t help but notice he did the same with you. Suddenly, his hands that had kept you steady were now creeping across your back and his touch was practically seeping into your skin. 

Only, before anything could happen, you were both hit with a snowball. 

“Come on you two, we’re dying out here!” Rogue yelled before narrowly missing a snowball being thrown at her. 

You and Logan laughed before scrambling to your feet and heading back into the game. 

Later that evening as you and Logan were doing the last rounds of the school, you’d found a couple of kids fast asleep in their pjs, clearly having snuck out of bed at the last minute to watch the late night snowfall. 

Yourself and Logan carried them back to bed, you shutting the light off as Logan closed the door quietly. And as he bid you goodnight, a part of you couldn’t help but wish that you weren’t going off to a different room, two hallways down from him. 

However, it was only a few mornings later when Logan came and woke you earlier in the morning than usual to bring you down to breakfast where everyone was up and ready for the day. It was a surprise field trip and by the time you had gone back to your room to get dressed, you gave a small yelp as you opened the door back up to find Logan already standing there. His fist was held up, just getting ready to knock on. 

“Jesus, Logan. Give a girl a word of warning before you go to knock her out.”

Logan chuckled a little. “You ready?”

You grabbed your bag. “Yeah, let's go.”

The day was fun but it was long and after spending half of the night convincing yourself of “one more chapter, then sleep” – it was safe to say you were knackered. 

So when Logan pressed his hand to your head and brought it down to rest on his shoulder as he leaned back, you didn’t protest. 

Only, since your eyes were closed, you had missed the small smile on his face when he noticed you were nodding off and the comfortable sigh that left him when he realised you were fast asleep against him. 

Halfway back to the school, he’d felt you shiver a little. 

“Rogue?”

She pulled out her headphones and looked back at him. “Yeah?”

“There’s a blanket in the cabin above your head. Pass it to me.”

Unbuckling her seatbelt, she did so, but took time to take in the picture before her as Logan covered both himself and you up as you slept. 

“What?”

Rogue just smiled, “Nothing.”

And she sat back down. And for as much as Logan wondered what Rogue meant by her smile, the thought left his head when he looked back down at you and you snuggled in closer to him. 

Once you all finally got back, Logan led you to your bedroom and slipped the shoes off your feet as you climbed under your covers. But as he went to walk away, you reached out and grabbed hold of his hand. 

And for a moment, he soaked it all in. 

The feeling of you holding his hand. The feeling of you falling asleep against him. The feeling of you. 

Until you let go.

It was only a few months later that you held onto his hand again, except this time you were fully conscious and didn’t let go until after the plane had landed. 

You had known Logan was afraid of flying since you first met him. You’d gotten onto that plane to take a short tour around the school before you officially accepted the job. Only, as you stepped onto the plane, you noticed Logan became tenser. And when it finally took off, he seemed like he was either wishing to pass out or he was gonna puke. 

“You’re afraid of flying.” You said almost with a smile, delighted to find out that the gruff man you’d thrown a book at merely an hour before, was afraid of something. 

Logan's stomach churned. “If man was meant to fly, he’d grow wings.”

You leaned back watching him with a smile. “Some already have.”

Logan just looked at you and tried to put his focus elsewhere. 

Knowing this, and finally being his friend, you found a seat next to him. The flight was going to be a long one. 

“How can you be afraid of flying? Weren’t you in the army for like…a gazillion years?” You asked as you boarded on with him. 

“You try nearly dying each time you get in one of these things, see how bad you’re itching to get back in one again.”

Logan put his bag in the compartment at the back before taking yours and placing it with his. As he buckled his seatbelt, you found difficulty with yours and just as you were about to give up or, at the very least, swear at the inanimate object, Logan’s body turned and helped you do it up. 

“These can be tricky.”

He clipped it together. “Thanks.”

He looked at you before sitting back in his seat, trying to find something to concentrate on as the jet started to lift. 

Only, his search to find something else became distracted when your hand reached across and held onto his. And for a moment, he was shocked. And then he smiled. And relaxed a little. With a little bit of turbulence, he squeezed your hand but never enough to truly hurt. 

