The votes are in… 👀 Weak Hero Class it is!! Little surprise though… the fic in my drafts is actually two parts. so keep an eye out because both will be posted sooooon <3
Summary: A nightmare leaves Logan shaken and his claws out. Convinced he’s a danger to you, he pushes you away… until you remind him that you’ve never been afraid of him.
Word count: 1,269
———————————————
The mansion was quiet.
For once, there were no training sessions, no missions, and no arguments echoing through the halls. Just darkness and silence.
You were curled against Logan’s side beneath the blankets, half asleep. One of his arms rested around your waist, warm and heavy. The steady rise and fall of his chest usually helped you drift off.
Logan wasn’t exactly known for being affectionate.
At least not around other people.
But when it was just the two of you, he was different. Softer. Gentler. A side of him that very few people ever got to see.
You were just beginning to fall into a deeper sleep when Logan suddenly jerked beside you.
At first, you thought he was simply moving around.
Then he growled.
The sound was low and rough, immediately pulling you awake.
You blinked in the darkness and turned toward him.
“Logan?”
He didn’t answer.
His breathing was uneven.
Fast.
The muscles in his body were completely rigid beneath the blankets.
You pushed yourself up onto one elbow, concern immediately replacing your sleepiness.
Moonlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating his face.
His expression was twisted in pain.
Fear.
Anger.
Like he was trapped somewhere far away.
Another growl escaped him.
Then—
SNIKT.
Your breath caught.
Three adamantium claws shot from each hand.
The metallic sound sliced through the silence of the room.
Logan’s head thrashed against the pillow.
“No…” he muttered.
His voice sounded strained.
Broken.
“Stop…”
Your heart sank.
A nightmare.
A bad one.
“Logan,” you said softly.
His breathing only became more frantic.
Sweat glistened across his forehead.
“No!”
The word exploded from him.
You carefully reached toward his shoulder.
“Logan, wake up.”
Nothing.
His body remained tense.
Trapped inside whatever memory was haunting him.
You knew enough about Logan’s past to understand that his nightmares weren’t ordinary ones.
They were memories.
Pieces of trauma that never truly left him.
The experiments.
The torture.
The violence.
The countless things he’d survived.
“Logan.”
You gently squeezed his shoulder.
His entire body jolted.
His eyes flew open.
For one terrifying second, pure panic flashed across his face.
Then his gaze landed on you.
And immediately dropped to where his claws were extended only inches away.
The colour drained from his face.
The claws retracted instantly.
“Shit.”
His voice was rough and hoarse.
You sat up fully.
“Hey. It’s okay.”
“No.”
Logan threw the blankets aside and climbed out of bed so fast it nearly startled you.
“It’s not.”
You watched him pace across the room.
His jaw was clenched.
His shoulders were tight.
Every muscle in his body looked tense.
“Logan—”
“I could’ve hurt you.”
The words came out sharp.
Angry.
Not at you.
At himself.
You slowly got out of bed.
“You didn’t.”
“But I could have.”
He spun around.
His eyes were wild.
Filled with guilt.
“You were right there.”
“Logan—”
“I lost control.”
“You were asleep.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
His voice rose.
Frustration poured from every word.
Years of self-hatred and fear bubbling to the surface.
“You don’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me.”
A bitter laugh escaped him.
The sound made your chest ache.
“I’ve spent most of my life hurting people.”
His gaze dropped to his hands.
The same hands that had protected you more times than you could count.
“You think I don’t know what I’m capable of?”
The room fell silent.
You slowly stepped toward him.
Immediately, Logan stepped back.
The movement hurt more than you wanted to admit.
“Don’t.”
Your stomach dropped.
“Don’t what?”
“Come closer.”
His voice cracked slightly.
And suddenly you realised what this was really about.
Fear.
Not fear of himself.
Fear of hurting you.
“You shouldn’t be this close to me.”
You stared at him.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
His eyes remained fixed on the floor.
“You ain’t safe with me.”
The words hung heavily in the room.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then you crossed the distance anyway.
Logan looked up immediately.
Frustration flashed across his face.
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?”
“I did.”
“Then why aren’t you listening?”
“Because you’re wrong.”
His jaw tightened.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
He let out an annoyed growl.
You reached for his hand.
Logan immediately tried pulling away.
You refused to let go.
“Look at me.”
He didn’t.
“Logan.”
Slowly, reluctantly, his eyes met yours.
The pain in them nearly broke your heart.
“I know exactly who you are.”
His expression hardened.
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
You squeezed his hand.
“I know you’re stubborn.”
A tiny twitch appeared at the corner of his mouth.
“I know you’re grumpy before coffee.”
His eyes rolled slightly.
“And I know you leave your boots in the middle of the floor every single day.”
“Those are tactical placements.”
You laughed softly.
“There he is.”
The smallest hint of a smile appeared on his face before disappearing again.
You stepped closer.
This time he didn’t move away.
“I know you care about people more than you pretend to.”
His gaze softened.
“I know you’d throw yourself in front of danger for any person in this mansion.”
You gently cupped his cheek.
“And I know you’d never hurt me.”
Logan closed his eyes.
“You can’t know that.”
“I do.”
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“What if one day you’re wrong?”
The vulnerability in that question shattered you.
This wasn’t about tonight.
This was years of believing he was a monster.
Years of carrying guilt that wasn’t his to carry.
You rested your forehead against his.
“You need to let me in.”
He stayed silent.
“You always try to handle everything alone.”
Your thumb brushed across his cheek.
“You don’t have to.”
For several long moments, neither of you moved.
The room was completely silent.
Then you whispered the words you knew he needed to hear.
“I love you, Logan.”
His eyes opened.
“You hear me?”
He nodded once.
Barely.
“I love all of you.”
A tearful smile appeared on your face.
“The good parts.”
The corner of his mouth twitched.
“The grumpy parts.”
A tiny smile followed.
“And the scared parts too.”
His shoulders finally relaxed.
The tension slowly drained from his body.
For the first time since waking up, he looked exhausted instead of angry.
“You deserve better than me.”
You immediately rolled your eyes.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The dramatic nonsense.”
A surprised laugh escaped him.
