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mcrdvcks · 10 months ago

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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 #logan ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ #abby's works ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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womanofwords · 3 months ago

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Everybody's Favourite (Part 1)

Everything turned upside-down when the principal pulled you out of class when you were seven years old. You'd been colouring nicely when she came in.

"Y/N, I'd like to talk to you," she said. "Could you come with me?"

"Have I done something wrong?" you asked.

"No, dear. Just get your stuff."

You collected your things and went with her, where a police officer was waiting. "Here's Y/N, officer," she said to him. That was when you learned, in a haze of horror, that your dear mother had died while you were colouring in class without a care in the world. Car accident.

"Not to worry, she made arrangements as to who would look after you in the event of this happening," the police officer said. "Your biological father . . . Bruce Wayne."

So off you went to your new home, away from your friends and old neighbourhood and everything you'd ever known, and towards the figure known as Bruce Wayne.

The first thing you noticed about your father was that he was, obviously, very rich. All his cars were the fancy ones you used to stare at with your mom when you would walk together.

When you arrived, you had all sorts of questions for your father. "How did you meet my mother? Why didn't you talk to me before this? Did you like spending time with her?"

"I'm rather busy, Y/N. I'll show you to your room," Bruce said, escorting you to a guest bedroom. "We can decorate it later."

Later never came.

After a few weeks, you met his other kids, Dick, Jason, Tim, Barbara, Cass, and Stephanie. They all looked so cool, like teenagers from a movie. But they always had to 'do stuff'.

"What kind of stuff?" you asked.

"They're a part of scholarships for gifted students," Bruce said, before any of them could say anything. "I happen to be privately tutoring them."

"Oh. So you spend time with them because they're talented?"

"You could put it that way."

That revelation lit a fire underneath you. If your father wanted talented kids, then you would have to be a talented kid.

In everything you could get your hands on.

You became a polyglot, devouring different languages like nobody's business. You took part in gymnastics, just like Dick, and also track. You got straight As in everything, forcing yourself to study night after night. You read the same classic books Jason loved so you could (hopefully) have something to bond with him over. You took some coding classes so you had something to talk about with Tim.

Alfred became a consistent source of comfort, bringing you food and making sure that you didn't over work yourself. He came to every event you had, loyally videotaping it for future viewing.

Nobody cared to look at the tapes. Nobody watched you collect your awards for fastest times, or graduate early as valedictorian. Nobody listened to your headmaster sing your praises as he listed your various scholastic accomplishments.

Damian was the worst. The moment he met you, it was clear that he would hate you until he died. He looked at you with such disgust, such contempt for your existence. Once, he cornered you with a katana that he held so close to your neck that you were cut. Another time, he sicced Titus onto you, leading to a nasty bite mark on your arms when you put them up to defend yourself.

"Titus mauling you would have been an improvement to the Wayne bloodline," he sneered, as you bawled your eyes out. "When are you going to get it through your simple-minded skull that we don't care what happens to you? It's annoying to hear you chatter to us and make conversation about being head of your class and breaking sports records. We all scoff about it when we're on patrol."

Your throat went dry. "Patrol?"

"Of course. Father, Dick, Jason, Stephanie, and myself all have our own alter egos. I am by my father's side cleaning the streets of scumbags as Batman and Robin while you are trying to be top of your stupid little class." He punched you in the stomach, hard. "Honestly, it's a relief to get away from you and your nauseating neediness."

Alfred came to console you after the fact, but he wouldn't hear a word against Damian for hurting you, or Bruce for letting it happen. "Master Damian has had a . . . difficult life, Y/N," he said. "And Bruce's childhood was by no means easy."

You gave up on your family after that. Nobody really wanted you, and Damian actively hated you.

You were nobody's favourite.

Part 1 <- You are here

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

#creative writing #my writing #writing inspiration #writers #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #batfam #yandere #platonic yandere #yandere batfam

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the-witty-pen-name · 6 months ago

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New Years, New Beginnings

Steve Harrington x PlusSize!F!Reader

Summary: You don’t believe he’s sincere any time Steve Harrington has asked you out. It’s not until a messy New Year's Eve confession that you realize you may have been wrong.

Warnings: 18+ for suggestive content; cursing; body image issues/insecurity; mentions of bullying; miscommunication; slight angst; horniness but no smut; slightly sub!steve if you squint

Word Count: 3.0k

You pride yourself on graduating Hawkins High as inconspicuous as possible. You detest attention in most forms and your priority was moving through those three years avoiding most of your peers. Describing yourself as shy was an understatement. Your preteen and teenage years were riddled with the most intense insecurity.

You were never bullied for your appearance- at least not directly. However, you absorbed every look and every offhand comment like a sponge. You were very aware of the space you took up in a room and how different you felt compared to your friends. As a kid, you remember when you caught on to the way your Halloween costumes were always homemade while your friends had no issue fitting into store bought costumes. You feel like you stand out in group pictures so you slouch, and suck in your tummy and stick out your chin- overtime it just became second nature to contort yourself to fit into boxes.

Despite your best efforts, you did unfortunately catch the attention of one person in particular. King of Hawkins High- the infamous Steve Harrington with his infuriating hair.

You were blessed with the misfortune of having to sit behind him in study hall. He would turn around and pester you constantly. He seemed to enjoy making you uncomfortable and even though you would ignore him, it seemed to just incite him to tease you more.

He’d sit in his chair backwards and cross his arms to rest them over the top. He’d rest his chin on his arms and stare at you, or watch your hands as you worked on your homework. He’d annoy you with stupid questions, or take your pens.

“What kind of movies do you like?” he’d ask, out of the blue after an annoying amount of staring you’d effectively ignore.

“I don’t know,” you answer, without looking up. You’d offer a shrug and then just move on to the next math problem.

“They’re playing the Star Wars movies at the drive-in,” he volunteers and you love Star Wars. However, you can’t bring yourself to say anything. He’s baiting you. And you refuse to bite.

He eventually got the hint and let you be. He slowly turned around and focused his attention on the clock at the front of the classroom.

It was the worst type of teasing, the faking interest- the attempts to make you think he’d be legitimately interested. You knew the outcome already; you’d seen that teen movie and you refuse to be the victim in that cruel game.

He’d wait at your locker and you’d turn the other way when you saw him in the distance. He’d lean against your locker, looking around expectantly for Tommy and Carol, you’d assume, to see if they were watching. You’d wait until the bell rang and risk being late to class before walking up to him at your locker.

When you would get there before him, he’d come out of nowhere. He’d sneak up on you and lean on the locker next to yours. He’d smile with that signature look of his and you refused to let yourself acknowledge how great it was. Your heart would tug, wishing it was real if you let yourself dwell on it.

“You don’t like me,” he’d smirk, like he was trying to break some code to you. “We should really go out and talk about it.”

You’d be in the cafeteria lunchline, moving through the stations with your tray. Steve would cut-in next to you. Everyone loved him so no one cared when he’d cut the lunch line. He’d slide in close to you, and you’d ignore the way his cologne always smelled so good.

“So the lasagna, huh?” he’d smile, looking at the contents on your tray. “Do you like Italian?”

“It’s fine,” you grumble, moving down the line.

“You ever been to Enzo’s?” he asks and you realize he doesn’t even have his own tray. He’s just here to mess with you. “They have really good lasagna. We should go.”

You get to the register to pay and Steve beats you to it, offering a few bills to the lunch lady. “It’s on me, sweetheart,” he flirted, and you just walked away.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve Harrington was pathetically in love with you. Past the suave and charming exterior and his overcompensation of unfound confidence, Steve had been pining after you since the summer you moved to Hawkins, right before 10th grade. He thought you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. He thought your shyness was endearing and he liked that he seemed to make you nervous- because maybe that meant you felt the same way about him. After a year of rejection, Steve finally decided to leave you alone because you made it clear you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

Steve didn’t realize how he was coming across to you. He’d never had to think about things like you had. At school and amongst his peers, he didn’t need to have his guard up all the time like you felt you needed. His experiences with social interactions didn’t prepare him for the way you reacted to his advances. He was used to adoration and popularity, he didn’t face rejection. Both of you, with completely opposite experiences, couldn’t figure out or make sense of the other. You shrouded in your defences and Steve was stung for the first time.

Like a cliche, you’re back in your parents’ town for Christmas and New Years. It’s been a few years since you’d been back for longer than a weekend stay. Now, you’ve managed to get enough time off approved that you arrived before Christmas and will leave shortly after New Years. So far, you've done an excellent job avoiding anyone from school. You had friends you wanted to see, of course. But you skillfully avoided any chance encounter by dodging the errands your mom attempted to pass off to you.

Your luck had run out when she pulled you aside and told you to go out and get a few movies for you and your parents to watch together. Which is how you ended up at Family Video on a random Thursday and ending up face to face with Steve Harrington.

When you walked in, you immediately saw him at the counter and the two of you made eye contact for maybe a couple of seconds before you averted your eyes and headed down one of the aisles. It’s fine, you rationalize as you pretend to look at the cases, high school is far enough behind us that he won’t remember me at all.

It was only a few minutes before your grand entrance back into his world that Steve was complaining to Robin about his nonexistent dating life. Robin does her best to help him out of the slump he seems to have found himself in lately, but he can’t seem to ever feel like his old self. When you walked in, he couldn’t even believe his eyes. But just like before, you immediately dodge him.

“Oh shit,” Robin smiles, immediately recognizing you. “Hey!” She saunters over and Steve watches from the front counter. He watches the way seeing Robin has brought a huge smile to your face.

“Oh my god, Robin!” You exclaim happily, pulling her in for a hug. Out of the many people who went to Hawkins High, Robin is probably one of the only people you’d be happy running into.

The two of you talk and catch up, and Steve stares at the computer screen pretending to keep busy while simultaneously attempting to eavesdrop on your conversation. He straightens his posture when he sees Robin bringing you up to the register. He doesn’t acknowledge you as Robin checks out your movies.

“Don’t forget, 7- okay?” Robin says with a wave when you leave. The bell rings and then Steve turns to look at Robin expectantly. “What?” she asks, scrunching her nose at him in annoyance.

“Did you fucking invite her to New Years Eve?” he asks incredulously. She nods.

“Uh yeah- she’s my friend, I figured you’d be fine with that,” she responds, but raises an eyebrow, “Did I do something wrong?”

“Do you remember when I told you about that girl I liked in the tenth grade-”

“Holy shit!” Robin exclaims, spinning around on the stool she sat on. “That’s insane,” she continues, “She was like the only cool person in my lab- we talked all the time.”

“She hated me, probably still does,” he shrugged, and Robin rolled her eyes.

“You were a douchebag,” Robin reasons.

“Not to her!” Steve insisted. “I asked her out like a thousand times- I really liked her. I wasn’t a douche… I don’t think.”

“You had a reputation Steve,” Robin points out, “Even if you didn’t necessarily do anything to her specifically, Tommy or Carol might have. Or, she just knew you were a grade-A asshole and was steering clear. You’re much better now.”

“Gee, thanks for that enlightening assessment,” he grumbles, sarcastically.

“At least if she shows up to the party, you can ask her,” Robin suggests, stealing a box of movie candy from one of the shelves, “Just clear the air so you can move on, you know? Get some closure, cause clearly you’re not over it.”

Had you realized that you were attending a New Years Eve party at Steve’s house, of course you wouldn’t have gone. No one greeted you at the door, it was just left unlocked for everyone to come and go as they pleased.

People filled the hallway, chatting amongst themselves or dancing to the loud music that was coming from the living room. You couldn’t hear yourself think, and you just wanted a minute to compose yourself before venturing too far into the crowd.

You navigated down the front hall, having to squeeze and push past people, and found yourself in the kitchen, and just your luck, the only person there was Steve. You hoped to immediately leave before he noticed you.

“Wait,” he pleaded, when you turned to walk out, “please, can we talk?”

You pause, and turn back to him.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He asks, and he sounds broken.

“You have a lot of fucking nerve Harrington,” you say. “You were so mean to me all the time and you have the audacity to play the victim?”

“How was I mean?” He asks and you scoff because he sounds so genuinely confused.

“You know, don’t play fucking stupid.”

“I’m not! Look I understand if I made you uncomfortable,” he explains, “I probably should’ve taken the hint that you weren’t interested and I just kept perusing it- but I thought it was a thing. I was wrong.”

“What do you mean take a hint?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion. Steve looks at you, completely dumbfounded that you seem to have no idea what he’s talking about.

