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asxgard · 1 month ago

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AHHHHH maybe Jack having his wife and son come into the ER after a little incident at baseball practice 😭 just something a little angsty and fluffy but I love soft Jack Abbot! Your writing is so amazing, keep it up and if this doesn’t interest you please feel free to ignore.

Cast | one shot

Dr. Jack Abbot x wife!reader

Requested

Summary: After an incident at baseball practice, you and your son end up in the ER.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: Thank you, anon!! I’m giving Jack a child stat! Omg, the world needs more dad!Abbot. I hope this was equally angsty and fluffy enough for you!

Word Count: 1.6k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content.

Warnings: vague age gap, foul language, mild angst, injured child (non-life threatening), fluff, dad!Jack, mom!reader, reader has Jack’s surname, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, blood mentions

not beta read

You only looked away for a second, reaching into your bag to put your book away, and the next your son was screaming. Your head snapped to look at the field and you spotted him in the outfield, clutching his arm. You were out of your seat the next second and charging onto the baseball field. You beat the coaches there.

Steven was wailing, though you could hardly blame the six-year-old, and you felt like your heart had stopped, listening to him in so much pain. Clearly he had been hurt, but he had no obvious signs of injury other than the fact that he was clutching his arm tightly to his chest.

You tried your best to soothe him, calm him down, but your own fears had begun to cloud your mind. If it was not broken, it had to be a sprain. There was a lingering sense of dread, of fear kicked into overdrive, but if it was a break, then at least that was not life-threatening.

Your first instinct other than to comfort your child was to call your husband. You first wanted to get Steven into the car so you could get him to the hospital, so you tucked your phone into your pants pocket and helped him to his feet.

“I know it’s really painful, baby, but mommy is going to make it better, okay?” You attempted, “Do you want me to carry you? Can you walk?”

Steven finally took a long intake of air, cheeks damp. He huffed in a few more unsteady breaths in, his lips in a large pout. The hazel in his eyes was exactly like his father’s.

“I can—I can walk.” He said, face scrunched up.

You admired how strong he was being, but you wanted to wrap your arms around him and never let go. You helped him to the car, trying to position his arm against his chest with the elbow bent without causing any more pain.

“We’re gonna go to the hospital now, and I promise it’ll make you all better.”

You were overly thankful that Steven had been in the hospital enough to not be afraid of it — from picking up his father, to the odd days you needed to drop him off before the end of your husband’s shift so you could get to an early meeting, leaving him in the caring hands of one of the nurses.

Steven was still softly crying when you called your husband, and you found yourself unbelievably annoyed when he didn’t pick up. He nearly always did, always panicked that something might have happened. You hated that was how he reacted when you called him at work, but to be fair, you usually only texted him about things. The one time you actually needed him to pick up? Voicemail.

You tried to calm your own frustration, knowing he was likely in a trauma or something equally serious. Despite all his faults, he never ignored you on purpose.

In the waiting room, you found yourself relieved to see Lupe running registration. She recognized you instantly. Her eyes flickered from you to Steven’s tears.

“I think he broke his arm,” you told her, frowning, “can you get Jack? I couldn’t reach him.”

“I think he’s still in Trauma-1, but I’ll get someone to bring you back right away, Mrs. Abbot.” She nodded, disappearing into the back.

That explained it. Whatever he was doing, it was life threatening, but you still felt antsy to tell him.

It was Collins who came through the door within the next minute, eyes scanning for you. Looking at the time, she was likely rounding out her shift, but it was good to see her. She smiled when she saw you, before looking down at Steven and frowning.

“Let’s get you two into a room,” she said, ushering you into the back with her. “I’ll put him down for an x-ray, but I’ll go see about getting him bumped to the top.”

“Thank you.” You smiled at her. Oh the perks of being married to Jack Abbot.

Collins parked you both in an open room, mentioning someone would be in shortly to start some pain meds while she worked on getting Steven to x-ray. A figure passing by stopped short and stepped into the room.

You greeted Robby with a smile. You two were no strangers, Robby occasionally coming by your house to hang out with Jack. He took one look at you and another at Steven, and panic invaded his calm demeanor.

“Broken arm, I think,” you told him quickly, so his mind didn’t run to the worst case scenario. He was much like Jack in that way.