A real one.
Small, but genuine.
You smiled.
“There you are.”
Logan shook his head.
Then, without warning, he pulled you into his arms.
You wrapped yours around him instantly.
Holding him tightly.
His face buried itself in your hair.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
You simply stood there together.
Letting the nightmare fade.
Letting the fear pass.
Eventually, Logan sighed.
“You should get some sleep.”
“Only if you come with me.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“Bossy.”
“Yep.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“You’ve survived worse.”
Another laugh escaped him.
A few minutes later, the two of you were back in bed.
This time Logan practically dragged you against his chest.
His arm wrapped tightly around your waist.
Like he needed the reassurance as much as you did.
You snuggled closer.
Listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
“Feeling better?” you whispered.
A long pause followed.
Then you felt his lips press softly against the top of your head.
“Yeah.”
You smiled.
“Good.”
The room fell silent once more.
Safe, Warm and Peaceful.
As sleep finally pulled you both under again, Logan held you just a little tighter, knowing that for once, he didn’t have to face the darkness alone.
Summary: A nightmare leaves Logan shaken and his claws out. Convinced he’s a danger to you, he pushes you away… until you remind him that you’ve never been afraid of him.
Word count: 1,269
———————————————
The mansion was quiet.
For once, there were no training sessions, no missions, and no arguments echoing through the halls. Just darkness and silence.
You were curled against Logan’s side beneath the blankets, half asleep. One of his arms rested around your waist, warm and heavy. The steady rise and fall of his chest usually helped you drift off.
Logan wasn’t exactly known for being affectionate.
At least not around other people.
But when it was just the two of you, he was different. Softer. Gentler. A side of him that very few people ever got to see.
You were just beginning to fall into a deeper sleep when Logan suddenly jerked beside you.
At first, you thought he was simply moving around.
Then he growled.
The sound was low and rough, immediately pulling you awake.
You blinked in the darkness and turned toward him.
“Logan?”
He didn’t answer.
His breathing was uneven.
Fast.
The muscles in his body were completely rigid beneath the blankets.
You pushed yourself up onto one elbow, concern immediately replacing your sleepiness.
Moonlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating his face.
His expression was twisted in pain.
Fear.
Anger.
Like he was trapped somewhere far away.
Another growl escaped him.
Then—
SNIKT.
Your breath caught.
Three adamantium claws shot from each hand.
The metallic sound sliced through the silence of the room.
Logan’s head thrashed against the pillow.
“No…” he muttered.
His voice sounded strained.
Broken.
“Stop…”
Your heart sank.
A nightmare.
A bad one.
“Logan,” you said softly.
His breathing only became more frantic.
Sweat glistened across his forehead.
“No!”
The word exploded from him.
You carefully reached toward his shoulder.
“Logan, wake up.”
Nothing.
His body remained tense.
Trapped inside whatever memory was haunting him.
You knew enough about Logan’s past to understand that his nightmares weren’t ordinary ones.
They were memories.
Pieces of trauma that never truly left him.
The experiments.
The torture.
The violence.
The countless things he’d survived.
“Logan.”
You gently squeezed his shoulder.
His entire body jolted.
His eyes flew open.
For one terrifying second, pure panic flashed across his face.
Then his gaze landed on you.
And immediately dropped to where his claws were extended only inches away.
The colour drained from his face.
The claws retracted instantly.
“Shit.”
His voice was rough and hoarse.
You sat up fully.
“Hey. It’s okay.”
“No.”
Logan threw the blankets aside and climbed out of bed so fast it nearly startled you.
“It’s not.”
You watched him pace across the room.
His jaw was clenched.
His shoulders were tight.
Every muscle in his body looked tense.
“Logan—”
“I could’ve hurt you.”
The words came out sharp.
Angry.
Not at you.
At himself.
You slowly got out of bed.
“You didn’t.”
“But I could have.”
He spun around.
His eyes were wild.
Filled with guilt.
“You were right there.”
“Logan—”
“I lost control.”
“You were asleep.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
His voice rose.
Frustration poured from every word.
Years of self-hatred and fear bubbling to the surface.
“You don’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me.”
A bitter laugh escaped him.
The sound made your chest ache.
“I’ve spent most of my life hurting people.”
His gaze dropped to his hands.
The same hands that had protected you more times than you could count.
“You think I don’t know what I’m capable of?”
The room fell silent.
You slowly stepped toward him.
Immediately, Logan stepped back.
The movement hurt more than you wanted to admit.
“Don’t.”
Your stomach dropped.
“Don’t what?”
“Come closer.”
His voice cracked slightly.
And suddenly you realised what this was really about.
Fear.
Not fear of himself.
Fear of hurting you.
“You shouldn’t be this close to me.”
You stared at him.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
His eyes remained fixed on the floor.
“You ain’t safe with me.”
The words hung heavily in the room.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then you crossed the distance anyway.
Logan looked up immediately.
Frustration flashed across his face.
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?”
“I did.”
“Then why aren’t you listening?”
“Because you’re wrong.”
His jaw tightened.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
He let out an annoyed growl.
You reached for his hand.
Logan immediately tried pulling away.
You refused to let go.
“Look at me.”
He didn’t.
“Logan.”
Slowly, reluctantly, his eyes met yours.
The pain in them nearly broke your heart.
“I know exactly who you are.”
His expression hardened.
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
You squeezed his hand.
“I know you’re stubborn.”
A tiny twitch appeared at the corner of his mouth.
“I know you’re grumpy before coffee.”
His eyes rolled slightly.
“And I know you leave your boots in the middle of the floor every single day.”
“Those are tactical placements.”
You laughed softly.
“There he is.”
The smallest hint of a smile appeared on his face before disappearing again.
You stepped closer.
This time he didn’t move away.
“I know you care about people more than you pretend to.”
His gaze softened.
“I know you’d throw yourself in front of danger for any person in this mansion.”
You gently cupped his cheek.
“And I know you’d never hurt me.”
Logan closed his eyes.
“You can’t know that.”
“I do.”
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“What if one day you’re wrong?”
The vulnerability in that question shattered you.
This wasn’t about tonight.