“You clearly didn’t like me back,” he explains, like it’s obvious. “I wouldn’t take the hint, and I kept asking you out and it made you upset. I just thought- I thought you and I had like a little back and forth thing. I realized way too late that I was wrong.”

“Do you seriously think I’m that stupid?” You ask, your tone is incredibly harsh. “You don’t get to flip the story around to save face. You’re a terrible person Steve. It’s not fair to mess with someone’s feelings like that.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “please just explain to me what I did wrong so we can work through it.”

“Don’t pretend like you weren’t just messing with me to make fun of me,” you snap, your voice beginning to tremble.

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks softly, walking towards you and for once you let him.

“I knew the whole time Steve,” you mumble, looking at the ground. “I know you weren’t actually flirting with me or asking me out all those times. I know it was a joke.”

“None of it was a joke,” he admits. “I liked you a lot. So I would try to ask you out and you’d never talk to me. I thought maybe you were shy and nervous because you liked me back so I just kept the bit going- I’m sorry. I clearly was a dick who made you uncomfortable.”

“Wait,” you say, thinking back on as many of the interactions as you can remember. “You were actually asking me out?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Steve counters.

You’re actually rendered speechless. You’re overwhelmed with this new information and you can’t actually bring yourself to fully believe him. There’s no way, you reason, there’s absolutely no way that Steve would’ve been interested in you.

“I mean come on,” Steve continues when you say nothing, “look at you.”

“You’re doing it again,” you respond, defeatedly.

“I’ve wanted you since we were like 15,” Steve confesses. “Fuck, I literally remember the first time I fucking saw you. Do you even remember that?”

He moves away and goes to lean against the kitchen counters behind him. He crosses his arms and looks down on the floor, kicking at nothing. You don’t know how to react to this confession. It felt like for once, you were seeing the real Steve. The one he’d been trying to show you forever but didn’t know how. And your guard had been up the whole time anyways.

“This is so stupid,” he scoffs at himself, as he remembers the day and puts himself back in the shoes of his love sick teenage self. “Summer right before tenth grade. July 8th.”

“You had just moved here and it was at the pool,” Steve continues. “You had on this black bathing suit… literally couldn’t keep it together. I couldn’t focus on literally anything else.”

You remember the day, but you don’t remember Steve being there at all. You remember feeling awkward in your suit, worried people were judging you. You almost didn’t swim, too self conscious- so you ended up sunbathing for a long while before the heat became too unbearable and you needed to jump in. You didn’t even know Steve had been there.

“I was too nervous to say anything,” he admits, “so I didn’t go up to you that day and I regretted it. I thought about you the whole rest of the summer. I thought maybe you were like visiting family or something and I’d never see you again… but when you showed up in my class, I had to just go for it. I’m sorry I didn’t just let it go.”

“But you dated Nancy… and went out with girls like Brenda and Laurie. Why would someone like you- fucking King Steve- want anything to do with a girl who looks like me?” you ask, almost sarcastically. Your walls of defense creep up again, lulling you back to safety.

Steve is finally sick of this nonsense. He’s done with dancing around the subject. He’s still in love with you, and it’s growing unbearable being in the same space as you if he can’t be near you. It’s taking over all of his senses, everything about it just consumes him whole. He can’t understand why you can’t just see how wrecked you’ve made him.

He strides over to you and cups your face in his hands. You tilt your head up to him in surprise at his gesture. Yet, you don’t pull away. He sighs, it’s a relief to even touch you as simply as this. The soft skin of your cheeks against the pads of his fingertips is enough to ground him just enough that he doesn’t spiral. He takes in a sharp breath once he realizes how close you are like this. The reaction he has to you makes you dizzy and goosebumps rise on your skin.

You don’t know who leaned in first- don’t know who started it. It was like your mind was completely white static and then you realized you and Steve were kissing. It wasn’t anything like the way you’ve ever been kissed before. It made all your senses fuzzy and your body melt into him. He couldn’t help but smile against your pretty lips when you pulled yourself closer to him. It’s all he’s wanted.

Your hands grasp tightly to the front of his tshirt, and you feel his arms wrap around your waist. His hands land on the small of your back and it feels like the skin under his touch is on fire even if it is over the material of your top. You gasp against his lips when his hands slide down to rest in the back pockets of your jeans and he pulls you even closer than before. He leans against the counter and he pulls you flush against him. Instinctively, your arms wrap around his neck. Your hands play with the ends of his hair at his neck and he moans so prettily.

“Fuck, fuck sweetheart,” he gasps, reluctantly pulling away. You pout, and all he can think looking at you with your big eyes and swollen lips that he’s so royally fucked. “I wanna talk about this.”

You nod, catching your breath, and you don’t miss how his eyes flicker to watch the rise and fall of your chest. You bite your lip to hold back a smile that’s risking to spill out. “Shit,” he sighs, finding your eyes, “I think I’m still in love with you.”

His hands are still planted firmly in your back pockets. You match his stance, trailing your hands across his slender waist and then settle them into the back pockets of his jeans. You watch as his cheeks turn bright red and the blush blossoms across the length of his neck. He’s so sweet like this, you can’t help but think to yourself.

“Oh yeah?” You tease flirtatiously. He’s convinced you could probably see his heart beating rapidly out of his chest. He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobs and you can’t help but smirk. Newfound confidence swells up through you, finally seeing the way you affect him.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #x plus size reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x plus size reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x female reader #plus size reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fan fiction #stanger things fan fiction #stranger things #steve harrington x reader fluff

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duckysprouts · 1 year ago

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can i have teenage dirtbag dick grayson hcs pls?? my parents are getting divorced i want to relate to him

in high school, dick was… interesting

1. he went to a prestigious private school with uniforms and never wore it properly. sometimes he would wear his gymnastics jacket over the summer dress shirt to hide the bruises and bandages that would peek through when he sweats. other times he would lie and say it was a sports accident

2. always red eyes. could have been weed, insomnia, or his daily breakdown in the bathroom

3. literally never shows up on time and comes up with increasingly wild excuses for why. still the top of the class

4. dyed his hair and wore jewellery even tho it was against code. they still let him keep it cause he was captain of the mathletes team and they couldn’t afford to lose him to win nationals

5. carries a pot and portable stove in his bag so he can make hangover ramen in class

6. hands always had bandages and sports tape

7. they made him get rid of his sneakers and wear dress shoes, so he started wearing weird socks instead. the worst was when he wore the grippy socks he stole from the mental health center

8. would pick up jason from book club and scare the shit out of everyone

9. got into fights a LOT. bruce sent a lot of gift baskets to the rich parents of the kids. but he secretly thought dick was in the right so all the gifts consisted of things he knew the family hated or were allergic to

10. regulated inconsistently between “energetic popular guy who is witty and fun to be around” and “dead inside” many times throughout the day

11. once borrowed a wax pen thinking it was a vape and was SO high for a geology exam that he resorted to licking the rock samples to identify them. he got a 98% on it, 2% off for spelling his name wrong

12. once stabbed himself with an epipen to stay awake long enough to study, nearly pissed himself

13. set the back of his hair on fire during patrol in sophomore year and had a reverse mullet for a few months (see picture)

#sorry about the divorce #art #fanart #dick grayson #nightwing #batman #dc #asks

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interact-if · 4 months ago

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Our fourth edition of the Black History Month Author Spotlight series, features Becky (@losergames)!

(I’ve been in awe of Becky’s multi-talents (art, writing, coding, excuse me??) for a long time now, and am super excited to get to interview her and introduce her awesome game, Chop Shop! The portion on morality and finding a middle-ground between harmful stereotypes of “bad” POC characters and angelic, one-dimensional ones who can do no wrong was a really interesting and insightful take.)

Author: Becky

Hello hello!!! I’m Becky! I am a black bisexual woman from the UK, lover of games, TV and food. I have a Bachelor's degree in Animation & Visual Effects and currently work as a technician at a college 😁

Games: Chop Shop (crime, action, LGBTQ+, meaningful choices)

Short blurb: A crime action interactive fiction game.

Quote from the interview

There are a few main themes I keep in mind about when writing Chop Shop but the big one I think everyone understands is morality. What is right and wrong, and the various shades of grey in between, has been written about a thousand times in a thousand ways but it is continuously interesting to me in a changing world. What does it mean to be a bad person doing good things and a good person doing bad things? Is there a chance for redemption? What are the consequences? Race and class are also massive factors, made all the more complicated when we’re looking at sets of characters on either side of the PC’s life. I want to write black and other characters of colour make bad, questionable, and unredeemable decisions whilst also remaining aware of stereotypes and archetypes. I want them to be loud, messy, and rude, attributes that are always attached to minorities, but I also want them to be smart, calculating, and deceptive. I think a lot of people are scared to do so and we end up with plain, can-do-no-wrongers that lack any depth.

Read on for the full interview!

Can you tell me a bit about what you’re working on right now and your journey into interactive fiction? What inspired the game/story you’re currently writing?

I am currently working on the crime action interactive fiction Chop Shop. There are a mix of inspirations that went into Chop Shop but above all else I’d say the kicker was my circumstances at the time.

During covid I walked away from the WORST job I’ve ever had and moved back home, which I realised a while after was an extremely huge blessing. I had a major burnout and was processing what my ex-managers had put me and my colleagues through. So, in my freetime I was playing a lot of cyoa/ romance games (shoutout Love Island the game) and found a whole fandom that also enjoyed them.

I made some friends, did art commissions, and wrote some fanfic here and there, yadda yadda. A close friend recommended I try out a very popular COG game at the time (🧛) and it all spiraled from there. I fell in love with the format, endless creativity, and community and never looked back.

I loved the Need For Speed games as a kid, the og Most Wanted, Carbon, and Underground 2 are, in my eyes, amongst the masterpieces of games from the 2000s. It got to the point I was going over to friends houses just to play on their PS2 lmao. I am also a Fast and Furious fiend (shock) and I will defend that god awful series till I die. Fast forward to being a teenager/ young adult I’ve become a massive fan of fictional crime shows. Breaking Bad will always be my first love, but I also love The Sopranos, Fargo, The Wire and more.

How has your identity, heritage/background, upbringing, or personal experiences influenced your storytelling or writing process? OR How does your work feature aspects of your identity / experience?

The real catalyst for Chop Shop was my previous job. A lot of the PC’s experiences are based off my own. A few examples I love sharing are how I had to make breakfast for my boss every morning and had to keep the office freezer stocked with a specific supermarket ice lolly because he ‘needed’ one every day at 3pm. I truly wish I was making this up because people think I’m crazy when I tell them. But I really was catering to a man-child because I was desperately trying to get my foot into a creative industry. Woof!!!

That said, the industry I wanted to work in was and still is extremely competitive. I came out of uni with a tonne of friends, but also a tonne of competition. It stung very badly to see my peers excel and surpass me when it came to careers but that’s just a part of becoming an adult. That life really was not for me and I’m glad I’m out of it now.

My mother is an extremely influential person in my life. Bits and pieces of her stick with me, not just in my writing but my every day. She’s worked in corporate all her life, from the early 80s and still to this day. She laughs about it now but she tells stories about the times she was laughed out of meetings or undermined by subordinates because she was a black woman in positions that were not occupied by minorities. It hurts to think about but I can only dream of having the type of strength she does.

Now that I think about it, Chop Shop is a massive fuck you to the past.

Are there any specific themes or messages you hope players take away from your work?

Race and class are also massive factors, made all the more complicated when we’re looking at sets of characters on either side of the PC’s life. I want to write black and other characters of colour make bad, questionable, and unredeemable decisions whilst also remaining aware of stereotypes and archetypes. I want them to be loud, messy, and rude, attributes that are always attached to minorities, but I also want them to be smart, calculating, and deceptive. I think a lot of people are scared to do so and we end up with plain, can-do-no-wrongers that lack any depth.

What does your writing process look like? Any rituals or habits? Any tips, tricks, philosophies or approaches that have worked very well for you?

I write way better outside of my bedroom. I know writing is supposed to be fun and a hobby but sometimes it’s… not. If I get stressed out in my room, it’s all a mess. The brain needs to be away from where I sleep to get work done. Last summer, when all the teachers were on holiday time, I was the only one in my department for weeks and it was the best writing stint I ever had haha.

Oh and I keep a huge spreadsheet. All the episode breakdowns, outlines, character details etc. It looks insane to anyone else but it is my prized baby.