“Hey, buddy,” Robby said, stealing Steven’s attention. “Can I see your arm?”

Robby assessed your son gently, before ordering intravenous pain meds and administering them.

“Heather is trying to get him into x-ray.”

He nodded, “Jack know yet?”

You shrugged, “I heard he was in the middle of a trauma.”

“I’ll go switch out with him,”

“Thank you, Robby.”

He waved you off and disappeared out into the hall.

—

Due to a mild hiccup, Jack had come into work earlier than usual — missing his son’s baseball practice that evening. He went when he could, but he tried to never miss a game. The Pitt seemed to swallow most of his time, but he never let it steal those moments with his son.

After clocking in, he was thrown right into a major car vs pedestrian trauma, but he fell into it with practiced ease. The buzzing phone in his pocket made him a bit on edge, but with gloved hands soaked in blood, he did not even think to answer it.

It took forever to stabilize the pedestrian who had been hit, but they finally were wheeled up to pre-op and he discarded the bloodied gown. He reached into his pocket to check his phone, finding two missed calls from his wife and a voicemail. His stomach churned uneasily.

He stepped toward the charge desk to put a chart away, glancing up at the board out of habit, before turning toward the staff lounge so he could call you back.

Wait…

His eyes snapped back up to the board, scanning the names and stopping on his son’s.

Steven Abbot.

His heart lurched into his throat. Fuck. He saw the room number and turned, only to find Robby next to him.

“Hey, brother,”

Jack barreled past him toward Central-8, heart beating wildly against his ribcage. He hadn’t even checked what prognosis sat besides his son’s name, or the level of severity, there was just pure instinct to be with him.

Robby jogged to catch up with him, “He’s fine, he’s fine. Broken arm. Was just coming to get you.”

That settled some of his fears, but worry bled through every pore. The one time he did not answer his phone…

His wife’s face did wonders to soothe him, as did the fact that his son was sat back and playing on his wife’s phone, arm in a sling. He released a long breath.

“Dad!”

Jack wrapped his son up in a hug, careful not to put any pressure on his arm.

“Hey, buddy, how do you feel?”

Steven gave a toothy smile, “Better after Uncle Robby gave me medicine.”

A relief washed over Jack’s features, eyeing the IV in his uninjured arm. He kissed the top of his son’s head, turning back to Robby just as Collins stepped into the doorway.

“They’ll be taking him next,” she said.

“Thank you, Heather.” You said.

“Don’t mention it.” She told you with a smile. “Just glad the little man is okay.”

Robby and Collins departed, leaving just you and Jack with your son. You typically were rigid around screen time, but felt being in the hospital was a perfect time to be lenient.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer—”

“It’s fine, Jack,” you told him, grabbing his hand from the gurney. “I know you were busy. Besides, you couldn’t have done anything on the phone anyways.”

He frowned, “But you called and I didn’t answer. I could’ve—”

You sighed, “Had it been more serious, I would’ve called an ambulance, or tried to reach out to Robby or Dana or whomever to let you know. Our son is okay. Let’s not focus on the what ifs.”

Jack sat on that for a moment, before rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re still a good father, Jack.” You said, as if you could hear the thoughts racing through his head.

His hazel eyes snapped to yours, taking you in.

“I mean it,” you said in the silence. “Don’t let your mind trick you into thinking otherwise.”

“I love you.” Jack said, not fully knowing how else to put his feelings into words. His gratitude, his care, his love.

You smiled easily, already understanding what he meant, all he meant, “As I love you.”

He leaned over to kiss you softly and you smiled against his mouth.

Steven made a sound of disgust, shielding his eyes with a soft giggle. You laughed, moving to kiss your son’s forehead. Jack’s heart swelled.

The x-ray revealed that his arm had been broken, likely by falling on it wrong, but it was not serious enough for surgery. That fact relieved both you and Jack tremendously. Just a quick pull to put the bone back right and a cast for five weeks.

“So what color would you like, Stevie?” Jack asked, sitting down beside your son. “They’ve got blue, yellow, pink, green—”

“Green!” Steven yelled happily.

You chuckled at his excitement over his cast.

“Do you think everyone will sign it?” He asked, toothy grin wide.

That ‘look on the bright side of things’ definitely came from you, Jack thought with a smile.

“I’m sure they will, bud.”