But you never let go. 

And when the jet finally landed and you both found tarmac under your feet, you felt the climate hit you a lot more than you had been expecting. Except, less than a minute later, the familiar scent of Logan surrounded you and you found his jacket spreading over your shoulders. 

You smiled, letting your senses drown in his scent and warmth before you slipped your arms through the holes and found your way to your intended location. 

A week later, you were all sitting around in the living room, reading different things or watching TV. However, Logan lay on the sofa with his head in your lap, slowly dozing off to the sound of the TV, you turning your book pages every now and again and your heartbeat which only seemed to be amplified when he pressed his ear to your leg, hearing the blood rush around your body. 

By the time he woke up, everyone had disappeared, the lamps were on, the TV was on low and you were sitting on the floor, not too far from his head, going through a small pile of essays. 

“Hey.”

His voice sounded a little rougher than usual. You turned your head and smiled. It wasn’t often you got to see sleepy Logan, let alone comfortable Logan. 

“What are you doing?”

“Just some marking. Ooh, now you're awake, can you read what this says?”

Logan took the paper from you and looked at it. “This is your handwriting.”

“I know but I can’t tell what it says.”

But Logan could. 

You thanked him before taking the paper back. “Sometimes I think you know my handwriting better than I know my handwriting. Case in point.”

“You’re your own language.”

You smiled. “And after a year, you’re an expert. Maybe you missed your calling. Logan, the Language teacher. Read and speak in English, grunts, kitty cat and my handwriting.”

Logan groaned, trying to hide his smile. He was still waking up. His muscles couldn’t fight it off just yet. “I’m not a cat.”

“You have quite literal claws.”

“I’m Wolverine.”

You jokingly scoffed. “You’re a cat. But it’s okay, I won’t tell anyone.”

Logan just rolled his eyes with his smile and brought his hand over to cover your mouth. “You done?”

You eventually nodded and went back to marking the essays whilst Logan simply watched you. 

He’d found himself doing more of that recently; watching you. Not in a stalker kinda way- at least, he hoped not. But just small things you did in the day. Grading papers, scribbling on paper, walking down the hallway and somehow avoiding every pillar and post on the way despite your nose being buried deep inside whatever book you were reading. 

And he’d noticed more things about you, too. 

How you walked, how you moved. And when you were in the zone, it was almost like watching you dance. You knew what you were doing, ten steps ahead of time. You’d caught more students talking and passing notes more than even he had. 

Some days, when he was on his lunch break, he’d sneak into the back of your classroom. The class would be fully engrossed in whatever it was you were talking about, so he mostly went unnoticed. So, he’d pull up a chair at the back and sit in the sea of students. 

And when he forced himself to pay attention to what you were saying, rather than just checking you out and watching you, he managed to learn a thing or two. 

It was also on some of those days, you’d find a protein bar and a coffee at your desk by the time you returned back to class. 

For another year, these small gestures continued. You, holding his hand during a plane ride, him bringing you coffee and a snack, both of you falling asleep on each other, him routinely finding lost pens and pencils that most of the time were stuck in your hair or behind you ear. Even going so far as to bring each other meals when you knew the other had missed one. 

That was how the “dates” started. Sometimes in the library, other times in the kitchen or out in the garden. If one of you was missing for a meal, the other would wrap leftovers on a plate. 

Across a couple of these nights, some of the students had gone unnoticed when passing the rooms. Because, when you and Logan looked at each other, everything else faded away. 

And then one night everything changed. 

Everything went from the small moments and small gestures and a friendship that made you question if that’s all you wanted when it came to Logan, to both of you confronting your questions with the answers you’d both known, deep down, for a long time. 

Or maybe it was just one answer. 

“Yes.”

Logan turned and found Rogue leaning in the hallway. He placed down the photo frame he’d been holding. 

“I was just looking at some pictures. Found one of you.”

Logan picked up a second and held it out for her to see. “Cute. But, I don’t think that’s why you were looking here.”