Do you have favourite interactive fiction games, characters, scenes or authors that you’d like to recommend?

My goto game rec is always 180 Files: The Aegis Project. So quick and punchy, more narrative/plot than romance focused. The action sequences are fun and the interactions are so delicious, ugh. I love it. I’ve played it at least 20 times to get the different endings and it’s never not satisfying, just… chefs kiss. I’m also really enjoying Thicker Than right now AAHHH I NEED TO CATCH UP!!!

Any books, music, movies etc. you’re obsessed with at the moment, or which changed your life (or perspectives on something)?

Not anything specific but I do have some books I’d like to recommend to my fellow black readers:

The Psychosis of Whiteness: Surviving the Insanity of a Racist World by Nicola Rollock

Black Skin, White Masks by Franz Fanon

The Strangers: Five Extraordinary Black Men and the Worlds That Made Them by Ekow Eshun

Black England: A Forgotten Georgian History by Gretchen Gerzina

The Hard Road To Renewal by Stuart Hall

Honestly I’d recommend anything by Stuart Hall lmao. RIP king, you would be shocked at the media literacy today.

This-or-that segment: (bold = Becky's pick)

Coffee or tea?

Early mornings or late nights?

City or countryside?

Angsty or Cozy romances? (Or enemies-to-lovers or best-friends-to-lovers?)

Steady progress or frenzied binge-writing followed by periods of calm?

Summer or Winter?

First drafts or editing?

Introvert or extrovert?

Plotter or pantser?

Characters or plot first?

Becky’s custom “either-or” pairing: Driver or passenger?

#chop shop if #interactive fiction #if #author spotlight #black history month #interview feature #interact-if

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luxiomahariel · 1 month ago

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Growing up as a 'girl' was a weird thing for me. I was either told I was a 'total daddy's girl' or 'completely unladylike' for my behavior and interests that were considered 'masculine'. I never felt any attachment to gender until around puberty where it became very complicated.

When I got my period I was told 'congratulations! you're a woman now!' by my sister. I remember being very distressed and thinking 'I can't be a woman yet, I'm only 12' and 'I don't want to be a woman at all'.

I remember starting to learn about feminism (more than just the suface-level girl-power lessons my sister gave me as a kid) and deciding 'I can define my own womanhood!' over the summer before middle school. I just acted like myself. This did not work out for me. My combined masculine-coded behaviors and presenting with hyperandrogenism did not bode well. I internalized a lot of the misogyny that I was facing and started hyperfeminizing myself at 12/13. Despite all of my best efforts on 'fixing' my natural masculine physical traits (deep voice, thicker body hair, facial hair, stocky build, and easily gained muscle), I would still get harrassment from boys and girls in my class. I vividly remember being asked on my way to the bathroom if I was 'really a guy under there'. I remember hearing a lot of trans women talk about their experiences and relating more to them than cis women, just with the added feeling of not wanting to be a woman. I had to fight for the right to be seen as a woman when I did not want to be one.

I looked to feminism for answers as to what I was feeling. I was a girl but I didn't feel like one nor did I want to grow up into a woman or 'adult girl'. I discovered the terms trans man and nonbinary for the first time. This was in 2017/2018 during the transmedicalist craze and the Rowling TERF outing (or her being more TERFy on main). I internalized the ideas of 'in order to be a trans man, you must hate womanhood', 'you must automatically know your gender and if you don't you aren't actually trans', 'if you don't like something feminine-coded, you have internalized misogyny', and 'if you transition, you're a gender traitor'.

In 2020, I started breaking down a lot of those ideas and dropped the performance of hyperfemininity because I realized it was making me miserable. I also starting embracing my masculine physical traits. I came to the conclusion surrounding my gender that I am an agender trans man. Agender because of my experiences of gender apathy as a child and a trans man because masculine presentation and gender feels the most natural to me as an adult (or teen, at the time).

It wasn't until this year - at 20 years old - that I found out that I'm intersex. My whole life I felt like I was constantly failing at being female when I never was one. I was never a woman either because I figured out I am a trans man as a teenager. I am a 'gender traitor' to a gender that I didn't belong to in the first place. I was given a label that didn't not fit. Sure, I was AFAB, but I'm not female. I am intersex. Intersex intersex intersex. It feels so good to say. Calling myself and agender intersex trans man feels like one of the most joyous things in the world.

Weirdly enough, I also know what it's like for my feminist ideology to only surround trans women in terms of gender-diverse people. I didn't know that trans men and nonbinary people existed for a few years into researching feminism. The only thing is, unlike many feminist women, I could not ignore the marginalization of trans men/mascs and nonbinary people because I face that marginalization myself. I can't ignore intersexism for the same reasons. You're gonna wanna talk about your problems when you're going through them and it's not a moral failing to ask for basic respect, empathy, and kindness.

#transandrophobia #transandromisia #interphobia #intersexism #intermisia

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midnightshindig · 3 months ago

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I know you have a lot of requests so I feel bad about adding another request to the pile so feel free to ignore this if you're too busy but how about Cecil and delinquent!kid reader? (Like the kid is Cecil's kid). Like the kid gets into fights at school, skips class, spray paints buildings. Like classic teenage rebellion stuff.

Cecil is such a hardass I want him to him a delinquent kid. I'm leaning towards Cecil and the kid having a good/ok relationship and they're acting out to have fun but you take the request in whatever way you see fit! (If you don't want to do Cecil/don't know what to write about, how about Donald instead? Or anyone else you think would be funny to give a delinquent kid/little sibling.)

Cecil & Delinquent!Child!Reader

probably not going to do too many more of this genre of Cecil request, but I like the idea of a lovingly rebellious teenage child reader

hcs under the cut!

You and your dad had a pretty good relationship

Don't get me wrong

he's BUSY

but he shows up when it counts

You know a lot of the things your dad should be at, some GDA intern shows up to instead

but there's the intent, and they always come with a personalized message from Cecil.

He wasn't there to get photos of you in your prom outfit with your group/date, but he made sure there were plenty of photos being taken

All in all, things weren't bad, you had dinner whenever he could spare an hour or so, and sometimes, in the super chill months, Cecil would even take you to things like the movies

and you'd always been a good kid

A/B student, a "pleasure to have in class", a bit of a backtalker but it came from a place of curiosity and a natural born sense of leadership

if the worst he got from you was the occasional sass when you asked a teacher why you had to ask to use the restroom, that was alright with him

What WASN'T alright with him, was the first day of your junior year of high school

he'd been called to the office and assured this wasn't something that could happen over the phone

Not even the GDA can sway the power a public school front office lady possesses.

So there he is, in some public high school's principals office, with his crisp grey suit crunching into the plastic of the underfunded office chair he sat on

"Mr. Stedman, your child was... distracting in class today, to say the least. A blatant violation of the dress code-"

Cecil cut him off, a sharp bitterness in his voice "You called me here because my child was wearing the wrong clothes? Really?"

The principal coughed "Well- Y/n responded to their disciplinary waring with extreme hostility, calling the teacher an-" he checked the papers in front of him before cautiously reciting "'ornery fucking prude' were their exact words."

Cecil's eye twitched "Where are they, then? What was so bad that they had to be disciplined in the first place?" his waning patience was obvious.

The principal responded by using his telephone to call the front office "Send Y/n Stedman in."

You were wearing a tanktop. Not a low cut or particularly inappropriate tank top, mind you, a regular cut two-finger strapped tank top. God. Forbid.

Cecil was furious with your Principal and took you home immediately

"What a prude-" Cecil stated decidedly, ranting about the insanity of it on the car ride home.

You just had poor administration.

Or so he thought

Two months later Cecil got reports that you were being driven home in a cop car

He supposed he couldn't really be surprised, after all, in the last two months you'd already exceeded the normal limit on missed days, Cecil having to pull the government card to keep you enrolled

He teleported home right as the cop knocked on the door

"Hello officer, how can I help you?" he levelled a glare at you: what have you been getting into?

Your eyes responded with a roll: nothing, get off my back

the officer was blissfully unaware "Uh, sir, we caught your kid here spray painting the CVS down on Dupont Circle.

"....spray painting?" Cecil's tone was genuinely confused

of all the things?

"Yes sir, spray painting. Nothing obscene, seems just like tagging, but criminal nonetheless." The cop gently released his grip on your arm, allowing you to step inside your home "The manager of the building has decided not to press charges, but they are expected to clean the building. Please get in contact at your earliest convenience."

With a tip of his hat, the cop left

leaving Cecil with his newly convicted child

"Really, Y/n? Petty vandalism?"

You scoffed "Dad, it was just art! I wasn't doing anything wrong, this whole city is covered in graffiti-"

He groaned "It isn't just the 'art'-" he mocked you with finger quotations "It's the skipping, the blatant disrespect to your teachers, god... Y/n next thing you know I'm going to find you in cahoots with the Mauler Twins on national television!"

You folded your arms, lowering a glare at him "That's low, even for me."

"Ugh-" Cecil flopped defeatedly into the dining room chair across from you "Why are you doing this?" his frustration broke into defeat "What's going on, kiddo?"

Your eyes warbled back and forth as you stared at him for what felt like forever

before you let out probably the biggest, most pent up sigh of your life

and you laid your head on the table unceremoniously

"I don't know, Dad. It's not like I'm trying to get into trouble." You looked askance, your face pressed into the hardwood of the table

"I just want to have some fun, wear what I want, and be a normal teenager that does normal teen rebellion stuff."

Cecil could empathize with this, but conversely:

"And normal teenagers get in trouble when they do normal teenager stuff, Y/n. Like right now." He gapped the distance between the two of you, resting a fatherly hand on your shoulder

"I love you, kiddo, and getting in trouble for breaking some flimsy dress code is one thing, but you gotta keep it within the law. I can't protect you when you do dumb stuff like this."

"I know..." you mumbled, not wanting to meet his eyes

Cecil sat next to you, pulling his chair over "Look, you and me are gonna disagree on a lot. and that's fine, we don't have to agree on dating or clothes or anything. But on stuff like this, you have to trust me. You're my child and I want you to have fun in high school, but I also want you to graduate and get OUT of high school."

his words broke through to you a little, and the guilt of being sent home by the cops crept up through your spine, spreading through your nerves until you felt nauseous

"I'm sorry, Dad....."

Cecil's expression softened, his eyebrows raising and his eyes widening "It's okay, kiddo. Just do your best, that's all I ask of you."

He pulled you into a brief hug, before letting you go

You returned the gesture by pulling him into a tighter hug, your arms wrapped around his waist

#invincible #invincible show #invincible season 3 #invincible fanfic #invincible spoilers #invincible x reader #cecil stedman #cecil invincible #invincible cecil #cecil headcanons #cecil & reader #cecil stedman & reader #cecil stedman headcanons #this one hits close to home lmao #iykyk #hahaha #eugh....#ow my childhood trauma #ow my... my young adulthood actually

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youhavethewrong · 2 months ago

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Yuiviews: The Too Kyo Games Library

After ending the Danganronpa series in what is basically rebellion against over-sequelization, writer Kazutaka Kodaka, artist Rui Komatsuzaki, and composer Masafumi Takada left the apparently horrible to work at company Spike Chunksoft to join the writer of the Zero Escape series Kotaro Uchikoshi and form their own small studio: Too Kyo Games. Throughout the years, they've kept a consistent output of creative and unique mystery and action games and stories. But in spite of how good they are, a lot of them have flown under the radar, as people in general aren't really aware of Too Kyo Games existing. So, to hopefully rectify that a little bit, I come to you with a list of the things they've made so you can see if any of them strike your fancy!

1. Master Detective Archives: Rain Code

Okay this one was still published under Spike Chunksoft, but the developers are still Too Kyo games so hear me out.

Amnesiac detective Yuma Kokohead is called to Kanai Ward, a city of neverending rain shrouded in mystery. In a place where the truth is hidden by a mega corporation, it is his duty to join a group of world-class detectives with special talents in solving the many murder cases that seem to be around every corner. He is accompanied in his journey by Shinigami, the god of death, who has the power to take him to the Mystery Labyrinths - bizarre construction where finding the exit equals reaching the truth.

The gameplay consists of 3d exploration in the city of Kanai Ward, along with action minigames and puzzles whose solutions lead to figuring out the whodunnit and howdunnit of each case!

A highlight of the game for me is the character of Shinigami, who adds a very macabre vibe to the murder mysteries by making inappropriate jokes and enjoying the whole thing a bit way too much. This game is like Detective Conan for insane people, and I loved it dearly, so I don't know if that's a good thing about myself.