This was years of believing he was a monster.
Years of carrying guilt that wasn’t his to carry.
You rested your forehead against his.
“You need to let me in.”
He stayed silent.
“You always try to handle everything alone.”
Your thumb brushed across his cheek.
“You don’t have to.”
For several long moments, neither of you moved.
The room was completely silent.
Then you whispered the words you knew he needed to hear.
“I love you, Logan.”
His eyes opened.
“You hear me?”
He nodded once.
Barely.
“I love all of you.”
A tearful smile appeared on your face.
“The good parts.”
The corner of his mouth twitched.
“The grumpy parts.”
A tiny smile followed.
“And the scared parts too.”
His shoulders finally relaxed.
The tension slowly drained from his body.
For the first time since waking up, he looked exhausted instead of angry.
“You deserve better than me.”
You immediately rolled your eyes.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The dramatic nonsense.”
A surprised laugh escaped him.
A real one.
Small, but genuine.
You smiled.
“There you are.”
Logan shook his head.
Then, without warning, he pulled you into his arms.
You wrapped yours around him instantly.
Holding him tightly.
His face buried itself in your hair.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
You simply stood there together.
Letting the nightmare fade.
Letting the fear pass.
Eventually, Logan sighed.
“You should get some sleep.”
“Only if you come with me.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“Bossy.”
“Yep.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“You’ve survived worse.”
Another laugh escaped him.
A few minutes later, the two of you were back in bed.
This time Logan practically dragged you against his chest.
His arm wrapped tightly around your waist.
Like he needed the reassurance as much as you did.
You snuggled closer.
Listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
“Feeling better?” you whispered.
A long pause followed.
Then you felt his lips press softly against the top of your head.
“Yeah.”
You smiled.
“Good.”
The room fell silent once more.
Safe, Warm and Peaceful.
As sleep finally pulled you both under again, Logan held you just a little tighter, knowing that for once, he didn’t have to face the darkness alone.
Summary: A nightmare leaves Logan shaken and his claws out. Convinced he’s a danger to you, he pushes you away… until you remind him that you’ve never been afraid of him.
Word count: 1,269
———————————————
The mansion was quiet.
For once, there were no training sessions, no missions, and no arguments echoing through the halls. Just darkness and silence.
You were curled against Logan’s side beneath the blankets, half asleep. One of his arms rested around your waist, warm and heavy. The steady rise and fall of his chest usually helped you drift off.
Logan wasn’t exactly known for being affectionate.
At least not around other people.
But when it was just the two of you, he was different. Softer. Gentler. A side of him that very few people ever got to see.
You were just beginning to fall into a deeper sleep when Logan suddenly jerked beside you.
At first, you thought he was simply moving around.
Then he growled.
The sound was low and rough, immediately pulling you awake.
You blinked in the darkness and turned toward him.
“Logan?”
He didn’t answer.
His breathing was uneven.
Fast.
The muscles in his body were completely rigid beneath the blankets.
You pushed yourself up onto one elbow, concern immediately replacing your sleepiness.
Moonlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating his face.
His expression was twisted in pain.
Fear.
Anger.
Like he was trapped somewhere far away.
Another growl escaped him.
Then—
SNIKT.
Your breath caught.
Three adamantium claws shot from each hand.
The metallic sound sliced through the silence of the room.
Logan’s head thrashed against the pillow.
“No…” he muttered.
His voice sounded strained.
Broken.
“Stop…”
Your heart sank.
A nightmare.
A bad one.
“Logan,” you said softly.
His breathing only became more frantic.
Sweat glistened across his forehead.
“No!”
The word exploded from him.
You carefully reached toward his shoulder.
“Logan, wake up.”
Nothing.
His body remained tense.
Trapped inside whatever memory was haunting him.
You knew enough about Logan’s past to understand that his nightmares weren’t ordinary ones.
They were memories.
Pieces of trauma that never truly left him.
The experiments.
The torture.
The violence.
The countless things he’d survived.
“Logan.”
You gently squeezed his shoulder.
His entire body jolted.
His eyes flew open.
For one terrifying second, pure panic flashed across his face.
Then his gaze landed on you.
And immediately dropped to where his claws were extended only inches away.
The colour drained from his face.
The claws retracted instantly.
“Shit.”
His voice was rough and hoarse.
You sat up fully.
“Hey. It’s okay.”
“No.”
Logan threw the blankets aside and climbed out of bed so fast it nearly startled you.
“It’s not.”
You watched him pace across the room.
His jaw was clenched.
His shoulders were tight.
Every muscle in his body looked tense.
“Logan—”
“I could’ve hurt you.”
The words came out sharp.
Angry.
Not at you.
At himself.
You slowly got out of bed.
“You didn’t.”
“But I could have.”
He spun around.
His eyes were wild.
Filled with guilt.
“You were right there.”
“Logan—”
“I lost control.”
“You were asleep.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
His voice rose.
Frustration poured from every word.
Years of self-hatred and fear bubbling to the surface.
“You don’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me.”
A bitter laugh escaped him.
The sound made your chest ache.
“I’ve spent most of my life hurting people.”
His gaze dropped to his hands.
The same hands that had protected you more times than you could count.
“You think I don’t know what I’m capable of?”
The room fell silent.
You slowly stepped toward him.
Immediately, Logan stepped back.
The movement hurt more than you wanted to admit.
“Don’t.”
Your stomach dropped.
“Don’t what?”
“Come closer.”
His voice cracked slightly.
And suddenly you realised what this was really about.
Fear.
Not fear of himself.
Fear of hurting you.
“You shouldn’t be this close to me.”
You stared at him.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
His eyes remained fixed on the floor.
“You ain’t safe with me.”
The words hung heavily in the room.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then you crossed the distance anyway.
Logan looked up immediately.
Frustration flashed across his face.
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?”
“I did.”
“Then why aren’t you listening?”
“Because you’re wrong.”
His jaw tightened.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
He let out an annoyed growl.
You reached for his hand.
Logan immediately tried pulling away.
You refused to let go.
“Look at me.”
He didn’t.
“Logan.”
Slowly, reluctantly, his eyes met yours.
The pain in them nearly broke your heart.