Rogue put the photo down and picked up the familiar frame. The picture Logan had just been holding. 

“You know, if you asked her, she’d probably say yes.”

Logan put the photo back down. “Say yes to what?”

“You know what.”

“No, I don’t.”

Rogue gave a smirk as she watched Logan walk away. And she followed after him. 

“You can’t just run away from feelings, you know. They’re inside of you. Unless you can outrun your own skin, you can’t leave them behind.”

Logan looked at her. “Don’t you have a class to be in?”

“My final exam is tomorrow.”

Logan pushed open the door. “Then shouldn’t you be studying?”

“Giving my eyes a break.” Rogue hopped down the steps behind him. “It’s just a date, Logan. Everyone already knows you’ve completed steps 4 through 20. Just need to complete the first three.”

“Three?”

Rogue followed Logan into the garage. “Ask her out on a date, first kiss and first…time.”

Rogue smiled up at Logan a little, watching him blush a little before awkwardly walking away. “I forget you’re old enough to know about stuff like that.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s just sex, Logan. But the more important part here is step one. Asking her out on a date.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Step twenty.” Rogue told him. “You’re in love with her.”

Logan paused what he was doing and turned to look at Rogue. “Logan, you can’t just keep running away each time you feel something for someone.”

“I’m not running away.”

“Then where are you going?”

“To the store. We need some things.”

Rogue sighed, getting back to her point. “Look, I get your whole “lone wolf” act, but you keep forgetting something.”

“Really? And what’s that?”

“A lone wolf can still find a pack. Better yet, build one of their own.” 

Logan took in Rogue’s expression as she held onto the door on the other side of the truck. He sighed. 

“Do you need anything from the store?”

“Period pads.”

By the time Logan got back from the store, it was almost nightfall. He left the bag of products inside Rogue’s door before he headed into the kitchen and found it…quiet.

“Where is everyone?” Logan asked as he put the milk away. 

You looked over your shoulder from the stove. “Jean and Scott are out on a date, Ororo took the kids out with the Professor. Last minute deal – they get to spend a night inside a museum.”

“Anyone else home?”

You shook your head. “Just us.”

“So,” Logan eventually found his seat across the kitchen island from you. “What do you want to do?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t really have a plan outside making dinner and eating outside.”

So that’s what you both ended up doing. Sitting outside, under the stars, backlit by the lights from the kitchen, eating dinner. 

Logan washed up inside, looking over his shoulder every now and again to see you stood outside, looking up at the sky. 

“You know, back home you could see all the stars. I think I was about ten when I finished mapping out all the constellations I could see.”

Logan leaned against the backdoor, listening to you explain. Then with a smile and a kick of his feet, he made his way over to you. 

“Here.”

“What?”

Logan opened up his jacket for you and you thanked him quietly as he helped you slip it on. It was big, the sleeves managing to cover your hands more than your own jackets did. 

Twirling you around, Logan pulled the jacket close by the collar and you found yourself inches from him. 

“Figured you’d get cold.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

And for a while, you both just looked at each other. You’d noticed Logan always had this look on his face when he looked at you. You just couldn’t pin it. But then it shifted. Like you could see the cogs turning in his head, but he had come to a conclusion before you could ask. 

“What?”

“Do you want to go on a date?”

You felt yourself reel back a little, trying to decide if he was bullshitting you or not. And it took a moment or two, but once you realised he was being serious you said…

“Yes.”

“With me?”

You nodded with a smile. “I’d love to.”

“Are you sure?” Logan asked, his hands still holding onto the jacket. 

You raised your brow slightly. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

“Good.” You gave a short nod before looking back at him. “I like a man who knows what he wants.”

Brushing the hair from your face to behind your ear, Logan smiled. And so did you. Feeling his warmth through his palm as he caressed your face, he drew you in. 

And when his lips finally met yours, something seemed to click into place. 

That feeling that had been growing inside of you, ever since you saw him for the first time when he’d pulled the pen from your hair all those nights ago, was finalised. 