(Probably not)

The game's available on Xbox, PS5, Nintendo Switch, and Steam. As of the time of this writing, the Steam version is on discount.

2. Akudama Drive

Not in the mood for games? No worries, here's an anime!

Taking place in a dystopian futuristic version of Kansai, Akudama Drive sees a society that labels particularly dangerous criminals as "Akudama", and heavily persecutes and punishes them for their transgressions. In this society, a regular girl is accidentally roped into a 6 Akudama master plan to perform an Ocean's 11-type heist by a mysterious mastermind.

(One of the characters in this image is the mastermind, and it's not the girl)

One big highlight of the show for me is the animation. Komatsuzaki's art and designs feel particularly difficult to bring to motion in 2d, but this show pulls it off really well with some clever lightning and other stylization techniques. Also, the show has a theme of how society deals with what it deems "undesirable", which resonates a lot with me.

(...for no reason in particular)

The show's available in Crunchyroll and perhaps some other sites too idk.

3. World's End Club

Not in the mood for a game or an anime? Well, how about something in between!

This game tells the story of the Go-Getters club, a club of kids who, during a field trip, experience the end of the world. There's very little I can say about this title's premise without giving most of it away, so instead I'll focus on the atmosphere it creates.

Since this game deals with young children rather than adults or even teenagers, the story is a loooot lighter than other Too Kyo Games projects. It is really lighthearted and even adorable at times. I'm particularly fond of this one scene where the main cast rides this ridiculous 12 person tandem bike while singing a little song.

However, don't let the lighter atmosphere and Take's cute designs fool you. There's still intrigue, heartache, and plot twists that will leave your mouth agape. After playing so many games by the same writers, I thought I was ready for anything that they could throw at me. This game proved me wrong.

(This and more philosophical debates await you in this title!)

Still, World's End Club is a much more relaxing time than the other games on this list. What I think most people would consider its biggest downside is how light it is in terms of gameplay. It's about 80% cutscenes, 20% gameplay. And the gameplay that is there is just extremely basic 2d puzzle sections. However, I don't think this is an objective negative. Me personally, I just see it as an extremely fun interactive story, rather than a game. When I sit down to play it, I think to myself "okay, time to see what happens next", rather than "time to push myself to overcome some difficult platforming challenges", this isn't Pizza Tower. So if you go into it knowing how light the gameplay is, I think it's an extremely delightful experience.

(I haven't beaten it yet, but it has already pulled like 5 plot twists on me, so I'm expecting about... 15 more)

World's End Club is available on Nintendo Switch, iOS, and Steam.

4. Tribe Nine (The Anime)

What's that? Youre in the mood for both a game and an anime? Weirdly specific request. And Tribe Nine is more than prepared to grant it to you!

Tribe Nine (the anime) takes place in an alternate world where (recently christened) Neo Tokyo has been broken into turfs, controlled by groups of people called "Tribes". Each tribe decides which turf is whose by way of Extreme Baseball, or XB - a version of baseball where the field is entire towns, and beating the crap out of each other is both allowed and encouraged.

(Only if you're holding the ball though, they're not monsters)

Although I know this is a recommendation, I gotta be honest and admit that the animation's not the best most of the time, and some character designs leave a lot to be desired. That being said, it is undoubtedly a unique, entertaining experience. The characters are fun, the story gets really intense when it means to, and it never gets to the point of being too self-aware. Yes, I'm counting that as a positive. I want to see some stories that take themselves seriously once in a while, dang it. Yes, that guy hit a baseball so hard it broke the Tokyo Tower's tip off. Yes, it's extremely stupid. But consider: who gives a shit, it's rad.

(There's also 4 identical-looking guys all voiced by the same VA. Call that a cost-cutting measure if you will, I'll call it hilarious)

The whole anime's for free on Youtube, with English Subtitles. So you don't even need a Crunchyroll account, you can watch it right now if you want! The playlist's not in order and it's got some weird edits to add ads for the music, but eh. Other options are available if need be.

5. Tribe Nine (The Game)

"Okay, so remember that anime that we made a couple years ago that very few people watched and had practically 0 cultural impact? I've got an idea: let's dial the extreme factor to 1,000, redesign all the characters, make new ones, and release its sequel as one of the best god damned free games people can play".

If that's not how Tribe Nine (The Game) came to be, I've no clue what the circumstances might've been.

Tribe Nine (The Game) may be a sequel to the anime, but it takes place in a world that's very different from what we see in Episode 12. A new threat, Zero, has emerged and taken control of the country. His extreme technological prowess and orbital lasers are as ridiculous as they are deadly, and he's in the perfect position to force the group of rebels that's risen to defeat him into a series of extreme games of strategy and deception.

XB still has its place of course: in the form of action debates that shift the balance of power in each territory.

(Okay I know what you're thinking: "Action Debates? Isn't that the Danganronpa thing?" Well, no. You see, this one's baseball.)

Tribe Nine's biggest downside is that it's a gacha game. And if that's something that deters you from it, I completely understand. However, if you're still willing to give it a chance, I cannot recommend it enough. The game is filled to the brim with content, the action RPG gameplay is extremely fun to master, and as of now can be played start to finish while completely ignoring the gacha aspect, as it just offers additional content, not necessary content. It might as well be a full AAA game that you get for free, because that's exactly what it feels like.

("Look I know every other apple in this basket is poison, but trust me, this one's juicy af and it tast- why are you looking at me like that")

Tribe Nine is available on Android, iOS, and Steam.

6. The Hundred Line - Last Defense Academy

Okay, I'm not gonna sugarcoat it: This game is just straight up better Danganronpa

(Put the gun down put thE GUN DOWN I CAN EXPLAIN!!)

THL-LDA takes place in a world where humanity lives in underground domes, and regular attacks from unknown entities are a daily thing. One day our protagonist, Takumi Sumino, is kidnapped by a weird little... egg guy called Sirei, and made to stay 100 days inside a fortified academy. He and other people around his age are then forced to defend "something important" inside the school from invaders, by becoming pseudo-soldiers that use Hemoanima, special weapons that give them Kill la Kill-style uniforms that transform with their blood to enhance their powers and allow them to fight back.

(If this game isn't at least partly inspired by Kill la Kill, I'll assume that using your blood to get a super-powered school uniform is a daily occurrence in Japan)

The gameplay itself is divided in the expected vn sections (complete with minigames and side activities!), and the "defense" sections, where it plays like a really good Tactics game.

I'm usually not one to get too deep into Tactics games (I've tried FF Tactics, Disgaea, and Fire Emblem and sucked at all of them), but this one really pulled me in with how much freedom of choice you get, and how seamlessly it blends story and gameplay. For example, instead of getting a couple moves per unit, you get a certain number of Action Points per turn that you can distribute however you want. You can either move all units once or one unit 6 times. Certain actions will give you more Action Points, so good strategy and thinking ahead can lead to long combos that really punish the enemy.

(Pictured above: Gameplay instructions)

With 100 different endings and 500+ CGs (holy fuck), this is the most ambitious game Too Kyo games have released yet by far. And as soon as you start, you can really tell how much care went into it. In a way, it really feels like the culmination of everything these developers have worked on up to this point.

The demo is extremely generous too. I personally got 7+ hours of gameplay from it, so you've got a lot of time to see if you like the game or not without committing to spending money on it. By the time I was done with it, I was already so hooked with the story and fond of the characters there was no doubt in my mind I'll buy the full version as soon as the May paycheck hits.

(No points for guessing who my favorite character is)

The full game is currently available on Nintendo Switch and Steam.

Extra - Death Come True

Okay I'll be honest, the only reason this one's an extra and not a proper entry is because I haven't played it yet, so I can't say anything about it other than how interesting it is that it's the only FMV entry in Too Kyo's repertoire. However, it's made by the same people who've already made 11 things I've really liked, soooo... like at some point you gotta start giving artists the benefit of the doubt. I think it's fair to assume this one probably rules too. I'm also buying it with the May paycheck I haven't gotten yet and already spent half of.

(I'm also gonna play it on a discord call with my friends, so we can pick the story together. That's not relevant, but isn't the ability to do that an undervalued feature of FMV games?)

Death Come True is available on Steam, Android, iOS, Xbox One, PS4, PS5, Nintendo Switch, and probably a Smart Fridge if we try hard enough.

Conclusion:

Too Kyo Games is one of my favorite development teams. They have not disappointed me yet, and have given me unique experience after unique experience. Their style of storytelling is unlike anything else I've seen, and every time I check out something made by them, I end up being moved in new ways.

However, they're also currently facing financial difficulty due to none of their projects being breakout hits, or even hits as big as Danganronpa was. I think creativity and effort like this deserves attention, so if any of the entries above peak your interest, make sure to check them out! Especially if you ever fell in love with Danganronpa, as I think that's proof that this team is capable of making things that resonate with you. And after all, the people behind it have kept improving their craft more and more over time, so wouldn't it be fun to give them a chance to give you even more stories that give you new feelings and experiences~? 💖

#yuiviews #master detective archive: raincode #akudama drive #world's end club #tribe nine #hundred line last defense academy #death come true #too kyo games #danganronpa

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storkmuffin · 2 months ago

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i love The Leaders i’m glad you mentioned it! never looked into the lyrics but i love the threatening aura (wooyoung’s whispers are SO COOL i will not rest until they let him do more villainous and evil things)

if you don’t mind, could you share what you think about the korean lyrics? <3

선도부 / The Leaders is the most problematic song for me, and I'm so glad you asked this question. I tend to get haunted by this song, because it's damn catchy and fun and significant bits of it are such earworms and stay with me, but I also find the whole vibe and lyrics so extremely uncomfortable. I'll try to explain but TLDR, I kind of never want to see them perform it or make an MV for it.

I'm using the translation into english available on the Genius.com for 선도부 (The Leaders) as of today's date, April 25, 2025. I also have things to say about how wrong a lot of it is.

Here goes:

Seon-do-bu (선도부) Are Not Your Friends

선도부다 wait wait (yes, sir) /손들어라 wait wait (yeah yeah)

It's the leaders, wait, wait (Yes sir)

Raise your hands, wait, wait (Yeah, yeah)

Starting with the word 선도부, mistranslated as Leaders, there's an immediate problem. I can't think of what exists in the West that is the equivalent but 선도부 (Seon-do-bu) are not leaders in the normal sense of understanding the word in English. Hall Monitor maybe, except those kids were not given the power that seon-do-bu had. They're more like the Iranian morality police portrayed in Persepolis:

youtube

These are not people elected by peers to represent the student body - that's 반장 (class president) or 회장 (student union chairperson). What Seon-do-bu do is they enforce the dress code and rules of student decorum and behavior against other students, because they are empowered to do so by the teachers. They are children who have been delegated adult supervisory powers over other children, and it never works out well, because kids empowered over other kids never works out well.

Oh, to any assholes who have never been to Korea and are about to get racist and weird about the special oppressiveness of Korean society, you can eat shit and die, honestly. Children everywhere are oppressed, and teenagers especially are subjected to dehumanizing, controlling rules in almost every place I've ever heard of.

Anyway. This system of having Seon-do-bu exists because of two legacies:

1) military dictatorship culture, which was a direct legacy of the militaristic terror that Japanese colonialism inflicted on Korea for 30+ years leading to basically the whole society functioning like one giant totalitarian army and the massive population well into the 1990s, and

2) the post Korean war baby boom in South Korea coupled with the new rules for 100% mandatory education for both boys and girls as well as all social strata of persons, which led to absolutely overpopulated schools for a long time. There would be 60 kids to a class, 12 classes per grade, and every school was like this. Given the extremely strict rules for attire (hair can't be longer than however many cms, clothes must have a specific, military-clean fit, no personal accessories, etc etc) it became impossible for teachers to do all this monitoring themselves, and hence they selected children who were especially intimidating to take on the task of being enforcers.

These are not, I repeat, the smartest or most accomplished or popular students. These are the toughest, most rigid ones that enjoy exercising power over others. Some cynical teachers were said to have picked the children most likely to be rule flouters and problems for the teacher and instead made them this quasi-military morality police and unleashed them on other students. By getting to be seon-do-bu, the troublemakers hid (not abstained, but hid) their problematic behaviors from the teachers and therefore made it not the teacher's problem. They instead channeled their aggression and destructive energies on other children instead.