“I know exactly who you are.”
His expression hardened.
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
You squeezed his hand.
“I know you’re stubborn.”
A tiny twitch appeared at the corner of his mouth.
“I know you’re grumpy before coffee.”
His eyes rolled slightly.
“And I know you leave your boots in the middle of the floor every single day.”
“Those are tactical placements.”
You laughed softly.
“There he is.”
The smallest hint of a smile appeared on his face before disappearing again.
You stepped closer.
This time he didn’t move away.
“I know you care about people more than you pretend to.”
His gaze softened.
“I know you’d throw yourself in front of danger for any person in this mansion.”
You gently cupped his cheek.
“And I know you’d never hurt me.”
Logan closed his eyes.
“You can’t know that.”
“I do.”
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“What if one day you’re wrong?”
The vulnerability in that question shattered you.
This wasn’t about tonight.
This was years of believing he was a monster.
Years of carrying guilt that wasn’t his to carry.
You rested your forehead against his.
“You need to let me in.”
He stayed silent.
“You always try to handle everything alone.”
Your thumb brushed across his cheek.
“You don’t have to.”
For several long moments, neither of you moved.
The room was completely silent.
Then you whispered the words you knew he needed to hear.
“I love you, Logan.”
His eyes opened.
“You hear me?”
He nodded once.
Barely.
“I love all of you.”
A tearful smile appeared on your face.
“The good parts.”
The corner of his mouth twitched.
“The grumpy parts.”
A tiny smile followed.
“And the scared parts too.”
His shoulders finally relaxed.
The tension slowly drained from his body.
For the first time since waking up, he looked exhausted instead of angry.
“You deserve better than me.”
You immediately rolled your eyes.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The dramatic nonsense.”
A surprised laugh escaped him.
A real one.
Small, but genuine.
You smiled.
“There you are.”
Logan shook his head.
Then, without warning, he pulled you into his arms.
You wrapped yours around him instantly.
Holding him tightly.
His face buried itself in your hair.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
You simply stood there together.
Letting the nightmare fade.
Letting the fear pass.
Eventually, Logan sighed.
“You should get some sleep.”
“Only if you come with me.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“Bossy.”
“Yep.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“You’ve survived worse.”
Another laugh escaped him.
A few minutes later, the two of you were back in bed.
This time Logan practically dragged you against his chest.
His arm wrapped tightly around your waist.
Like he needed the reassurance as much as you did.
You snuggled closer.
Listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
“Feeling better?” you whispered.
A long pause followed.
Then you felt his lips press softly against the top of your head.
“Yeah.”
You smiled.
“Good.”
The room fell silent once more.
Safe, Warm and Peaceful.
As sleep finally pulled you both under again, Logan held you just a little tighter, knowing that for once, he didn’t have to face the darkness alone.
Summary: Peter can’t believe someone as calm and put together as you would ever date him, but despite being complete opposites, the two of you are ridiculously soft and in love.
Word count: 569
———————————————
It honestly confused everyone at first.
You and Peter made absolutely no sense on paper.
Peter Parker was awkward, clumsy, always running five minutes late with his curls sticking out in every direction possible. He tripped over air, forgot where he put his backpack at least twice a day, and got so nervous around pretty girls that he used to physically malfunction.
And you?
You were calm.
Soft-spoken. Organised. The type of person who folded receipts neatly into your purse and remembered everyone’s birthday. You liked quiet cafés, rainy afternoons, and keeping your room spotless. Your clothes were always perfectly coordinated, your handwriting looked printed, and you somehow never panicked about anything.
People expected you to get annoyed with Peter eventually.
But instead, you looked at him like he hung the stars.
And Peter looked at you like he couldn’t believe someone like you existed.
—
“You know,” Peter mumbled one evening, “I still think you accidentally agreed to date me.”
You looked up from where your head rested on his shoulder. “Peter.”
“I’m serious,” he said, laughing nervously. “Like… you’re you.” He gestured vaguely. “And I’m just some guy who almost got hit by a bike this morning because I got distracted by a dog.”
“You did get hit by the bike.”
“Okay, rude.”
You giggled softly, and Peter immediately lost his train of thought.
That kept happening lately.
You’d smile at him and suddenly he forgot how to function like a normal human being.
The two of you were curled up together on his bed while a movie played quietly in the background, though neither of you had paid attention to it for at least thirty minutes. Peter’s arm was around your waist while you absentmindedly played with his fingers.
It was still new.
That was the thing.
Peter still got surprised every time you reached for his hand first or kissed his cheek casually like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Because for so long, Peter thought love had to be loud and dramatic and complicated.
But with you, it was gentle.
Easy.
Safe.
“You’re staring again,” you teased quietly.
Peter blinked. “Sorry.”
“No you’re not.”
“…No, not really.”
Your laugh made his chest feel warm.
He leaned forward before he could overthink it, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead. You immediately melted closer into him, and Peter swore his heart almost exploded.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispered without thinking.
You buried your face into his hoodie instantly. “Don’t do that.”
“What? Tell the truth?”
“You make me shy.”
Peter grinned so hard his cheeks hurt.
“You know what’s crazy?” he said.
“What?”
“A few months ago I thought you were way too cool to even talk to me.”
You lifted your head just enough to look at him. “Peter, the first time we met, you dropped your entire backpack because I said hi.”
“In my defence, you were very pretty.”
“You called me ma’am.”
Peter groaned dramatically and hid his face in your shoulder. “Please don’t remind me.”
You laughed again, wrapping your arms around him tighter.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Just soft breathing. The movie still playing quietly. The warmth of each other.
And Peter realised this — this right here — was his favourite thing in the world.
Not swinging through New York.
Not being Spider-Man.
Just you, tangled up with him like you belonged there.
Currently making my way through every Marvel project ever and I’ve finally finished all the X-Men movies 🫡 So if anyone has any X-Men fic requests, feel free to send them my way <3
Summary: Peter can’t believe someone as calm and put together as you would ever date him, but despite being complete opposites, the two of you are ridiculously soft and in love.
Word count: 569
———————————————
It honestly confused everyone at first.
You and Peter made absolutely no sense on paper.