This had been the shift. This was the change. You’d both taken a step forward without realising it and had found not only comfort but love in each other's presence. 

“Are you busy now?”

You shrugged, your arms looping around the back of Logan’s neck. “Depends. What for?”

“For our date.”

“Now?” You asked, a little shocked. 

Logan nodded. “Come with me.”

Holding onto his hand, he hurried you down the stone steps and towards the garden. You laughed. 

“Logan, slow down. Where are we going?”

He smiled. “You’ll see.”

And you did. 

He’d taken you to the greenhouse, climbing up the spiralling staircase and out onto the small rooftop. 

Looking up to the sky, you took in a breath. 

“It’s gorgeous.”

You were in amazement. The greenhouse was far enough away from the school that none of the lights from it polluted your vision. The sky was as clear as it had ever been and you felt like you could see for miles on end. Most of it was woodland, covered with a blanket of stars. 

It was one of the most extraordinary things you had seen in a long time. 

However, when you looked to find Logan to gauge his reaction, you just found him looking at you. 

[xiewho]

toxic AND doomed by the narrative. who is doing it like u kristen applebees

[sweetnnaivete]

trust fund baby james and scholarship student lily meeting at a prestigious university and instantly becoming rivals because lily can't believe that stuck-up prick is as smart as she is, and james can't believe lily has more friends and is more popular than him.

[winterzz7]

these mfs be slacking off during work hours 😒

[midnightblue66]

7 min in heaven sneak peek 🥰

[sweetapplecurry]

Old habits die hard, I guess <3

[themarychain]

okay upon my (sixth) rewatch of saltburn, I’m now absolutely sure that oliver and farleigh have penetrative sex in their scene, that oliver takes farleigh inside himself. It’s a power move: oliver offered himself up during the karaoke session, but farleigh rejected him, which oliver hadn’t been prepared for. he forces his way into farleigh’s room and MAKES farleigh accept him, take him, forces him to ‘behave/obey’, just as he forces his way into the cattons’ lives and in to saltburn itself

[aiden-artsy]

I think he hates him frfr?!

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Cardigan

Summary: Spencer Reid x Fe!Reader (BAU Agent) -> A case, a cardigan and a life time of memories help both you and Spencer realise something about yourselves.

Disclaimer: Not proof read. Mentions of Criminal Minds level violence. 16+. Fluff, pining. Descriptions of being attacked and falling into a river (but ends safely). Garcia sorting out two blind oblivious idiots. Happy Ending.

23:49

Usually, people were asleep close to midnight. Usually, people were dreaming of their favourite TV show and character, imagining a world where they worked alongside them or danced the night away with them in a ballroom that could make a Disney Live-Action movie jealous. 

However, that was not what you were doing. 

Instead, you were opening up your bathroom door and walking back inside your hotel room. The carpet a little rough beneath your feet, you unravelled your hair from the towel and began ringing out what was left of the water from your shower. 

Moving over to your closet, you pulled open the door and found what you were looking for. 

A cardigan. 

The Cardigan. 

The one you wore whenever you were in need of a little comfort because, despite owning it and washing it multiple times over the years, it was still him. 

One touch of the fabric and it was like being transported back to the day he gave it to you. Or, at least, let you borrow it then proceed to keep it. 

The case had been in Colorado. 

Four female students had gone missing in the space of two months. And, as much as it could be considered a coincidence, they all matched the same description and had last been seen at a convenience store, with fresh spray paint of their single initial. 

And, on the fourth night of the case, you were at such a place. 

All it had been for was a snack run for yourself, JJ and Morgan. However, as you began walking back down the street, you heard the shake of a spray-paint can and, the minute the stranger found your eyes, they set off running. 

And so did you. 

Making a call on your way, you shared your location with Garcia who patched in Morgan and Reid from the precinct. 

“Hey, wait! Stop!”

Round a back alley corner, you lost them. You walked further up to see if you could find a trail, however, all you found was a small bridge and a river. 

And as you looked around, from behind you, you felt someone try and run you down and it became a struggle. 