So just imagine, a teenage boy or girl chosen for their ability and desire to tell off other students, wearing a fascist armband (more on the damn armband below), authorized to give everyone who comes to school a once over head to foot to see if they have non-regulation personal jewelry or their hair is too long, giving you that examination every single morning you come to school. EEK!

In fact the word Seon-do-bu created such a negative set of feelings that they started to call it something else: 학생생활지도부 (Student Life Guide Group) or 또래지킴이 (Peer Guardians - as in, these guardians guide their peers away from paths to ruin, I guess). But according to articles I found questioning why we still have this system as of 2018 students still complained of feeling intimidated and afraid when they had to walk by these kids.

In at least one performance, Ateez make it clear that they are the negative image of seondobu that I have, and they like it. The little 'acting bit' that happens right after this intro (this is during the Kingdom Final performance, air date 21.06.03), Hong Joong does come to the 'rescue' of some dancer who is a kid being bullied, but it goes by in 2 seconds before they start "The Real." But they had to put that in there to stave off criticism that they were glorifying a thing that people like me would really object to.

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The swagger about the Confucian Fundamentalist Fascist armband with both Seonghwa and San almost punching their own arm with glee, like they're 'powering up,' enacting being the tough kids who don't look like they've ever held a book never mind pay attention class, and nevertheless being seon-do-bu ordering people around? Yikes.

And yet the song is bouncy and fun (but I mean, I've read that Neo-Nazi songs are also very catchy), the boys are all Idols so they're beautiful and hot, and styled within an inch of their lives, so it's all aesthetically quite fun, you know?

I am suffering.

And it plays into a stereotype about Gyeongsangdo men being toughs, gangsters, criminals, enforcers etc. Moreover, the delivery of the words Seon-do-bu-da wait wait - where they don't pronounce the T on WAIT on purpose? It comes out to a Korean listener not reading along to the official lyrics like 선도부다 왜왜? - which is I'm Seun-do-bu why why? literally, but it the why why in our language context basically means, What are you gonna do about it, loser? I'm sure they did that on purpose.

The New Kkondae Situation

나쁜 건 나빠 man (yeah yeah)/ 말 들어 뉴 꼰대 (yes, sir)

Bad things are bad, man (Yeah, yeah)

Listen to me, new kkondae (Yes sir)

First off, if anyone actually said, 말들어 to me to my face I would straight up throw a chair at their face in the hopes of causing grievous harm. It's so rude and so condescending. It doesn't just say, "listen to me." It says "You're wrong, and I'm right, and you are moreover stupid and I'm superior, so you need to shut your mouth entirely and obediently listen to what I am teaching you." Again, the compression of Korean is very hard to explain in English, but 말들어 is a form of imperative for which the only non-abusive use I can imagine is a mom talking to a 2 year old having a meltdown in the supermarket, rolling around on the floor screaming because she won't buy them a 5 kg bag of brown sugar they are suddenly obsessed with.

Also the translation in Genius adds this false comma, "Listen to me, New Kkondae" because whoever did that didn't like what the song was actually saying. Ateez are not addressing the New Kkondae here as some sort of 'other,' they're calling themselves new kkondae. They're reclaiming the word kkondae, and declaring that they are carrying on kkondae values.

The explanatory note contributed on Genius lyrics says:

kkondae loosely translates as a “condescending older person”, the kind often found in a middle or upper management position in the workplace. So they’re trying to tell their “kkondae” to stop ordering their youngers around.

The first part is not wrong. That's generally what kkondae means. But of course, that's not all, and that's not the most important thing. Kkondae has acquired more color and more context over time, and now means something close to Someone Who Demands Fundamentalist Confucian Values Which Are Behind the Times. Why are such values behind the times? Because they are directly against concepts like, oh, democratic free speech, the assumption that everyone is equal and therefore everyone has an equal right to speak, that speech will not be met with physical violence, things like that. It's not just feminist women who don't like Fundamentalist Confucian values - any man who wants the right to disagree with someone older or richer or higher up in the hierarchy should rightly also hate it. And MOST DO.

The last time we lived in a truly Confucian society was during the Victorian era in England, OK? So these are people who are espousing Victorian values. Not even Edwardian but Victorian.

Millennial Korean men especially have been very loud from Day 1 of their adulthood about how much they hate it. And moreover, people born in the 1960s and 70s also hate the idea of kkondae, and fear becoming kkondae. Kkondae also means close minded. It was very important to have this word that insults and corrects this type of mindset. I'm very alarmed at the attempt to have kkondae be 'hip' in any way by reinventing some 'friendlier' version of it. This is too alarmingly close to the horrifying repackaging of the oppression of women as being a relaxing and feminine lifestyle that's been recently happening in the US.

The most trad-values guys of the Ateez group have also filmed this content, where they proclaimed themselves the new kkondae, more or less, which cements this perspective. The most traditional values guys among Ateez are Seonghwa, San, Jongho and Wooyoung.

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The ones that did not show up for this are important to consider too. Yeosang, Hongjoong, Yunho and Mingi aren't here. I can't get into it here but this video - and especially Jongho's attitude, remain a sharp pebble in my shoe about my fandom for this group.

Aint a Bad Thing Still Bad?

Hold up / 널 이끄는 황야의 리더 / Hold up /나쁜 건 나쁜 거 아입니까

Hold up, I'm your leader in the wilderness (Ooh) / Hold up, ain't bad still bad? (Ooh)

This is going to be yet another Gyeongsangdo moment, but they give this line to San, who says it in his regional accent. 아입니까 is technically speaking dialect, and not proper grammar. Proper grammar is 아닙니까, and even that formulation is down south dialect, and most people would say 아닌가요? 아입니까 is regional dialect, and it's also reaches back to something I don't want anyone reaching back to.

When a patriarchal Gyeongsangdo man says this phrase, and they do say it, it sounds neutral but the neutrality is a false cover. When I hear it, it makes me feel really violent, because it is one of the rhetorical tools used violently on me as a child, which helped make me the eruptive, verbally scary person I am today. It's phrased like a question - May I just confirm that a bad thing is in fact bad? but that isn't what the phrase is really SAYING.

It's saying, instead, I have decided what is good and what is bad, and those are the only two options. If you keep yapping, I am going to decide that you are a person who can't distinguish between good and evil, and moreover, may not be on the side of the good, which I have defined and my definition is the only one that is possible. So are you, in fact, someone who knows the difference between good and evil, and if you can, are you on the side of good or not?

It's a silencing rhetorical tactic with a threat of violence behind it, and it's in this song. I hate it so much.

Wait a second, woo / 숨이 턱까지 딱 / 아파 내 맘 / 아픈 데는 빨간약

소리는 악 / 따가워 소리 질러 / 오늘도 nah / 나쁜 건 나쁜 거다

Wait a second (Ooh) / Breathe to my chin (Woah) /My heart hurts

Red medicine for the pain (Bad) / Say “Ow” (Ow) / It stings, shout out (Freedom) /Today again, nah / Bad things are bad

위에 더 위에 / 서 차렷 서 집합해 yeah/ 전부 내 뒤에 /쉿 조용 쉿 따라 해 (yeah yeah) /집중해 지금 / 내 시도가 도시를 바꿔놨지 / 그 말마따나 조용히 시키는 대로만 하면 돼 / 용기 패기 객기

Higher and higher, stand up straight, gather around

Everyone behind me, shh, be quiet, follow my orders

Focus now, my actions changed the city

Just shut your mouth and do what you're told

Be brave, brash and bold

I can't do a word for word analysis but there is a typical Hongjoong Korean pun in here: 내 시도가 도시를 바꿔놨지. sido - dosi . Sido for attempt, dosi for city. Very cute.

The English translation says "shut your mouth, do you what you're told" but that's inaccurate. The lyrics actually say, All you need to do is obey my instructions in silence.

The Damn Arm Band

몸엔 black suit and tie / 오른팔엔 완장 tight / 롤리 대신 롤리팝

지금부터 긴장 빡

Wear a black suit and tie / Tight armband on my right / Lollipop instead of rollie / Stay nervous from now on

To show that they were empowered to oppress other children, Seon-do-bu wore armbands. Who else wears armbands? Nazis. Italian Fascists. The terrifying, destructive monstrous children of the Red Guard. The Military Police of most armies.

The whole purpose and design of armbands is supposed to cause a frightened shrinking in the person not wearing it, in order to silence them into meekness.

The Genius translation has this note which...

Armbands on the upper arm are of significance in a lot of cultures: in Japanese society, it’s often a method to identify the leader of a club/group. In soccer as well, it’s a symbol of captaincy which shows the crowd and the players where to look for inspiration, as the Captain has a responsibility to be a role model.

....I am supposed to say stuff like whoever this is meant well and they were trying to help and so on, but Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck it nah, this is my blog, and I am just going to say it:

If anyone ever ever EVER EVER tries to explain anything in Korean society at all whatsoever by going, "In Japanese society" just cut out their tongue. They have no idea what the fuck they're talking about. This note is every kind of entirely wrong and stupid. Why even say anything if you're going to be this goddamn WRONG? I hope they have painful poops from constipation every day until they die.

Wooyoung has a killer delivery of this line - the whispering is so menacing and sexy it's sickening.

But at the same time?

The word for power tripping in Korean actually literally says "the shit that happens when the wrong person wears an armband" (완장질). Feral, out of control young men in armbands have and always will be really bad news for women. And I can't let that go, unfortunately, which interferes with my capacity to enjoy this song.

8th Grade Syndrome and ATEEZ TRANSLATION FAILS

무슨 말을 해 / 안타까운 게 / 하나도 안 멋져 / 중2병 같아 / 내 몸에 딱 맞는 옷이 제일 예뻐 aye

What are you talking about?

You're such a pity

It's not cool at all

You're like a chuunibyou

Tight clothes are the prettiest

Chuunibyou (中二病 / 厨二病), often shortened to chuuni or chuu2, is an often-derisive Japanese slang term for the embarrassing behavior of 13-to-14-year-olds. The term literally means “Middle [School] 2[nd Year] Syndrome”.

So in this line, they’re trying to say that their haters or “kkondae” (as previously stated) are like immature children.

The last line is a bit wrong. The lyric is not 'tight clothes are the prettiest.' It means the clothes that are tailor made to you, that is, the clothes that fit you, are the ones that look the best. There's an English phrase for this concept too - Getting Too Big For Your Britches. That's what they're talking about.

중2병 literally means Second Year of Middle School Disease. Again the compulsion to shove Korean things into a Japanese frame - I WILL SMACK. OK to be fair about this one- this particular phrase, 중2병 is actually an imported phrase from Japan, but the meaning is now rather diverged from the OG Japanese concept. It used to mean teen angst or behaving like an angsty teenager but now it means something different - it means, in short, cringe. It means, someone who is pretentious, but also deeply ignorant and uninformed, and therefore transparently unable to sustain the pretensions to which they aspire.

And obviously, I disagree that Ateez are disavowing kkondae altogether. They want to be Reformation Kkondae. They want to be Renaissance kkondae. They're not rejecting it altogether, and made reality content in support of this desire to perpetuate Confucian fundamentalist behaviors, while staying stolidly silent about how, like all fundamentalisms, it was absolutely shit to women.

Yeah, I'm the leader, both captain

남달라 성이 / 멋대로 줄 세워도 우린 항상 처음이지

기준 앞뒤 좌우로 나란히 / 다 정숙해 정숙하고 손들어 찔리면

너는 겉멋이 죄 너는 언행이 죄 / 별점 받기 전에 벌점이 답인 애

후덜덜 손바닥 맴매 /난 여기까지만 선생님

I'm the leader, both captain

My family name is different / Cut in line, but we're always in the front

Attention, front and back, from side to side

Everyone, be quiet, shush, raise your hands up

If your'e caught, your fashion is crime, your words and actions are crime /Bonus points, no, minus points are your cure

You're shaking, let's hit your palms / I'll be your teacher until now

The translation for this in the English is also off, and it also seems to have a nostalgia for something that was actually quite vile.

손바닥 맴매: Corporal punishment, quite serious, quite violative, enacted by teachers upon students was a major method of pedagogical abuse and control in Korean schools until the early 2000s.

기준 앞뒤로 나란히 - is not Attention front and back etc. It says line up straight. You know like the military does, all the time? Line people up in straight blocks of interchangeable humans, and then make them march. This is yet another Fascism has cool aesthetics though, kind of a vibe.

손들어 찔리면: If your conscience is pricked, raise your hand to turn yourself in, is what he actually says. Obey in advance, in other words.