All Dr. Abbot content taglist: @flyinglama @valhallavalkyrie9 @melancholyy-hill @travelingmypassion @sharkluver @yournerdmodziata

All The Pitt content taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc @thatchickwiththecamera @sharkluver

Dad!Abbot?? Give it to meee

Also?? 500+ followers?? You guys are great!🥹

#the pitt #jack abbott #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #dr jack abbot #the pitt x reader #asxgard writes #requested

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caramel-ribbons · 2 years ago

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I just watched Avatar for the first time all the way through, and yeah, it’s great, but the one thing that surprised me was how different Katara was compared to the fandom interpretation I’d seen and internalized before watching.

Like, before you watch Avatar, you’ve seen all these memes about Katara and her mom, and based on those memes, you assume it’s one of those lines you have to get used to hearing at least once every episode. But then you watch the show and realize that she only talks about her mom maybe five or six times per season and you also realize she only brings her up when she’s trying to comfort someone or empathize with them because that’s how she processes her grief and that’s one way she connects with people.

Or you hear the infamous line, “then you didn’t love [our mother] the way I did” and you prepare yourself for one of the worst character assassinations ever only to see the scene after nearly three seasons worth of context and realize she was kinda right. She’s been the mother, the nurturer, the comforter. She’s been patient, gentle, and accommodating where everyone else has gotten to be insensible and reckless and childish, and the one moment where she allows herself to feel her grief, suddenly she’s this evil bitch and not, y’know, a 14 year old girl whose been thrusted into adulthood in a way no other character has. A 14 year old girl who should be allowed immaturity and raw emotion and anger instead of the patience and grace she’s been forced to extend to every character without even the smallest amount of gratitude or even consideration in return.

Or you see all of the clips where Katara puts Aang in the “friendzone” and you expect to have this wishy washy back and forth where Aang is putting his feelings out there only to have Katara neither commit nor express any clear reciprocation or rejection. Then you watch and realize that, as cute as the ship is initially, that there’s never a point where Aang returns any comfort or grace to Katara despite her always doing this for him to the point of coddling. That for as much as Aang says he loves her, he never seems to outgrow his perception of her so he can recognize her as someone who feels grief, anger, and pain as much as she expresses love, kindness, and maturity. And instead of having moments where he learns to see her beyond her strength or compassion, you’re instead given moments where Aang forces his feelings onto her, both romantic and non-romantic, and Katara is expected to just…shoulder those feelings the way she shoulders everyone else’s.

Katara is the most misunderstood character in the show. As much as people recognize the complexities of Zuko, Sokka, and Azula, they struggle to do the same for Katara because they see her struggles as somehow lesser, and therefore, less deserving of sympathy. They can handle her so long as she’s being endlessly patient and loving and kind, but the moment her endless love, patience, and kindness runs out, she’s suddenly this annoying bitch who can’t shut up about her mother or reciprocate Aang’s feelings. But Katara’s trauma does matter as much as anyone else’s. No, she wasn’t banished from her kingdom. No, she didn’t lose her entire community, and no, she isn’t the only one who lost her mother. But the difference between her and everyone else whose experienced loss because of the Fire Nation is that she’s never given time to process her trauma. Aang gets to lean on Katara constantly. Toph gets to express her feelings to Katara, and yeah, Sokka also lost their mother, but unlike Katara, he isn’t put in the position of being a substitute for everyone’s parent. He even admits that he sees his sister as a mother. The only characters who ever comfort Katara or allow her to vent is Zuko and her father and that’s, like, three scenes in a show where the other characters are consistently given opportunities to seek out Katara for unconditional support.

The fandom interpretation of Katara has been so bastardized that even those who haven’t watched the show know her for this fanon version and not for who she is. She’s such an interesting character beyond her fandom limitations, though. She’s brave, hot-headed, and hopeful as well as gentle and caring. She wishes to learn waterbending, not only because she wants to fight in the war, but because she wants to continue her culture’s practices because, and people often forget this, she also lost an entire subculture within her already fractured tribe. And she wants to defeat the Fire Nation both because of her deep love and empathy for other people, but also because she wants to avenge her mother. But because some of the fans have reduced Katara to a bitch who constantly whines about her mother and friendzones Aang, you wouldn’t know any of this, and it sucks because she’s the only character whose been dumbed down to such an extent.