Fighting back and forth until he took hold of your jacket and pulled you over the edge with him. 

Disorientated from the fall, you struggled to find your way back up to the surface and when you did, you were only dragged back down. 

However, in all the commotion, a light came from the bridge and your attacker suddenly let go and, from the waves of the water, began swimming away as fast as he could. 

Coughing up the last of the water, you pulled yourself up the edge of the riverbank, laying on your back until your heart rate slowed down enough for you to catch a decent breath. 

“Hey, hey! Y/n! Look at me.”

Turning on your side, you tiredly pushed Morgan’s hand down from your face. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Do you think you can stand it?”

You nodded. “Just give me a minute.”

“What the hell happened?”

“You mean other than me being dragged into a river giving me flashbacks of college?”

“Y/n!? Y/n?! Are you okay?”

“She’s fine, pretty boy.” Morgan called back up the riverbank as Reid made his way down. 

“Are you sure?!”

“I’m fine, Spencer. I swear.”

Having made his way to your side, he kneeled down a little, checking you over. Only when he touched your skin did you realise you must have hit your head under the water on something because it was stinging from an open cut. 

“Sorry,” Spencer said as you hissed. 

“It’s okay, Just…help me up.”

Spencer did as he was told and Morgan led the way back up the bank. 

By the time you made it back to the precinct, considering it was closer than the hospital and they already had a paramedic waiting, JJ and some other officers had found the Spray Paint runner, and had pictures taken of the job he had done outside of the store. 

Having taken a shower in the locker room, Emily passed you through some of your spare clothes which consisted of a black t-shirt and some grey joggers. You were sitting in the hallway, your hair was damp and still dripping a little around your shoulders. Meanwhile, in your hands lay one of the pictures the CSI had taken. 

It could have been a coincidence, but more than likely it wasn’t. 

It was your initial. 

A shiver had taken hold of your body, whether from the truth or the cold you didn’t know. 

“Hey, here.”

From down the hall, Spencer approached you and removed his cardigan. “You’re cold.”

“I’m fine, Spence.”

“You fell in a river and now have washed, wet hair in a building filled with AC. You’re cold. Here.”

With a slight smile, you took the cardigan from him and in almost an instant, it warmed you. It had been warmed by him and now it was warming you. 

“Thank you.”

Spencer smiled, looking around before picking up the towel that was laid over the back of your chair. 

“Here.”

Slowly pulling your hair around to one side, Spencer rang out the last of the water with the towel. 

“Did they get him?”

Your voice was quieter than usual. 

“The spray painter? Yes. Hotch has him in interrogation right now. Morgan and Emily are out looking for the guy who attacked you.”

You just nodded, part of your brain reliving the attack. 

From the back of your neck, Spencer could see a large bruise. It wasn’t too bad, but he knew it still hurt you considering whenever you moved in your seat, it seemed a struggle. 

“But I don’t match the MO.” 

This was something you couldn’t wrap your head around. You were out of college age range. The girls kidnapped didn’t have the same features. Similar, perhaps. But not the same. You hadn’t been in any similar places, other than the convenience store. 

“We’re thinking that perhaps he revisited some of the old sites.”

“And I’m the one that is closest to his victims…”

Spencer nodded and you took a deep breath, handing him the picture. “I can’t keep looking at that.”

You both sat in silence for a few minutes until Spencer finished and placed the towel down on the back of the chair again. 

“I was thinking about picking up some food, how about you come with me?”

Taking in a breath, you collapsed your hands between your knees and stood. “Yeah. Let me just use the bathroom.”

Spencer nodded, watching you push the door to the ladies room open, before Hotch walked over. 

“You’re taking her out?”

“Yeah, I thought it would be best.”

Hotch nodded. “Maybe try and get her to talk about it. See what she remembers. Anything that can help us track down the attacker.”

“Ready to go?” Spencer said, watching as you came out of the bathroom door. 

“Yeah.”

Sitting in the passenger seat, Spencer drove through the small town, and a little down the highway towards the only decent diner close to the town. 