Peter Parker was awkward, clumsy, always running five minutes late with his curls sticking out in every direction possible. He tripped over air, forgot where he put his backpack at least twice a day, and got so nervous around pretty girls that he used to physically malfunction.
And you?
You were calm.
Soft-spoken. Organised. The type of person who folded receipts neatly into your purse and remembered everyone’s birthday. You liked quiet cafés, rainy afternoons, and keeping your room spotless. Your clothes were always perfectly coordinated, your handwriting looked printed, and you somehow never panicked about anything.
People expected you to get annoyed with Peter eventually.
But instead, you looked at him like he hung the stars.
And Peter looked at you like he couldn’t believe someone like you existed.
—
“You know,” Peter mumbled one evening, “I still think you accidentally agreed to date me.”
You looked up from where your head rested on his shoulder. “Peter.”
“I’m serious,” he said, laughing nervously. “Like… you’re you.” He gestured vaguely. “And I’m just some guy who almost got hit by a bike this morning because I got distracted by a dog.”
“You did get hit by the bike.”
“Okay, rude.”
You giggled softly, and Peter immediately lost his train of thought.
That kept happening lately.
You’d smile at him and suddenly he forgot how to function like a normal human being.
The two of you were curled up together on his bed while a movie played quietly in the background, though neither of you had paid attention to it for at least thirty minutes. Peter’s arm was around your waist while you absentmindedly played with his fingers.
It was still new.
That was the thing.
Peter still got surprised every time you reached for his hand first or kissed his cheek casually like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Because for so long, Peter thought love had to be loud and dramatic and complicated.
But with you, it was gentle.
Easy.
Safe.
“You’re staring again,” you teased quietly.
Peter blinked. “Sorry.”
“No you’re not.”
“…No, not really.”
Your laugh made his chest feel warm.
He leaned forward before he could overthink it, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead. You immediately melted closer into him, and Peter swore his heart almost exploded.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispered without thinking.
You buried your face into his hoodie instantly. “Don’t do that.”
“What? Tell the truth?”
“You make me shy.”
Peter grinned so hard his cheeks hurt.
“You know what’s crazy?” he said.
“What?”
“A few months ago I thought you were way too cool to even talk to me.”
You lifted your head just enough to look at him. “Peter, the first time we met, you dropped your entire backpack because I said hi.”
“In my defence, you were very pretty.”
“You called me ma’am.”
Peter groaned dramatically and hid his face in your shoulder. “Please don’t remind me.”
You laughed again, wrapping your arms around him tighter.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Just soft breathing. The movie still playing quietly. The warmth of each other.
And Peter realised this — this right here — was his favourite thing in the world.
Not swinging through New York.
Not being Spider-Man.
Just you, tangled up with him like you belonged there.
Summary: Peter can’t believe someone as calm and put together as you would ever date him, but despite being complete opposites, the two of you are ridiculously soft and in love.
Word count: 569
———————————————
It honestly confused everyone at first.
You and Peter made absolutely no sense on paper.
Peter Parker was awkward, clumsy, always running five minutes late with his curls sticking out in every direction possible. He tripped over air, forgot where he put his backpack at least twice a day, and got so nervous around pretty girls that he used to physically malfunction.
And you?
You were calm.
Soft-spoken. Organised. The type of person who folded receipts neatly into your purse and remembered everyone’s birthday. You liked quiet cafés, rainy afternoons, and keeping your room spotless. Your clothes were always perfectly coordinated, your handwriting looked printed, and you somehow never panicked about anything.
People expected you to get annoyed with Peter eventually.
But instead, you looked at him like he hung the stars.
And Peter looked at you like he couldn’t believe someone like you existed.
—
“You know,” Peter mumbled one evening, “I still think you accidentally agreed to date me.”
You looked up from where your head rested on his shoulder. “Peter.”
“I’m serious,” he said, laughing nervously. “Like… you’re you.” He gestured vaguely. “And I’m just some guy who almost got hit by a bike this morning because I got distracted by a dog.”
“You did get hit by the bike.”
“Okay, rude.”
You giggled softly, and Peter immediately lost his train of thought.
That kept happening lately.
You’d smile at him and suddenly he forgot how to function like a normal human being.
The two of you were curled up together on his bed while a movie played quietly in the background, though neither of you had paid attention to it for at least thirty minutes. Peter’s arm was around your waist while you absentmindedly played with his fingers.
It was still new.
That was the thing.
Peter still got surprised every time you reached for his hand first or kissed his cheek casually like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Because for so long, Peter thought love had to be loud and dramatic and complicated.
But with you, it was gentle.
Easy.
Safe.
“You’re staring again,” you teased quietly.
Peter blinked. “Sorry.”
“No you’re not.”
“…No, not really.”
Your laugh made his chest feel warm.
He leaned forward before he could overthink it, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead. You immediately melted closer into him, and Peter swore his heart almost exploded.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispered without thinking.
You buried your face into his hoodie instantly. “Don’t do that.”
“What? Tell the truth?”
“You make me shy.”
Peter grinned so hard his cheeks hurt.
“You know what’s crazy?” he said.
“What?”
“A few months ago I thought you were way too cool to even talk to me.”
You lifted your head just enough to look at him. “Peter, the first time we met, you dropped your entire backpack because I said hi.”
“In my defence, you were very pretty.”
“You called me ma’am.”
Peter groaned dramatically and hid his face in your shoulder. “Please don’t remind me.”
You laughed again, wrapping your arms around him tighter.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Just soft breathing. The movie still playing quietly. The warmth of each other.
And Peter realised this — this right here — was his favourite thing in the world.
Not swinging through New York.
Not being Spider-Man.
Just you, tangled up with him like you belonged there.
Summary: Peter can’t believe someone as calm and put together as you would ever date him, but despite being complete opposites, the two of you are ridiculously soft and in love.
Word count: 569
———————————————
It honestly confused everyone at first.
You and Peter made absolutely no sense on paper.
Peter Parker was awkward, clumsy, always running five minutes late with his curls sticking out in every direction possible. He tripped over air, forgot where he put his backpack at least twice a day, and got so nervous around pretty girls that he used to physically malfunction.