난 여기 까지만 선생님: This is blatantly wrongly translated. It doesn't say I will be your teacher until now. What he says is, This is as far as I a go, and then is calling the teacher to take over.

So in sum, what Hongjoong says is this: Your pretentiousness is your crime (can also be SIN because this group has really Catholic lyrics all the time), your speech and behavior are criminally bad/ sinful. The way to deal with a kid like you is penalize you rather than coax with praise. You should be given corporal punishment. Teacher, take over please.

And now to be a total killjoy about an enjoyable song

The fundamental problem with this song, and what it shows me, is the VAST GULF that still exists between Korean men and women, about where we are as a society. This song that looks with cheeky nostalgia at the era of Seon-do-bu, at the era of kkondae who did whatever they wanted without limit because there wasn't a word to critique such behavior, and reappropriates it for a fun time is only possible if that era is completely over. An entertainment company that created an all male group for whom the writers of the songs are also all men and they call their CEO Papa (I am not ever letting this go) that thinks the era of fascistic patriarchy is entirely over is not with it. For Korean women, we are still fucking in it. This is happening to us, -ING, in present tense. There is no nostalgia possible. It's not cute to me. And it's disturbing that they're using such charismatic boys to sing me this song.

All that said, there probably is some sort of justification in their lore for why this song exists. Maybe it is intended as subversion. But that just doesn't come through. And moreover, we're in a worldwide era of a resurgence of fascism. Men the same generation as Ateez elected an openly anti-feminist president into office in South Korea. That man then tried to criminally declare martial law, had to be fought off by a lot of young women protesting (using kpop lightsticks instead of candles!) and the very sturdy S. Korean democratic process and courts, and is now being tried as a criminal. And he still has MZ generation young men fans weeping for him and supporting his blatantly anti democratic tendencies. Confucian fundamentalist fascism is not cool. I don't want it.

But the song is really so catchy and fun, and performed with such panache.

Life is so hard, sometimes.

#the leaders by ateez #ateez meta #kpop meta #kpop ask #ateez ask #oh damn this thing is over 3K words long #so sorry

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fluffypinkhedgehog · 3 months ago

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❀⊱Walking Home Part 3⊰❀ ⤷ Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader | sfw, angst, one-shot, school au

w/c: 1,882

summary: Shadow's worried, so he followed you to the library.

warnings: Miscommunication, Shadow's P.O.V.

a/n: Man, these kids really need to speak their minds. (I need to learn that, too.) Also, I injured my wrist, somehow(???), so this was written with a lot of pain lol. Oh, and I decided on a theme song for this little series. Not because of the lyrics themselves, but Carly Rae Jepson's Call Me Maybe's vibe is very "hopeless romantic teenagers" lol. On top of that, I do have an idea for the ending of Walking Home. Not exactly sure how we'll get there, but I'll certainly try to make it as entertaining as possible! ღ P.S. There was an edit to the last chapter. See if you can find it! P.P.S. This took WAYYY longer to write than I wanted it to, BUT IT TURNED OUT SO GOOD AAAAAAAAAAAAA-

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Shadow approached the double doors to the school library, stopping. He had followed you in haste, not really thinking about what he would do once he found you. What would he say? What would he do? He can't exactly comfort you, could he? Well, isn't that why he followed you? Shadow closes his eyes and takes a breath through his nose, trying to calm his thoughts. Letting them run rampant right now isn't going to help the situation. Shadow balls his hand into a fist at his side while the other grips the strap of his backpack like a lifeline. He just had to make sure you were okay, nothing else. He didn't even have to talk to you.

With a huff of finality, Shadow gripped the handle of the door to the library, pushing it open with ease. A small tinkle of a bell rang out as the door opened, alerting the librarian at the desk who looked up from her book, which was poorly disguised as a magazine. A classic move many kids in his classes pulled when trying to use their phone during a time they shouldn't, though— for Shadow— it was a first to see someone trying to read an obvious erotica novel behind one. Shadow nodded to the librarian in greeting, who silently nodded back before returning to her debaucherous reading choice.

Turning away from the librarian's desk, Shadow headed deeper into the library. Normally, he would've asked the librarian where you went inside, but Shadow knew your favorite spot. Besides, he's pretty sure that miss librarian was too swathed in her book that she didn't know where you went. That's fine.

Shadow looked down the aisles as he walked through the library. For how quiet the library was, there were a lot more students here than he initially thought. He spotted a couple messing around, running between the aisles as one chases the other as silently they could without disrupting the whole library. Shadow rolled his eyes and sighed through his nose. He wouldn't admit it, but he was jealous.

As Shadow made one more turn he finally reached the back of the library, a popular spot for those who have a lot of studying to do or simply wish to sleep. That's where he found you; sitting at the center table with your face buried in your history textbook, your notebook to your right with pretty, color-coded, and curly handwriting. The table you sat at was your favorite spot; it got the best sunlight in the entire library. He often found you in sunlight. He liked the way the warm sun casted a halo around you, how it made you so sleepy but you were too stubborn to fall asleep in its warm embrace. Every time, though, you would always succumb to its sweet and warm embrace in the end.

Shadow shifted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, steeling himself. He didn't really want to distract you from your studies, but he promised himself that he would check in with you to see if you were alright. You looked bothered by the rumors, after all. Shadow put his free hand up to his mouth and coughed, trying to get your attention, but it didn't work. He coughed pretty loud too. That's when he noticed earbuds in your ears. You must be listening to your favorite low-fi music. He noticed that you liked the outdated stuff from the playlist you once showed him, songs from over 10-ish years ago. Shadow rubbed his fingers against his thumb in nervous hesitation before reaching forward and tapping you on the shoulder.

The reaction was immediate: a loud yelp that echoed off of the thick glass of the windows and a thump from you hitting your knee under the table, making your favorite thermos fall over, the liquid inside going all over the table. Thankfully, it was just water with ice.

“Ah, shit, shit, shit!” Shadow flinched back as you exclaimed as quietly as you could, scrambling to grab your jacket and soak up the water on the table before it could ruin any important papers. A 'Shhh!' comes from a nearby table, annoyed by the noise. You turn towards the shusher and respond with a heartfelt “Sorry!” before sighing and bending down to pick up the thermos that fell off the table.

Shadow felt really guilty. He didn't mean to scare you so badly. He scratched the back of his head, ruffling his quills. He looked back at you, the grip on his backpack strap tightening slightly. It's becoming a bad habit. “Do you mind if I... sit here?” He asked, tentatively.

“No— huh? I mean, yes! Yes, you can sit here. At the table. Here,” you cough, “Yes.” Crap, it was obvious he made you uncomfortable. He felt even more guilty now. He watched as you moved most of your items on the table, most of which were soaked along with your jacket. He noted that it was one of your comfier jackets. Damn it, he's just ruining your entire day at this point, isn't he? It was a bad idea to try and follow you.

Shadow pulled out the chair closest to him, dropping his bag on the floor beside him as he sat down. He dug through his backpack for his homework. By the time he pulled it out and looked back up at you, who had sat back down with a huff, a cloud had covered the sun, making you lose that ethereal glow. It made him a bit sad, but he can't control the weather. The two of you sat in silence as you continued studying your history textbook and Shadow started on his.

Shadow's mind started to swim with intruding thoughts. Every little motion of yours he was overthinking. Your scrunched face caused him worry, the tapping of your pencil gave him anxiety. He knew these were just your little quirks, which he found adorable, don't get him wrong, but the guilt was eating at him. He had to speak up. “Are you okay?”

You let out a startled 'huh?', looking up at him, surprise written on your face. “Oh, uh,” You look away, towards the window. Your gaze becomes distant. “Yeah, I'm okay.” It was another silent moment before you move your gaze back to your homework. Shadow wasn't convinced of your answer, his brows furrowing. That's when you look back up at Shadow, your expression beaming. “Thanks for asking, Shadow. I appreciate it.”

Shadow's heart skipped a beat. There's that smile he always liked. He smirked, giving a single chuckle through his nose. “I'm glad.” Shadow paused. He wanted to keep up a conversation with you. He wracked his brain as he watched you go back to your homework. He had to do it fast! What would he say, though? “Are you... going to the next track meet this weekend?”

Shadow caught you at a bad time. You were in the middle of taking a drink of whatever was left inside of your thermos, which probably was not a lot considering that it got dumped all over the table. Either way, he caught you off guard, yet again, causing you to accidentally inhale your water and choke on it. When will he stop ruining things? Shadow stood up, hovering over you. He didn't know what to do, the Heimlich maneuver that he just learned last week slipping out of his mind like sand. “I'm fine, I'm fine,” you said in between coughs. “You just caught me off guard, sorry!”

“It's okay,” Shadow replied, not really knowing how to reply to that. He sat back down in his seat. He looked at you, face full of worry. You looked at him and giggled a bit. Was something on his face? You shifted in your seat a bit.

“I'm gonna be busy on that day,” you finally said, fiddling with your mechanical pencil. Shadow's heart sunk. “Sadly, I got work!” You said with a sad smile. You had a job?

“I didn't know you had a job,” Shadow said, relaxing back in his chair. He was trying to look nonchalant, but he wasn't quite sure if it was working or if he just looked dumb.

“Uh, yeah. I work at the bowling alley. You know, the one down on main street.” Shadow knew that place. It wasn't exactly the safest spot, but the bowling alley was popular so it was safer than others. He was relieved that it wasn't any of the other bowling alleys in town.

“Maybe I'll visit,” Shadow said. Oops, he wasn't supposed to say that out loud. You looked at him, facial expression shocked. Did you hate the idea that much? He knew you didn't like him as much as he liked you, but your reaction did hurt him a little. Backpedaling, Shadow continued: “With the track team. Sonic's been saying he's been wanting to go. Bowling, I mean.”

“Oh,” you said, visibly deflating. Did you.. Not hate the idea? “Yeah, sure. It would make things at least a little lively there.” You gave a sad smile, eyebrows furrowed. You went back to your textbook as fast as the conversation ended.

It became awkward. You and Shadow worked on your homework in absolute silence, the only sounds were the rustling of paper and pencils writing. Shadow couldn't take it any longer. He set his pencil down, looking up to tell you the truth, that he wanted to visit so the two of you could hang out outside of school, but when he looked up he found you slumped over your textbook, asleep. The sun came out from the clouds in that moment, washing you in that warm, ethereal glow. He stared for what felt like forever but was only mere moments before he smiled, closing his textbook and putting it away along with his worksheets.

Shadow stood up and started gathering your things, putting them in your small messenger bag. He wasn't sure exactly how you liked things put away, so he hoped that what he was doing was good enough. He gingerly peeled you off of your textbook, replacing it with your jacket— which was has thankfully dried out already— and putting it in your bag before putting your back inside of his backpack so it's secure.

Shadow then moves you off of your jacket so he could put it inside of his backpack as well. He was glad that he had such a large backpack. Afterwards, he slung his bag over his shoulders and picked you up. You immediately clung to him in your sleep, getting comfortable in his arms. A small blush crept up on his face as he started to leave the library. This certainly wont quell the rumors anytime soon. That's when he heard you say his name as he walked out the library doors.

“Shadow,” you said, sleepily, almost slurring. Were you already awake? “I like you.”

Shadow froze in place. His face was entirely flushed. You liked him? Then he heard you lightly snore, continuing with something nonsensical. Oh. You were sleep talking. Shadow's heart sunk, his blush fading quickly. But... What if what you were saying in your sleep were your true feelings? If they were...

He wished they were.

Tag list: @affinitytales

#shadow #shadow the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow x reader #x reader #school au

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untilmynextstory · 7 days ago

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sugar on the rim | stripper!honey

summary: pope didn't really want to go to a strip club for his birthday, but maybe it's not so bad when he receives a private dance by the headliner, Honey.

In the Land of Women | 18+

chapter summary: Pope contemplates the women in his life.

warning: smut (p in v), medication, allusions to mental disability/illness, reference drug use

companion pieces: t-shirt, closer

One thing that Pope has observed about Honey is that she is a busy bee. He even has trouble keeping track of where she is some days. He thinks about her color-coded calendar that details every event she has committed to, from yoga and pilates classes. She and some girls from the club have weekly hangouts, from dinner, clubbing, or other activities that he usually offers to drop her off and pick her up at. Then, on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, along with every other Saturday, she teaches dance classes at the Center.