In the passenger seat, you kept your eyes fixed on the scenery outside the window whilst the scent from Spencer’s cardigan blocked out the scent from the cheap shampoo one of the officers had found in a locker. 

Every now and again Spencer would glance over at you, that swirling feeling in his stomach getting stronger and stronger. When Garcia had patched the call through, he had heard your voice and something dropped in his stomach. He tried his best to remain calm, asking where you were and what you saw but when you went quiet, just before he heard a grunt in pain, his heart dropped. 

Spencer had met you in the Academy. 

Like himself, you too had been a child prodigy of sorts so you were around his age, too. Often, you found yourself in the same circles, however a small part of each of you seemed to compete against one another. 

An exam, a race, a training course. 

However, neither of you were too focused on your small rivalry to not help when the other needed it. 

After all, after Hotch, you were the one to help Spencer continue to hold his gun licence. 

And he was the one to help you finish up paperwork on those late nights. 

And when he saw your body unmoving on the side of the riverbank, it felt like his heart was shattering. 

It felt like you had been there for most of his life and you had, at least, for his adult life. And the thought that you wouldn’t be there for the rest of it brought such pain to him…he didn’t know what to do other than try his best to remember your voice and the way your hand fit into his as he helped you up from the grass and how you felt, leaning against him on the drive back. 

He didn’t want to let you go, so when Hotch said someone should watch you, he was the first to say yes. 

He’d known you the longest and, for what it was worth, he knew you trusted him enough that if you wanted to open up, it, in one way or another, would have been to him. 

And he was right, by the time he pulled up outside of the diner, you explained all that you could remember to him. From the turnings you took, to the feeling of being under the water and having a split second of thinking you wouldn’t make it back to the surface. 

And when you cried, wiping away the tears on your cheeks with the sleeve of his cardigan, Spencer unbuckled his belt and reached over, hugging you so tight it was like if he ever let go, he would stop breathing. 

You thought back to that night as you slipped your arms through the sleeves. 

There had been a couple of different nights after that, that you thought of when you took in the feel and smell of The Cardigan. 

One such night had been when Spencer and JJ had been out in the field. You had stayed back with Garcia, however that same feeling of having someone pull your heart so far back in your chest it began to hurt your spine, washed over you again. 

The only thing that helped settle it was wearing his cardigan. 

It was rare you did wear it, however when you did it was often for comfort and to settle your nerves from whatever was happening. 

Garcia didn’t say anything, but she smiled. 

She’d seen you wear The Cardigan when you came back from the Colorado case, and when you were stuck in the office late at night a few months later, and whenever she called someone on the jet when you fell asleep on Spencer’s shoulder, his head resting on yours. 

But this was the confirmation she needed. 

Both against you, and Spencer. 

So, when nightfall came and you had decided to wait for the rest of the team to get back, she finally said something. 

You had been sitting at your desk, leaning back in your chair, a pencil poked through your hair whilst a pen twirled in your hand. 

“You should talk to him.”

“What?”

Garcia smiled. “Reid. You should talk to him.”

“Why?” your stomach dropped. “Is everything okay? He’s not-”

Garcia shook her head. “He’s okay. But, you should talk to him.”

“Why?”

Penelope placed a hand on your shoulder, the soft wool of the cardigan under her palm. 

“This is his.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. 

“If you're worried he doesn’t feel the same?” Garcia pinched the fabric and shook it a little. “This is proof he does.”

“What are you-”

“For being a top profiler, you guys sure don’t know how to read a love story when it’s right in front of you.”

“Pen-”

Garcia just smiled again. “Talk to him. You’ll be surprised.”

She took her leave from there, calling out her goodbyes from the entrance door. Not too long after that, the rest of the team walked back through the door to collect the rest of their things, and if you weren’t mistaken, they all seemed to have a quiet smile on their face when they spotted what you were wearing. 

However, in the end, it was just you and Spencer. And Garcia’s words kept circling around in your head. 

“Hey, Spence?”