And you?
You were calm.
Soft-spoken. Organised. The type of person who folded receipts neatly into your purse and remembered everyone’s birthday. You liked quiet cafés, rainy afternoons, and keeping your room spotless. Your clothes were always perfectly coordinated, your handwriting looked printed, and you somehow never panicked about anything.
People expected you to get annoyed with Peter eventually.
But instead, you looked at him like he hung the stars.
And Peter looked at you like he couldn’t believe someone like you existed.
—
“You know,” Peter mumbled one evening, “I still think you accidentally agreed to date me.”
You looked up from where your head rested on his shoulder. “Peter.”
“I’m serious,” he said, laughing nervously. “Like… you’re you.” He gestured vaguely. “And I’m just some guy who almost got hit by a bike this morning because I got distracted by a dog.”
“You did get hit by the bike.”
“Okay, rude.”
You giggled softly, and Peter immediately lost his train of thought.
That kept happening lately.
You’d smile at him and suddenly he forgot how to function like a normal human being.
The two of you were curled up together on his bed while a movie played quietly in the background, though neither of you had paid attention to it for at least thirty minutes. Peter’s arm was around your waist while you absentmindedly played with his fingers.
It was still new.
That was the thing.
Peter still got surprised every time you reached for his hand first or kissed his cheek casually like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Because for so long, Peter thought love had to be loud and dramatic and complicated.
But with you, it was gentle.
Easy.
Safe.
“You’re staring again,” you teased quietly.
Peter blinked. “Sorry.”
“No you’re not.”
“…No, not really.”
Your laugh made his chest feel warm.
He leaned forward before he could overthink it, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead. You immediately melted closer into him, and Peter swore his heart almost exploded.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispered without thinking.
You buried your face into his hoodie instantly. “Don’t do that.”
“What? Tell the truth?”
“You make me shy.”
Peter grinned so hard his cheeks hurt.
“You know what’s crazy?” he said.
“What?”
“A few months ago I thought you were way too cool to even talk to me.”
You lifted your head just enough to look at him. “Peter, the first time we met, you dropped your entire backpack because I said hi.”
“In my defence, you were very pretty.”
“You called me ma’am.”
Peter groaned dramatically and hid his face in your shoulder. “Please don’t remind me.”
You laughed again, wrapping your arms around him tighter.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Just soft breathing. The movie still playing quietly. The warmth of each other.
And Peter realised this — this right here — was his favourite thing in the world.
Not swinging through New York.
Not being Spider-Man.
Just you, tangled up with him like you belonged there.
Summary: You, an exchange student, navigate school and a new country with your boyfriend Dae, who helps you study, translate, and makes everything feel a little more like home.
Word count: 939
———————————————
The first time you realise how much you rely on Dae Heon Kim, it’s over something small.
“Wait—what did she just say?” you whisper, leaning slightly closer to him as your teacher continues speaking at the front of the classroom.
Dae doesn’t even hesitate. He glances up, listens for a second, then leans in just enough for only you to hear. “She said the assignment’s due next week, not Friday.”
You let out a quiet sigh of relief. “Oh my god, thank you.”
He smiles softly, like it’s nothing. Like translating mid-lesson, guiding you through an entirely different language and school system, isn’t a big deal at all.
But to you, it is.
Because without him, you’d be completely lost.
———————————————
By the time classes end, you’re both heading to the library like it’s routine.
It kind of is, now.
Your books are stacked messily in your arms, and Dae reaches over without thinking, taking half of them before you can protest.
“I’ve got it,” you say.
“I know,” he replies, adjusting the pile easily. “But you don’t have to carry everything.”
You smile a little, letting him.
That’s the thing about him—he never makes it feel like you need help. Just that he wants to.
———————————————
The library is quiet, sunlight filtering through the windows in soft patterns across the tables. You settle into your usual spot, spreading out your notes while Dae sits across from you.
“Okay,” you say, tapping your textbook. “You’re going to have to explain this again.”
He laughs quietly. “Again?”
“Yes, again. Your school is harder than mine, I swear.”
“It’s not harder,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “It’s just different.”
“Different enough that I don’t understand half of it.”
He tilts his head, thinking for a moment before switching into English—slower this time, more careful. “Okay. So this part…” He points to your notes, breaking it down step by step, occasionally slipping back into Korean before catching himself and correcting.
You watch him as he explains—how focused he gets, how patient he is, how he checks your expression every few seconds to make sure you’re following.
“You’re a really good teacher,” you say suddenly.
He pauses, blinking. “I am?”
“Yeah.” You grin. “Way better than the actual teacher.”
He laughs, a little shy. “I don’t think that’s true.”
“It is,” you insist. “I’d fail without you.”
His smile softens. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would,” you say, nudging his foot lightly under the table. “So don’t go anywhere.”
He glances down at the small contact, then back up at you, something warm settling in his eyes. “I’m not planning to.”
———————————————
A couple hours pass like that—studying, talking, getting distracted, then pulling each other back on track.
At some point, you get stuck again, staring at a question that makes absolutely no sense.
“Dae,” you groan, dropping your pen. “Help.”
He leans over your shoulder this time instead of staying across from you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him beside you.
“Okay, let me see.”
His arm brushes yours as he points at the page, explaining it again, slower this time. You try to focus on the words, you really do—but it’s hard when he’s this close, when his voice is low and soft right by your ear.
“Do you get it now?” he asks.
“…Not really,” you admit, even though that’s not entirely true.
He smiles slightly. “You’re not even trying.”
“I am!”
“You’re distracted.”
You turn your head just enough to meet his eyes. “Maybe it’s your fault.”
He raises a brow. “My fault?”
“Yeah. You’re too good at explaining things. It’s… distracting.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It does to me.”
For a second, neither of you moves.
You’re close.
Closer than usual.
And suddenly, the library feels a lot smaller.
———————————————
He pulls back slightly, clearing his throat. “We should probably finish this.”
“Yeah,” you say, though your voice is softer now.
You both try.
You really do.
But the focus isn’t quite the same anymore.
———————————————
Later, as you pack up your things, the sun is already starting to set, casting everything in a warm, golden glow.