That is where Pope finds himself as he watches her direct a class filled with 6—and 7-year-olds. He feels something as he can see the joy and spark in her as she interacts with kids. He notices she is a natural as she corrects and soothes the kids.

And he decides not to linger on that thought, especially as he spots who he thinks is Lena in the class as well.

He can feel some moms eyeing him warily, which he works hard to ignore as he finds a seat away from the crowd and holds a bouquet of dahlias, Honey's favorite flower.

He digs out his phone to kill time and notes that the class only has a few minutes left.

With no job with his brothers, and Honey having a free Saturday due to the club dealing with a burst waterline, Pope took the opportunity to ask Honey out on an official date. Despite living together, they never really went out. Most of their time was spent at her place watching movies, doing puzzles, playing games, or fucking.

He recalls the sweet smile she gave him when he officially asked her.

Pope can't recall if he has ever really gone on a date, and he could feel his insecurity bubbling up as he bought the lavender shirt suggested by the saleswoman.

Sometimes, he didn't understand how someone like Honey could willingly want to be with someone like him.

Pope knows he has his damage—his sins. He isn't a good man. Blood and pain have molded his hands. Yet, Honey cradles them so gently. She lets him map her body and caress her. She lets him hold her as if they had never caused destruction.

“What are you doing here?” The tone directed at him is harsh and breaks his thoughts about Honey.

He blinks from his phone before looking up into Catherine's defensive face.

He isn't sure what Catherine is to him. She was among the first people who had been nice to him when they met as kids. She was his friend before Baz took her, and it felt like they couldn't be friends anymore. Sure, he had feelings for her. Trying to separate them was hard, especially knowing how Baz felt about Julia and the trips to Mexico with Lucy. But he cared for her deeply, no matter how messy the feelings were involved. He didn’t want to see her or Lena hurt from them being involved with his family.

And then there was that night—a night that haunted him throughout prison. Maybe he had been naive in his feelings that Catherine spared him.

As she told him, she was upset and angry with Baz. And the truth if it stings. It still does, knowing that he was just an object to be used for a moment and then discarded.

And worse, it seems now she is afraid of him.

With his release from prison, things were frayed. He had clung to a teenage fantasy with Cath. He can admit maybe his behaviors weren't the best, or Deran would tell him, he gets a little weird.

He can admit he will always love Cath, but now he has Honey. And the feelings that surge through him are different than those with Cath.

“Were you waiting for me?” It's the accusation that burns the most. The way she tiptoes around him as if he will explode.

Pope frowns. He glances around and sees that most moms and kids are gone. It's just him and Cath in the deserted hallway. He stands up, and Cath immediately creates distance. His frown deepens.

“No.”

She looks at him in disbelief, and her eyes gaze at the flowers in his hand. He starts to wonder when Cath became almost ashamed of him.

“Mommy!”

The cautious look on Cath disappears at Lena's voice, and it turns into a relaxed, tired smile of a mother.

He watches as the two hug tightly, and Lena's brown eyes widen at seeing him from her mother's shoulders.

“Hi, Uncle Pope!”

He manages a smile. He is never sure how to act around Lena. It's partly because he hasn't been in her life for three years, but the way everyone acts around him, it's almost as if he has to have permission to interact with her. Yet, it seems that his showing up didn’t hinder Lena wanting to get to know him as her uncle. She is free with her curiosity about things. Isn’t scared to show him something or make him bend down and sit on the floor for a tea party. It feels nice just being an uncle.

“Those are pretty flowers, who are they for?” Lena asks.

“Yeah, who are those for?” A warm, more welcome voice adds.

He finds a genuine smile tugging his lips at the sight of Honey from the doorway.

“I got them for you,” he tells her.

He watches her maple colored eyes get brighter as she approaches him and presses a kiss on his cheek.

He watches as Cath's eyes widen in disbelief.

“You know Miss Honey?” Lena asks with bright, curious eyes.

Honey looks up at him as she holds one of his hands tightly.

“She's my girlfriend.” He can feel a flush forming on his cheeks, as they never discussed titles. It almost feels silly having a girlfriend at his age.

Cath doesn't hide her look of surprise while Lena beams. Honey smiles at the flowers.

“You're so lucky, Uncle Pope. You better treat her good!”

Honey beams. “He treats me very well.”

“Lena, sweetie, it's time to go,” Cath says awkwardly.

Lena grabs her mom's hand without complaint as she waves to Honey and Pope.

Honey watched with a curious smile as she saw Pope enter early through the observation window. She always loved it when he showed up early, as he always watched so eagerly, and she knew that the kids loved showing him the moves they learned if they happened to be waiting for a parent to pick them up.

Then she saw a worried look come over Catherine Blackwell's features as she saw Pope, and Honey couldn't believe it had taken her until then to realize that Lena was Baz's daughter.

And from the body language alone, she could tell something was off between her and Pope. A woman's intuition is never wrong.

Yet, she was excited about her date with Pope, so she put it on the back burner, especially when she noticed he had gotten a new lavender shirt and a bouquet of her favorite flowers. She could see the appreciation in his eyes as she wore one of her white sundresses. She prayed he wouldn’t ruin this one later in the night either.

He had taken her to a new Mexican restaurant, which she had enjoyed. She could tell Pope was nervous despite the fact they have been fucking for weeks. Although she thought it was adorable, he thought he had overstepped by calling her his girlfriend.

Arriving home, she quickly finds a vase for her flowers and places them on the dining room table. Pope trails quietly behind her. Despite having a great time at the restaurant and a short walk around town, she could tell something was on his mind.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

Honey turns to find him looking awkward, like a little boy. She walks over to him and wraps her arms around his waist.

She raises an eyebrow. “You and Catherine Blackwell?”

Pope doesn't say anything as his eyes move from her eyes to behind her. She knows she is breaching something vulnerable for him not to make eye contact.

“Andrew, can you look at me, please?”

The sound of his name forces him to look down at her. “I know you have a past…” She says gently, and she is not talking about previous romantic relationships, but his life with his family and the reasons he is currently out on parole.

He takes a breath, and she feels him stiffen. She lays her head on his chest. She isn't going to force him to talk. So she waits as she holds him for him to find his footing on where to lead the conversation.

Eventually, he relaxes enough and wraps his arms around her. She feels his cheek lie atop her head.

“She's going to tell them,” he whispers.

Honey hums. She, being Catherine, will tell his family that she is his girlfriend. “Are you upset?”

Pope is quiet as he contemplates his words. “My brothers are already bugging me that something is going on. I think Smurf suspects something…”

Honey nods. “This will only work if we're honest with each other.” She tells him gently.

“I don’t want her to ruin this.”

Honey gives him a sad smile before wrapping her arms around him tightly. “Communication. That is the only way this will work.”

Pope takes a deep breath before she feels his fingers playing in her hair. “Cath…she was one of the few people that was nice to me. She was my friend. And I…” he pauses, and Honey can feel his trepidation.

She suspects what he is going to say next. “You loved her.”

He nods. “And she loves Baz, so he took her.”

She suspects there is more, but she isn't going to push. She hugs him tighter. She thinks it's Catherine's loss. Honey knows there is probably more to the story, but she doesn't want to linger on the past.

She kisses his chest, and he wraps his arms around her tightly.

Honey had been out for lunch with a few girls from the club when she got a collect call from a detention center from Pope.

She knew Pope had plans to go to Ms. Pearl's to help out around the house. Pope had been going over there a lot, helping with the garden, painting, and fixing things. She knows that he had plans to build a gazebo. He seemed lighter the more time he spent at Ms. Pearl’s, and from her phone calls with Ms. Pearl, she enjoyed the company and the sight of the company, which Honey didn’t know if she should gag or scold Ms. Pearl.

She is happy that Pope has found time to occupy himself. Although she knows he is a property manager on paper, she finds that before meeting Ms. Pearl and her, he would spend time locked in his head at his mother’s house.

So her heart dropped when she got the phone call, and she doesn't even know if she properly said goodbye to the girls as she rushed to the car.

She meets Pope’s parole officer at the desk. “What happened?”

Honey had met Pope's parole officer before. She remembers the look he gave her, no doubt wondering why she was with someone with a past like his. Worst, she recalls his look when she divulges her place of employment. Even though she didn’t appreciate his PO's lack of optimism about Pope's reintegration into society, even if she ignored his family’s business, Pope had told her that his PO was cool, whatever that meant.

“Flash incarceration. A warning. If he violates his parole again, he'll serve out the rest of his sentence in prison.”

Honey's eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. “How?”

She ensures Pope is on top of things to the point that he huffs at her.

“He failed a drug test.”

“What!” She stutters in shock. “He doesn't do drugs.”

She remembers one of their earliest conversations after she spotted the gun he had on him when he came to her house late at night. She had wanted to ban a gun from ever being in her home, but she conceded that she didn’t want to know where it was, but drugs are something she would not tolerate at all in her house. She knows all about Craig's snorting habits and said she wouldn’t accept it even recreationally. Pope didn’t voice any complaints and stated he didn’t do drugs.

“Well, he must've taken something. Is he back on his meds?” The PO asks dryly.

Yet, his question causes her to stiffen. She knows Pope has his quirks, but medication. Pope never mentioned being on anything. She has never even seen him with a prescription.

She nibbles on her lip as she hears doors opening and closing before Pope comes through. She can tell he is pissed, but she doesn't care. She greets him with a hug; he returns it stiffly.

She releases him, and he barely acknowledges his PO, who cautions that if he does it again, he'll do it in real time.

She knows Pope must have been upset as he didn't ask for her driving keys. He entered the passenger seat and looked at the passing scenery.

Honey is unsure of how to bring up this flash incarceration and the fact that he may need to be put on medication, or why he needs medication.

“Do you need me to drop you off somewhere?” She asks hesitantly.

He doesn’t respond but turns to look from the passenger window to the front window.

She clutches the steering wheel, “Andrew -”

“I don’t need medication. I don't need to be fixed.” Pope says tightly.

“Babe-”

He talks over her. “It's Smurf, and I wouldn't be surprised if Baz is in on it.”

Honey is confused. “Your mom is drugging you?”

“Have you been followed? You seen my brothers around?” He asks, his eyes boring into the side of her face.

Honey feels her chest tighten at the implication that someone from his family could be following her. She feels like she can't find her footing with this conversation.

“Pope, what is going on?”

He doesn't answer her, and Honey is beginning to feel frustrated. She presses her lips in a thin line as she silently continues the drive to her house.

She parks her car, and Pope silently leaves her car and goes to his truck.

She scowls as she hops out of the car. “Andrew!”

She sees him hesitate.

He turns to look at her, his expression is unreadable. “I'll see you tonight.” He hops in his truck before she can question him further.

Pope should have known his mother would find some way to sabotage his one piece of peace he could carve out for himself.

She didn't want him in the house, and he was something to be discarded. She sold his home and then gave his room away to J. He didn’t have time to decipher his mom’s power move with that one, and quite frankly, he didn’t want to.

On top of that everyone was eyeing him like he was a goddamn liability.

Yet, she knew he wasn't staying at a motel. He wasn't crashing in an empty bedroom or on the couch. He purposefully left his phone elsewhere so she couldn't track him.

She knew he was staying somewhere and didn't like not knowing. She didn't like not having control of the situation—him. It only pissed him off further, as she had been the one to push him off to the edges. And Baz can’t even be straight with him. Both his mother and Baz treat him like he is some dog on a leash.

And Honey, fuck, he knows she is going to be pissed when he comes home tonight. Yet, he didn’t want to see her look at him as if he were a broken toy. He didn’t want her to look at him as everyone in his goddamn family seem to look at him as if he didn’t know how to wipe his ass.

He isn't surprised to find his mother making an extravagant meal in the kitchen, as if she were Martha Stewart. However, he assumes she could be if she had the felony on her record, but Smurf was typically never sloppy enough to get caught.

“Hey, Baby,” she greets him from her kitchen island. Her smile is bright, as if she is happy to see him. He sometimes wonders if he ever made his mother happy, him or Julia. Her artificial smile dims a bit at his silence. “Everything okay?”

He stares at her, knowing it unnerves her. “I met with my PO today.”

“Yeah?”

“Got locked up.”

She looks shocked. “For what?”

“LSD, " he tells her bluntly. He tries to find any flaw or crack in his mother's demeanor. It's not like this isn't the first time his mother has done this with Baz as her accomplice.

Yet to think it's barely been 3 months since he has been out, and she immediately saw him as some unstable child to control, as if she isn’t the reason for the way she shaped him.