He turned around. 

And you chickened out. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I- it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, okay. Well…goodnight.”

“Night.”

What you didn’t notice as Spencer left was when he took another look. You had your back to him, so he could take a slightly longer look. The feeling in his heart grew a little more as he took in the memory of you in his cardigan. 

You had tried to give it back, sneakily. However, he thinked you looked better in it. And, due to the feeling in his heart, it would forever be yours. So, he made sure to be out of the office before you one night so, when you found it looped through your bag, you had no other option but to keep it. 

And now, with it holding your body. Holding your soul. You took in its scent. 

You had been in love with Spencer since shortly after you had both joined the BAU. He was the first familiar face you saw when you landed in the office. He’d already been there at least five years, maybe bordering on six when you joined. And all it had taken was a simple coffee order. 

You had changed your coffee order since you’d both been graduates since the Academy, however, despite the change…Spencer didn’t have to ask. 

He turned up at the door of your apartment, holding out the cup for you when you opened the door to let him inside. 

All he did was stand in your apartment and look around, whilst you drank him in. You’d both changed over the years and of course you had liked him, ever since you first met him. Anyone that took the time to know him, liked him, too. 

But there was something. 

Maybe it was his confidence. 

Maybe it was the fact he knew your favourite coffee order after six years of not seeing one another. 

But either way, you knew. 

You knew you loved him. 

A familiar knock came to the door of your hotel room, knocking you out of your memories and back into reality. 

An hour later, you were sitting downstairs with the others, examining all the old case files, begging for something to jump out. 

JJ sighed and threw one of the finished case files onto the table. “I’m beat. I can’t find anything. I think if I close my eyes, I can see the text written on the back of my eyelids.”

The others felt the same so it wasn’t long before they, one by one, went to bed. 

Leaving just yourself and Spencer by the warming fire. 

As it approached four in the morning, you closed your file and rubbed your eyes. 

“Anything?”

“Nothing.”

“I think I’m gonna go to bed. If I look at this case file much longer, I’m gonna be like JJ.”

However, despite wishing to go to bed, you must have fallen asleep on the sofa as a few moments later, Spencer’s hand was on your shoulder. 

“Hey, you fell asleep.”

“Oh.”

“I would have left you, but you’ll probably wake up with a stiff neck.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Spencer helped you sit up and you watched him tidy away a couple of the case files. They were safe enough in the boxes considering the entire team had all the rooms in the hotel booked out. 

Once he had done that, you tidying up a few of the boxes, Spencer fixed the fire guard in front of the diminishing flames when you stood and said;

“Goodnight, or…Good morning or…whichever it is. I’ll see you when I wake up.”

“I love you.”

That stopped you in your tracks and woke you up. 

With you back still to Spencer, you took a moment to breathe. Maybe you had just imagined it. 

You heard Spencer whisper something to himself, a small battle growing large in his head over letting those three words slip. 

Until, he said them again. 

And this time you heard him crystal clear. 

“I love you.”

Turning around slowly, you were soon met with his own back.

“What?”

Your voice, despite how much you thought you had your emotions in check, wavered. 

Spencer turned around to face you. “I-I’m sorry. I-I should just let you-”

“Spencer, wait-”

You practically jumped forward, reaching out for him to stop. And he did. 

“Say it again.”

Standing so close to him, the heat you felt…you couldn’t tell if it was from the diminishing embers or from Spencer himself. 

“I love you.”

“Do you…” you swallowed, looking down for a moment, feeling his fingers trace yours. You finally looked back up to his face. “Do you mean it…as in…”

“M-more than what we are.” 

It was his turn for his voice to shake. 

“Are you…sure that you…”

“Sure enough, like how I know how…how to…breathe. Although, right now I don’t know how much of that is true because…because I don’t know how to-”

You placed a hand on his chest but Spencer’s own hand came to cover yours and moved it over his heart. 

“I’d say you’re breathing.”

Spencer smiled. “Good.”