#avatar the last airbender #avatar #katara #you can tell she’s my favorite character #female character #zutara #I’m not anti or pro either #just something I noticed #I’m not against Aang either #just this writing

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critterbitter · 1 year ago

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The twins and their starters may have grown slightly taller, but their love of shenanigans have tripled, no, quadrupled in size.

On that note did you know Eelectrik has a glow animation?? Perfect nightlight eel. Absolute gold standard for creature. Click here for the masterlist!

Bonus shitpost under cut ft @birdsaretoddlers’s incredible take.

(plus a fanfic drabble that birds did while we were discussing in chat! Check out their funny writing @birdsaretoddlers) “Lam lam pentttt. Lam.”

“Language. I am not calling them that. This is a civil discussion about the capacity of a 284 Berkshire’s firebox, not a playground argument.”

“Lammm Pent.”

“If you possess my phone I will have to put you in time-out in your ball, and neither of us will like that.”

The argument over a literal online flame war was cut short by the door flying open, one of the hinges breaking off with the force and flying somewhere into the aether, never to be seen again. Or at least, not without a strong magnet.

Emmet stood there, proudly, holding his newly-evolved Eelektrik, his grin a mile wide. Ingo picked his heart up out of his femoral artery, where it had lodged itself, and gently removed Lampent from where she hid, hanging over his shoulder. Emmet stood there, eyes twinkling, clearly ready to perform the coveted Bit. Ingo opened his mouth, got halfway through a word, and his twin took the proffered delight of cutting him off.

“I am Emmet and I discovered something INCREDIBLE. INGO LOOK.”

Ingo looked, because what else was he going to do? He would allow his twin to complete his circus act, it was only proper and polite. Eelektrik trilled with delight. Emmet twirled like the best of Nimbasan runway models, clearly wrestling his eel, cooing platitudes to it as he writhed and squirmed to get it into position.

“Me beautiful slimy baby, my beloved pool noodle, my beeesstt conductor!~” Doing something that could generously be called ‘dislocating his shoulders’, Emmet managed to get his eel flipped up and around his neck. He flopped forwards, bonelessly, tipping his hat and giggling madly. He was grinning harder than normal. Ingo was a little scared.

“But now, Eelektrik can do MORE. OBSERVE.”

He threw his shoulders back, standing up as tall as he could, somehow not throwing himself ass-first onto the floor as the fifty pounds of eel he was currently deadlifting remained stationary over his neck. Emmet’s arms flew upwards and out, rocking back and forth in jazz hands. Eelektrik frilled its fans, made another happy little buzz and-

"Eelektrik boa."

“DRAGONS ALMIGHTY. THE EEL GLOWS.”

There it was, clear as day. Eelektrik flashed it’s spots in natural bioluminescence, blinking like a neon sign. Bright beautiful yellow and clearly charged, Emmet’s hair stood on end, pushing his hat an inch off his head. They blinked in a rhythmic, pulsing manner. It was almost hypnotizing to watch, in a way. Ingo snapped back to reality, realizing his mouth had dropped open and Lampent had ceased questing for his Pokedex. Recognizing Emmet was looking for a response, he threw his arm out in a thumbs-up so fast his arm hurt, snapping his suspender against his neck.

“Brrravo! Ten out of ten! Majestic eel scarf!” He praised, Emmet’s expression only growing further full of himself and his achievement, which was well deserved. Lampent echoed the sentiment, flashing back at Eelektrik in response.

Now that both Pokemon could glow, they’d never have a problem in the caves again!

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alfascorpiionux · 3 months ago

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Ascendants: How to recognize them

Aries:short-tempered and impulsive are the first words that come to my mind. They are direct in speech and appreciate having friends around though they might not be the friendliest and at times they like drawing into themselves. They are self-sufficient and stick to their point of view. Could be ambitious, energetic. They are likely lean/atletic or if they are not into sports then on the lighter side. Fast walkers or talkers. They give off the air of an independent/confident person. Sharp facial features.

Taurus: chill, laid-back, well-dressed, agreeable. They like to take their time doing things. Hate being rushed. Are likely stubborn and would rather be coaxed than forced into doing things. They appreciate the fine things in life: good food, nice clothes, aesthetic stuff etc. Not particularly confrontational; could have problems bottling up feelings and then explode. As about body type - they are probably on the curvy/chubbier side. Expressive eyes and soft, rounder cheeks. Probably brown/darker hair and eyes. Should take care not to overeat.