“There must've been some mistake.”

“That's what I told my P.O. I've never taken that shit in my life.” And Pope has no plans to return to prison, especially when Honey is waiting at home for him.

“Are you sure this wasn't a shakedown?” She inquires.

Pope wants to snatch the mixing bowl and throw it from her hands; he would if it didn't cause such a mess. “No, he's straight. Piss test don't lie. That's what he said.”

“Well, that's not true,” she insists. “They mix up those samples all the time.”

“They made me take a second test.”

Smurf finally drops the mixing bowl and wipes her hands on her dish towel. “Well, what about who you're staying with? Do you really know them?”

“And who am I staying with?” Pope counters.

Smurf looks at him. He knows he isn't going to break, and he also knows Cath must have told Baz, who told Smurf. He wouldn't be surprised if this knowledge was used to help Cath and Smurf get on even ground.

Smurf seems to call a truce. “What are you doing with a stripper, baby? I heard about those girls down there offering things off the menu…” She sounds so sickly sweet and concerned, as if she has any moral ground to judge a stripper.

He stares at his mother and doesn't reply as his brothers, including Baz, with a shit eating grin, come through the door for dinner.

Pope can smell a setup.

Craig smacks him in the shoulder after Smurf announces the reason for his more sour mood..

“You, uh, holding out on me?”

“I didn't do LSD.” He replies bluntly.

“Hey, you eat a bagel?” Deran asks.

Pope furrows his brows. “What?”

“A bagel.” He repeats. “Did you eat a bagel?”

Sometimes Pope is convinced Smurf dropped his brothers' heads as babies.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Craig asks.

“The poppy seeds, man.” Deran elaborates. “That shit is in your piss. Everybody knows that.”

Pope looks at his brother in amusement. “That's opium, dipshit.”

“Yeah, well, maybe something else,” Deran replies. ��Maybe not the poppies, but, you know, something like that. Just sayin'.”

Pope sighs and can spot Baz's shit-eating grin from the corner of his eye. “So I heard something interesting about you, Pope.”

He almost bristles as his younger brothers preen at Baz's words. Pope doesn’t say anything as he stares at Baz.

“Word around town is you got yourself a girlfriend.”

“What?” Deran asks, shocked. Pope tries not to be insulted.

Craig slaps his shoulder. “Bro, what the fuck! Who is it?”

J continues eating his food, unbothered. Pope decides he will be nicer to his nephew for this purpose alone.

“It's Honey,” he says simply.

It is almost as if a needle dropped on the floor.

“Whoa…wait, how did this happen?” Craig exclaims.

Pope doesn't bother answering his brother's inquiry as he stands up from his seat, never breaking eye contact with his mother.

“I expect to meet her for dinner, Andrew,” Smurf says. “The club is closed on Mondays, right?”

Pope clenches his jaw as he nods and approaches his truck.

On his drive home, Pope realizes how he left things earlier today with Honey wasn’t his smartest move. He also knows that she is most likely pissed at him. He places his keys in the ceramic bowl she keeps by the door. The house is quiet, and he would think Honey isn’t home if it wasn’t for the sound of the shower running.

He bypasses the bedroom and makes his way to the bathroom. He finds Honey under the spray of water, seemingly oblivious to his presence.

He slowly removes his clothing, and the sound of them going into the hamper seems to startle her, and she jumps. Her eyes widen at seeing him, and he notices they narrow.

He is honestly surprised she doesn't turn off the water immediately. Instead, she turns and goes back to standing under the spray. He enters quietly behind her.

He hesitates to reach out to her as he isn't sure he can handle her rejection. However, she allows him to grab her washcloth to begin washing her. It isn't until she turns around for him to wash her front that she speaks.

She stops his hands from his progress. “What you did today was not okay.”

Pope clenches his jaw as he can't express a disagreement. Honey had made it clear that communication was the only way to go.

Pope places the washcloth on the rack as he tries to gather his thoughts.

“It feels like I am letting her in.” He tells Honey. He knows Smurf is trying to find her way to sink her claws back into him and his relationship.

“Do you need to be on medication?”

“Not for the reasons Smurf thinks I do.” He tells her. He can tell Honey doesn't seem satisfied with his answer, but she doesn't press.

“And she has been drugging you?”

“She won't admit it outright, but she had to have been crushing them and putting them into my food.”

Pope reaches out and grips her waist. Sometimes, he feels that holding Honey is the only way to ground himself. “Smurf invited us over for dinner.”

Honey doesn't say anything as the water pounds against her back. After a few minutes, she moves closer to him. Her hands cup her face as she stares into his eyes. “I'm with you, Andrew. I'll always be with you, but today can't happen again. I can't…I know who I'm with. I know your family. I can't be this side fantasy for you. I want to be with you, all of you.”

Pope swallows the lump forming in his throat. “You shouldn't want to be with someone like me.”

“Someone who cares for me, helps me around the house, and the woman most important to me. Makes sure I have food, money, and everything I need?”

“I've done things…”

“I know,” Honey replies. “I know.” She repeats with weight.

“Honey…I…” He loses his words because he doesn’t know what to say. He wants to warn her to leave, to run far away from him, but he knows that the thought of her leaving would break him. He knows he would track her down and always be aware of where she was and who she was with.

“It's just you and me,” Honey soothes.

Pope hugs her and rests his head on her shoulder. “I'm sorry about earlier.”

“What are you afraid of with your mother?” She asks him honestly.

“She'll take this from me.”

“We won't let her, okay?” Honey promises. Pope knows she means it, and he clings to it, but he knows it's dangerous to have hope.

Honey knows Pope has not been looking forward to the dinner his mother is hosting. His nocturnal activities were more prominent leading up to this night.

Still, Honey could see why Pope had been hesitant to invite her over. Ever since she walked through the door with her crab and shrimp spinach dip and Oreo dirt cake, she had been sized up and dissected.

Not so much by Craig and Deran. Craig keeps lamenting about her being with Pope while she feels Deran could really care less about who Pope hangs around with.

Baz keeps giving her this superficial smile, and his comments make it seem she is with Pope out of pity or because she is using him for something.

Catherine has a sour look on her face.

Smurf has the same smile as Baz, and she regales them all with tales of Pope as a child or some story between the brothers. She notices no one mentions Pope's twin, Julia.

Outside of Lena, the only one who seems genuine and kind is J, who can have an everyday conversation about life in Oceanside.

Dinner could be worse, she thinks as she washes her hands after using the bathroom.

She opens the door and is startled as she finds Cath standing outside. She never really talked to Cath at the Center. She would just let her know about Lena and how dancing was going, but unlike other moms who would sometimes linger and gossip, Cath would pick up and leave.

“Hey, everything okay?” Honey asks genuinely.

Cath gives her a strained smile. “Yeah, I just wanted to see how you were feeling with all of this?”

Honey keeps her face blank as she processes the question. She is under no illusion that whatever she says will be repeated to Baz, who will then tell Smurf.

“Just a family dinner, ya know.” Honey replies. “Everyone seems pretty cool.”

“And you're okay with Pope?”

Honey doesn't hide her confusion. “Why wouldn't I be?”

Cath takes a deep breath and shakes her head, and for the first time, Catherine seems to relax. Honey can tell she is struggling to find words.

“Pope and I are good-happy,” Honey tells her to reassure Cath. She is finding that Cath is a confusing woman.

“He deserves that,” Cath replies with a small smile.

“He does.” Honey agrees.

“Just be careful around Smurf,” Cath advises. “I haven’t seen Pope this relaxed in a long time. I’m hoping we can be friends.”

“Of course.”

Honey can tell Pope is ensuring she isn't left alone with his mother. Even when she volunteers to help bring out desserts and plates, Pope joins her despite any subtle objection she gives.

However, she knows he is doing everything to thwart her, and Smurf having one-on-one time is delaying the inevitable.

She is able to get Pope to actually engage with his brothers and nephew as she goes to help Smurf clean up.

And Smurf doesn't disappoint as Honey walks back into the kitchen after giving Pope a beer to drink while she cleans.

“You know you're the first girlfriend he has introduced me to,” Smurf says with a little smirk. Honey is unsure how to take in Smurf with the bleach blonde hair, V-neck, and gold jewelry. Smurf does look good for her age, Honey can admit. Yet, there is a strange aura that surrounds her. It is unnerving, especially as she feels Smurf influence throughout the dynamics between the boys. And Honey has stepped into a hornet's nest by being with the older brother.

“I guess I should be honored,” Honey replies.

“So it's serious between you two?”

“I like to think so,” she replies simply.

Smurf becomes quiet as she moves and stands beside her, too close for comfort, as she can smell her perfume. “Did he tell you about the medication?”

“He told me that he didn't need medication.”

Smurf smirks. “When he was first released, he would spend hours pounding at those bricks,” she points to a spot in the backyard. “One night, I found him with the sledgehammer, naked, staring up at the moon. “

“So what, the meds were to even him out?” Honey inquires honestly.

“Without them, he tends to get hasty, paranoid, unpredictable, or violent,” Smurf says nonchalantly. “You just need to know who you let in your house.” Smurf appraises her, and Honey is almost taken aback when she presses a kiss to her cheek. “You're too pretty to get hurt.”

Honey isn’t sure how to respond, but she doesn't have to as Pope enters the kitchen and tells her he is ready to leave.

Honey is quiet during the car ride home. Pope doesn't like it. Even if she sits beside him and holds one of his hands in her lap, it's unsettling.

He thinks he should never have brought her over to Smurf’s, and he isn't going to again. Who knows what his mother said to her in that kitchen?

“J is nice,” she finally says.

Pope hums as he is indifferent towards his nephew. He doesn't know whether to trust him, and doesn't know what his twin told her son about them. But a part of him knows that he owes Julia by looking out for her son.

“We should invite him over for dinner, and your brothers, too?”

Pope snorts.

“Hey, what is that for?”

“If you invite those freeloaders over, they'll never leave.”

Honey rolls her eyes. “So, who is your favorite brother?”

“I don't have one.”

“Liar,” Honey replies, causing him to roll his eyes. Yet, she doesn’t press as they continue the drive to her house.

They make it there without any incidents. He pulls the keys out of the ignition and starts to leave the truck, but Honey's hand stops him.

He looks at her curiously and is surprised when she perches on his lap, the smell of vanilla and marshmallows infiltrating his nose. He is silent as she looks into his eyes before she fists his shirt and kisses him hard. It takes him by surprise.

It's needy, urgent, consuming, and grounding. Her legs tighten on his lap, and his hands tangle in her hair.

He melts into her as she grinds on him over his jeans. She presses closer to him, yet the need for air consumes them both as she pulls back. Her lips are swollen, and the brown has disappeared in her eyes and is replaced by black. The straps to her dress have fallen. It's only a swift tug that exposes her chest to him. He loves the sundresses she wears; they give him easy access to her body. And the colors she wears highlight the tan of her skin.

Pope thinks she is simply intoxicating as he licks his lips, the remnants of her mango lip gloss coating her tongue.

He watches as Honey undoes his belt and releases him from his confines. She spits in her hand before she begins stroking him as she captures his lips again, their tongues tangling.

She lets out a whimper as he pulls her back and stops her hand, lips glistening from their spit, “Andrew…”

“Tell me you're mine.”

She looks at him breathlessly. “You know I am.”

“I need to hear you say it.”

He watches as her expression softens. “I belong only to you, " she tells him as she looks directly into his eyes.

He leans back in his seat, and Honey takes her cue as she lines him up with her center and slowly eases down.

She giggles slightly at his reaction to her having no barrier. She wraps one arm around his neck and coaxes him into another kiss. He groans into her mouth as he bottoms out.

He squeezes her before he parts from her lips and turns his attention to her perfect breasts. He closes his mouth over one of the darkening buds while his free hand pinches and pulls the other.

Honey's walls tighten around him as her hands tangle in his hair. He can tell she is close as her hips start to stutter.

He releases her nipple with a pop as he captures her lips again and thrusts hard up into her, matching her pace.

She mewls against his mouth, “Andrew…”

“Show me you're mine, come for me.” He orders.

His words are her undoing as she comes apart. With her back arching, she continues moving and riding out her orgasm. With her walls fluttering around him, gripping him tighter, his release is triggered, and he empties inside her with a loud groan.

Their breaths mingle as they rest their forehead against each other.

After years of roaming and feeling untethered, Pope thinks he has finally found a home.

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