“I love you. I-I don’t know what this means, or what it will do and, honestly, I didn’t mean to tell you like this but I was thinking and then, I started overthinking and, I don’t know, when you said goodnight, I meant to say it back and then I-”

“Spence. Spencer,” you tried your best to slow him down. His heart was practically beating out of his chest. “I love you, too.”

“You-you love me, too?”

“I do.”

“You do?”

You nodded, holding his face in your hands. “I do. I love you, too, Spencer. I-I always have.”

From your hips, one of Spencer’s hands stopped at your waist, pulling you in just a little bit closer until your body was flushed with his before allowing his other to move further up, brushing the hair from your face and across your back. His finger traced the shape of your face, before settling under your jaw, bringing your face closer to his. 

He took it slow. 

Even despite the fact you had reciprocated his feelings of love, he gave you time to opt out. To say no. to push him away. 

Flicking his eyes from your own, to your lips and back again. The first touch of his lips against yours was soft, barely fleeting. 

Until you kissed back. 

Your relaxed hands pulled him slightly closer, first by his neck, then by the collar of his shirt. All the while, his arms snaked around you, holding you flush against him. 

“I might be a few years late in asking, but,” Spencer said once he finally managed to catch his breath. “Can I take you on a date?”

“Yes. Yes, Spencer. You can take me on a date.”

Years Later...

“Did I ever tell you you look good in this?”

“Your cardigans, you mean?” You smiled as Spencer took hold of your hand and pulled you closer. “Oh, every day. But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

“Well, you do.”

With a smile as he pulled you down and onto his lap, you kissed him, your arms coming around his neck and across his shoulders. 

“Good.”

It had been four years since Spencer had first admitted his feelings for you and, even if life had sent you both through trials and tribulations, you’d both made it alive, together and stronger than ever. 

It hadn’t taken that long for the rest of the team to figure out something had finally happened between you two, however, it still had taken a while. It was only because Morgan recognised a second cardigan that had belonged to Spencer less than a week earlier suddenly wrapped around you one late evening. 

“And speaking of cardigans…” you sat up a little straighter to see Spencer as he leaned his head back to take you in fully. 

He still looked at you with as much love and adoration as he had done that early morning in the hotel. Perhaps even more. 

“We’re gonna need to buy a couple more.”

“Didn’t you just buy one yesterday?”

“Perhaps,” you nodded. “But this one isn’t for you, well…us…exactly.” 

It hadn’t taken long for you to start wearing Spencer’s cardigans on a daily basis, but he was more than agreeable to it considering whenever he saw you in one of his, his heart soared and he knew you felt safe in them, too. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, considering ours might be a little too big…”

Then it clicked for Spencer. 

“You’re…”

From a small pocket in your cardigan, you pulled out a positive pregnancy test. 

“You’re gonna be a dad, Spence.”

Tears already starting to fall from your eyes, you watched as Spencer welled up and with a shaking hand took hold of the test to look at it. 

“You’re pregnant?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant!”

“I’m pregnant!”

In a sweeping kiss, Spencer pulled you closer as you slid down and lay against his side, your legs still over his. 

“We’re gonna have a baby.” Spencer smiled, turning from the pregnancy test to you with a smile unlike any other you’d ever seen on his face. 

“We’re gonna have a baby.”

[jakkenpoy]

[ocelotegg]

what if they stopped fighting and held hands. i think it would be pretty neat myself.

linework under the cut

(eta: not intentional but i actually love how ruined the image quality is on the meme version. it's so unbelievably crunchy)

[drowsystarlight]

He swears this is anatomy research for humans who transcend godhood

[harmonytheme]

[kissmypoets-hp]

Fanfic Classics (after zeziliazink and bubu0h)

🚣🏼🚣🏻 Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses

The Finish by J.C. Leyendecker (1908)

The Happy Rower by J.C. Leyendecker (1906)

Two versions because I couldn't choose! The first painting definitely feels like something I'd see on a paperback. Finding the second Leyendecker piece absolutely tickled me, though: a fair-haired rower wearing a kit with 'H' in Gryffindor red??? Come on...