#sharpest tool

Sharpest Tool

Logan Huntzberger x fem!reader

Summary: in which, the smart yale boy isn't the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to relationships.

Warnings: sexual references, rory is kind of a villian (but so is Logan), angst,

Wordcount: 0.7k

Masterlist, Short n'Sweet Series

She had been warned, by almost everyone. She should’ve known.

We know that they clearly aren’t just fucking eachother anymore but they both veer in different directions and say things that can be misleading/misunderstood easily especially within the framework of - we aren’t supposed to catch feelings - we’re “nothing”. They’re both second guessing the context of their “relationship” and it’s years of lying to themselves and each other about what they have between them. It’s years of knowing it’s not casual, but feeling like an idiot for wanting/expecting more.

It’s of Shane’s perspective of when Ilya pulls back and leaves him hanging without a word, because Ilya IS confused and it clearly upsets Shane. Ilya keeps giving mixed signals whether they’re moving forward or taking steps backwards. He invites Shane to stay, cuddles, cooks, and gives him his favourite ginger ale. Ilya then talks about the girls he likes/has available to him and how he doesn’t really like Shane’s “boring” personality; but he does love to fuck him.

Shane clearly wants to comfort him after the phone call with his Dad and he does it through sex because “they don’t talk about it” and when Ilya calls him Shane, he realizes it’s not casual. It’s explicitly no longer casual for either of them after he says Ilya’s name and with all the mixed signals he’s stuck panicking (as an already anxious guy, it’s kinda understandable). But, they never talk about it and it goes back to silence that suffocates them and traps the other at the forefront of their mind, no matter how hard they try to think of other things or people.

🎶

I don't hear a word 'til your guilt creeps in

On a Tuesday, send a soft "Hey"

As if you really don't recall the time

We were going right, then you took a left

Left me with a lot of shit to second guess

Guess I'll waste another year on wondering if

If that was casual, then I'm an idiot

I'm looking for an answer in between the lines

Lying to yourself if you think we're fine

You're confused and I'm upset

But we never talk about it

We never talk about it

We never talk about it

All the silence just makes it worse, really

'Cause it leaves you so top of mind for me

All the silence is just your strategy

'Cause it leaves you so top of mind for me

✧.* content warning: angst (like usual)

✧.* w/c : 935

✧.* n/a : this is the shit I think about at 1am fr, inspired by moms sabrina

✧.* tagline : @sugurus-thoughts ;

“You’re confused and I’m upset.”

₊ ⊹ 🫐 ✧ ˚i

It all started with Gojo Satoru’s signature charm, the kind that made it easy to ignore the red flags waving in the distance.

He wasn’t the most emotionally intuitive person — that much was clear from the beginning.

“I know you’re not the sharpest tool in the shed.”

It was part of his charm, you’d tell yourself. His carefree attitude, his inability to take anything too seriously. It kept him lighthearted when the world was unbearably heavy, and for a while, you appreciated it.

But over time, that same obliviousness that drew you in started to wear on you. You’d pour your heart out, trying to reach him, and he’d respond with a distracted smile or a half-hearted, “What? Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

We had sex, I met your best friends.

It had started out as fun, lighthearted and easy. Gojo had introduced you to his world with no hesitation.

“Geto, Shoko—meet my new favorite person,” he’d said, grinning as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

Geto had raised an eyebrow, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “Satoru’s favorite person? That’s quite the title.”

You’d laughed, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your cheeks. For a while, being with Gojo felt like you were part of something bigger.

But as much as you tried to believe in his sincerity, there was always a nagging doubt in the back of your mind.

I don’t hear a word ’til your guilt creeps in.

And then, the pattern began.

When things got too close, too real, he pulled away. It would start with a missed text, a canceled plan. Then days would stretch into weeks, the silence between you growing heavier with every passing moment.

Until finally, his guilt would pull him back.

“Hey,” he’d text, the word so soft, so casual, like he hadn’t left you hanging on the edge of uncertainty. And like clockwork, you’d let him back in.

We were going right, then you took a left.

Left me with a lot of shit to second guess.

You tried to tell yourself it was normal, that relationships weren’t always perfect. But every time things felt stable, he’d throw you off balance again.

One day he was all in — laughing with you, holding you like you were his entire world. The next, he was cold, distant, unreachable.

“Do you even want this?” you’d asked him one night, your voice barely above a whisper.

His response had been a shrug, followed by a deflective joke that made your heart ache.

Guess I’ll waste another year on wondering if.

If that was casual, then I’m an idiot.

The more time you spent with Gojo, the more you questioned yourself. You hated the power he had over you, the way he could make you feel like the most important person in his life one moment and an afterthought the next.

“Do I mean anything to you?” you’d asked once, your voice trembling under the weight of your insecurities.

He’d looked at you like you’d asked the most ridiculous question in the world. “Of course, you do,” he’d said, and for a moment, you believed him.

Lying to yourself if you think we’re fine.

You’re confused and I’m upset.

You wanted so badly to believe that the two of you could work, but the cracks were impossible to ignore. Gojo’s avoidance, his inability to talk about anything serious, his constant retreat into his own world — it was suffocating.

“Why can’t we ever just talk about this?” you’d asked one night, frustration spilling out of you.

But he’d only shrugged, brushing you off like he always did.

All the silence just makes it worse, really.

’Cause it leaves you so top of mind for me.

The silence between you was deafening. Every time he left, he took a piece of you with him, and every time he came back, you let him in.

You hated how much space he took up in your mind, how his absence seemed louder than his presence ever was.

We never talk about how you found God at your ex’s house.

Always made sure that the phone was face down.

You didn’t want to believe the rumors at first, but the signs were impossible to ignore. The phone always face down. The late nights with no explanation. The way he’d flinch whenever you asked where he’d been.

When you finally confronted him, he didn’t deny it.

“You’re overthinking this,” he’d said, his tone so dismissive it made your chest tighten.

“Am I?” you shot back. “Because it feels like I’m the only one thinking about this at all.”

“Seems like overnight, I’m just the bitch you hate now.”

The change was sudden, like flipping a switch. One day he was teasing you, kissing you, pulling you into his orbit. The next, he was cold, distant, treating you like you were the problem.

It was like he’d decided overnight that you weren’t worth his time anymore. And the worst part was, you couldn’t even figure out why.

We never talk it through.

How you guilt-tripped me to open up to you.

Then you logged out, leaving me dumbfounded, ooh.

You replayed every conversation, every moment you’d let yourself be vulnerable with him. You’d let him in, trusted him with parts of yourself you didn’t share with anyone else.

And he’d taken that trust and left you with nothing but silence.

You wanted to scream, to demand answers, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain he’d caused you. But every time you tried, the words caught in your throat.