“Do you want me to walk you back?” Dae asks, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
“Always,” you say without thinking.
He smiles.
———————————————
The walk is quiet, comfortable. He points out little things as you go—places you haven’t noticed yet, shortcuts, small details about the campus and the city that you would’ve completely missed on your own.
“Over there,” he says, nodding toward a small café. “They have really good drinks. I’ll take you sometime.”
“I’d like that,” you say.
He glances at you, a soft smile forming. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You pause outside your dorm, turning to face him. “Thanks. For today. For… everything, really.”
He shakes his head lightly. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“I do,” you insist. “You make this whole thing a lot less scary.”
His expression softens in a way that makes your chest ache just a little.
“You make it easier for me too,” he says quietly.
You blink. “How?”
He hesitates, then smiles, a little shy. “I don’t know. You just do.”
Your heart flutters.
“Good,” you say softly.
There’s a moment—one of those quiet, almost something moments—before you step back.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you ask.
“Yeah,” he says. “Tomorrow.”
And as you head inside, you can’t help the small smile on your face.
Because even in a place that still feels unfamiliar, with a language you’re still learning and a life you’re still adjusting to—
Hi so I’m new to your blog but I deadass love your writing so imagine a min ho and kitty x reader where they both like her and it’s a real love triangle and they all are just like why chose when we all like each other and all get together please please (if you don’t it’s totally okay and I’ll read whatever you post regardless) ❤️❤️❤️
I love this! I’ve never actually saw a Minho x Kitty x Reader fic… thank u for the idea pookie
Summary: You and Minho both have a crush on Kitty —but things get complicated when you start developing feelings for each other too, leading to an unexpected but perfect solution.
Word count: 1,442
———————————————
The first time you realize you like Kitty Song Covey, it’s not dramatic.
It’s quiet.
She’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, rambling about something—some plan, some idea, something chaotic and completely her—and you’re not even fully listening. Not because you don’t care, but because you’re too focused on the way her eyes light up when she talks. The way she gestures with her hands. The way she feels everything so openly.
You think, distantly, oh.
And then, oh no.
Because there’s no going back from that.
———————————————
You try to ignore it at first.
You tell yourself it’s just admiration. That everyone loves Kitty, in one way or another. That it’s normal to feel drawn to her energy.
But then she grabs your hand one day without thinking, pulling you along to show you something, and your heart stutters so hard it’s embarrassing.
And that’s when you know.
———————————————
What you don’t expect is this:
“You like her.”
You nearly choke on your drink.
You turn slowly to look at Minho, who’s leaning against the railing beside you, watching you with that knowing expression you’ve come to both hate and… strangely trust.
“I—what?” you say, far too quickly.
He raises an eyebrow. “You’re not subtle.”
“I am subtle,” you argue.
“You stare at her like she hung the moon.”
Your face burns. “I do not.”
He doesn’t even respond—just gives you a look.
You groan, dropping your head into your hands. “Oh my god.”
There’s a pause.
Then, quieter—
“So do you.”
You peek up at him.
He’s not looking at you anymore.
He’s looking at her.
Kitty, across the courtyard, laughing at something someone said, completely unaware.
Something shifts.
“You like her,” you repeat.
He exhales softly, like he didn’t mean to let that slip. “Yeah.”
You stare at him.
This is… unexpected.
Minho isn’t exactly the type to admit things like that. Not easily. Not without a layer of sarcasm or deflection.
But right now, he looks… honest.
A little unsure.
And that throws you more than anything.
———————————————
It becomes a thing after that.
Not official. Not spoken about directly.
But you and Minho—somehow—you start orbiting the same secret.
You notice things.
The way he softens around her, even if he pretends not to.
The way you both end up in the same places, watching her, helping her, being pulled into her chaos.
Sometimes your eyes meet across a room, and there’s this silent understanding.
Yeah. Me too.
And weirdly… it brings you closer.
———————————————
It starts small.
Late-night conversations.
Accidental lingering.
You’re sitting side by side one evening, waiting for Kitty who’s, unsurprisingly, late, when Minho nudges your shoulder lightly.
“You’re thinking about her again.”
You sigh. “Am I that obvious?”
“To me? Yeah.”
You glance at him. “You are too, you know.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “Great.”
There’s a pause.
Then—
“Do you think she’d ever… like us back?”
The question hangs in the air.
You hesitate. “I don’t know.”
He nods slightly, like he expected that answer.
But neither of you moves away.
———————————————
Somewhere along the way, something changes.
It’s subtle at first.
You start noticing him more.
The way he leans closer when you talk.
The way he remembers little things you say.
The way he’s softer with you when no one else is around.
It catches you off guard.
One night, you’re both sitting on the floor of his room, sharing snacks and half-watching something on his laptop.
Kitty had been there earlier, all laughter and energy, before leaving with a quick hug and a promise to see you tomorrow.
Now it’s just the two of you.
Quieter.
Slower.
“You’re staring,” he says without looking away from the screen.
You blink. “I’m not.”
He turns his head slightly, catching you immediately. “You are.”
You roll your eyes, but your heart’s beating faster than it should be. “Maybe I was just thinking.”
“About her?”
The question is automatic.
But something about it feels different.
You hesitate.
“…Not just her.”
That gets his attention.
He turns fully now, studying your face. “What does that mean?”
You shrug, suddenly nervous. “Nothing.”
“Don’t do that,” he says quietly.
“Do what?”
“Say something and then pretend you didn’t.”
You look at him.
Really look at him.
And for a second, everything feels too close.
Too real.
“I think…” you start, then stop.
He waits.
You swallow. “I think maybe I don’t just like her anymore.”
Silence.
His expression shifts, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “What?”
“I don’t know,” you rush out. “It’s confusing, okay? I still like her, obviously, but—”
“But?”
You exhale shakily. “But I think I might… like you too.”
The words feel heavier once they’re out.
Final.
You expect him to pull away. To laugh it off. To make a joke.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he just stares at you.
Processing.
“…Oh,” he says finally.
“Yeah,” you mumble.
Another pause.
And then—
“I think I like you too.”
Your head snaps up. “What?”
He lets out a small, almost disbelieving laugh. “This is… complicated.”
“You’re telling me.”
“But I still like her,” he adds quickly.
“I know. Me too.”
You both fall quiet.
Because now what?
———————————————
The answer comes sooner than expected.
It’s Kitty.
Of course it is.
She notices everything.
Maybe not right away, but eventually—inevitably—she puts the pieces together.
The looks.
The tension.
The way you and Minho have been acting lately.
One evening, she corners both of you at once, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed.
“Okay,” she says. “Something is going on.”
You and Minho exchange a glance.
“Nothing’s going on,” he says.
“Don’t lie to me,” she shoots back. “You’re both being weird.”
“We’re not—”
“You are,” she insists. Then she points between the two of you. “And it’s not just you two. It’s… everything.”
Your heart starts racing.
Minho shifts beside you. “Kitty—”
“No,” she says, softer now. “Just… tell me. Please.”
You look at him.
He looks at you.
And somehow, without saying anything, you both decide at the same time.
Honesty.
“I like you,” you say.
“I like you too,” Minho adds.
Kitty blinks.
Then blinks again.
“…Okay,” she says slowly. “That part I kind of guessed.”
You hesitate. “There’s more.”
Her eyes flick between you.
“We…” you start, then falter.
Minho picks it up. “We also… like each other.”
Silence.
You brace yourself.
For confusion. For rejection. For everything to fall apart.
Instead—
Kitty laughs.
Not mockingly.
Not awkwardly.
Just… surprised.
“Wait,” she says, a smile breaking across her face. “So you both like me… and each other?”
You nod, feeling your face heat up. “Yeah.”
She looks between you again, something soft and thoughtful settling in her expression.
“That’s… kind of amazing,” she admits.
You blink. “It is?”
“I mean—” she gestures vaguely. “Why does it have to be complicated?”
Minho frowns slightly. “What do you mean?”
She shrugs, stepping closer. “I like you too.”
Both of you freeze.
“What?” you and Minho say at the same time.
She grins. “Yeah. I like you. And you.” She points at each of you. “So if we all like each other… why are we acting like we have to choose?”
The words hit you like a wave.
You glance at Minho.
He looks just as stunned.
“Kitty,” he says slowly, “that’s not… how this usually works.”
“Maybe it should be,” she counters.
You laugh nervously. “You’re serious?”
“Completely.”
She steps even closer now, taking your hand in one of hers and Minho’s in the other.
Your heart is racing so fast you’re not sure you can think straight.
“I don’t want to choose,” she says softly. “I like both of you. And you like each other too, which is kind of perfect, actually.”
Minho looks at you.
You look at him.
And for the first time, this doesn’t feel impossible.
It feels… right.
“…Are we really considering this?” you ask quietly.
He lets out a breath, then gives you a small, almost shy smile. “I think we are.”
Kitty beams. “So?”
You squeeze her hand.
Then his.
“…So we don’t choose,” you say.
Minho nods. “We don’t choose.”
Kitty grins. “Good. Because I really didn’t want to.”
———————————————
It’s not perfect.
It’s not simple.
But it works.
Because it’s you.
All of you.
There are moments—soft, quiet, shared between two or all three of you.
Kitty’s laughter filling the space between you.
Minho’s hand brushing yours, steady and grounding.
Your head on Kitty’s shoulder while Minho leans against you both.
It’s different.
But it’s real.
And for the first time, nothing feels confusing anymore.
Summery: You and Minho get stuck sharing one bed on a school trip, and your constant bickering turns into a confession—and something more.
Word count: 1,976
Notes: tumblr did me dirty marking this mature… it’s just some kisses lol
———————————————
The bus ride is loud, chaotic, and way too early for the amount of energy everyone seems to have.
You’re half-awake, forehead pressed against the cool window, watching the city fade into something greener as the class trip officially begins. Someone’s playing music from the back, people are swapping seats, laughing, shouting—
—and then there’s him.
Minho.
Of course.
He’s two rows behind you, voice cutting through the noise like it always does—confident, a little smug, way too comfortable for someone who gets under your skin this easily.
You don’t turn around. You don’t need to. You can practically feel him.
And somehow, that already sets the tone for the trip.
———————————————
By the time you reach the hotel, everyone’s buzzing again—grabbing bags, stretching, crowding around the teacher for room assignments.
“Okay,” your teacher calls out, clipboard in hand. “Same as usual. Boys share, girls share. I’ll read out the pairs.”
Easy. Simple. Normal.
You barely pay attention at first, chatting with your friend, until names start getting called and people begin peeling off with their assigned roommates.
“…and—”
There’s a pause.
You frown slightly.
“…Minho—”
You freeze.
“—and… you.”
Silence.
Actual, full, unmistakable silence.
Your head snaps up. “What?”
At the exact same time, Minho’s voice cuts in—“There’s no way.”
Everyone starts talking at once.
“That’s so weird—”
“Wait, what?”
“Did they run out of rooms?”
“There must be a mistake,” you say quickly, stepping forward.
Minho’s already there. “Yeah, obviously. Fix it.”
Your teacher frowns at the list. “We’re short on rooms. This is the only option unless someone volunteers to switch.”
No one speaks.
Not a single person.
You scan the group, horrified. Traitors. All of them.
Minho exhales sharply beside you. “Unbelievable.”
“Tell me about it,” you mutter.
Your teacher hands him the key. “It’s just one night.”
You stare at the key like it personally offended you.
One night.
With him.
———————————————
The walk to the room is painfully quiet.
Not the comfortable kind. Not even the awkward kind.
The tense kind.
Minho’s walking slightly ahead of you, bag slung over his shoulder, like this doesn’t bother him at all. Like he didn’t just get stuck in the worst possible situation.
You roll your eyes, picking up your pace.
“Well?” you say. “Are you going to say something or just pretend this is normal?”
He glances back at you. “What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Anything? This is weird.”
“It’s only weird if you make it weird.”
You stop walking. “Oh my god.”
He turns fully now, raising an eyebrow. “What?”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re dramatic.”
“Dramatic?” you repeat. “We are sharing a room. Alone.”