Gemini: meet the charmers/socialites! These natives probably have a good number of friends or at least acquaintances. They are good speakers, with intellectual air to their communication. Can fit in with almost any group. Likely doesn’t struggle socially or if he/she does will quickly find a solution. Since it’s an air sign, traits such as open-mindedness, inquisitiveness, curiosity and friendliness will most likely be used to describe this individual.

Could become a great teacher or writer. Highly intelligent, probably has many hobbies. Is quite energetic and restless.

As body type - tall and on the leaner side. Long or elegant fingers. Expressive, mischievous eyes. It’s said that the Gemini rising is a desirable position as it is associated with a youthful appearance, regardless of age.

Cancer: shy, reserved, protective are all words that would describe them well. They are people who value privacy a lot and for whom family plays a crucial part in their life. They like looking out for people and definitely notice the little details (ex.cat hair on your new jeans, the subtlest shift in the tone of your voice).

Not the most social but there are likely many people who’d like to get to know them as their aura is very comforting and warm.

Might be prone to mood swings or be sensitive to changes of scenery/season.

As about body type - look for soft features, big and expressive eyes, pale or sensitive skin.

Leo: charismatic, stylish, outspoken & generous. Much like the Sun itself, this native’s presence can be felt whenever he/she enters the room. They dress to the latest fashion trends or have their own particular sense of style that makes them distinctly stand out. Can definitely stick up for their idea and will. Could have the tendency to be dictatorial or controlling but are generally very friendly and pleasant people to be around. Very protective of their children especially. Generous and direct, sometimes a little too trusting. Leadership qualities are very likely. People see them as trustworthy and worth listening too. Probably is well-liked and has a supportive circle of friends he/she regularly keeps in contact with.

As body type - broad shoulders or strong frame. Very well-kept hair. Good posture and expressive eyes. Radiant smile.

Virgo: graceful, observant, analytical and conscientious are the key words here. These people don’t typically like being in the spotlight. They are helpful, polite and practical. They pay attention to their health and are probably in a good shape. They like having routines and take special pleasure in completing daily tasks or could not do without them.

They don’t go for flashy styles of clothing and are all about looking neat and well-put together.

As body types - they are medium or on the petite side. Could be athletic too. Youthful. Long fingers, delicate hands. Graceful or measured movements.

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halsteadlover · 1 year ago

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𝐀 𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐧

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female!Reader.

• Requested by anon: Could you please write a derek Morgan x reader smut where the reader and derek and the team obvi are on a case and while interviewing neighbors in the apartments the reader makes a stupid bet like "I bet whoever lives here is a hot single bachelor in his 20s" and then it's the opposite and when they are back in the car derek makes the reader pay up but with her panties and when she goes to get them back at the end of the day it leads to smut.

• Warnings: a really brief mention of a murder case (it’s just a sentence), dirty talk, cuss words, making out, semi-public foreplay (f. receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up you guyssss!!)

• Word count: 5.5K

• A/N: my first Derek fic 😭 I hope you like it guys, please let me know what do you think about it and also comment, like and reblog, it’d mean the world. Sending lots of love to everyone ❤️

What part of your brain thought it was a good idea to make a bet with Derek Morgan?

You didn’t even know why you did it, it must’ve been the pleasure of losing because there was no way on earth you would’ve won.

You and Morgan were about to go interview a witness for a case you were working on: a serial killer who was killing his victims by setting fires. You were walking next to each other while you thought of some way to make what was going to be a long and boring afternoon, interesting.

You and Derek had a, well… Particular relationship, to say the least.

Months prior you and him had started to have sex. It started out as a purely physical thing as you had always been very attracted to each other, but as time went on you found yourselves spending time together and enjoying each other’s company even outside of a sexual sphere.

Your relationship, both from a working and private point of view, had always been characterized by a playful banter, mischievous jokes, by the constant flirting so it wasn’t strange you both often found yourselves making bets aimed to make lose the other’s mind.

In fact, it was at that moment that you came up with an idea for a bet, however forgetting he took them so seriously it seemed like his life depended on it, especially since most of the time he won, and the penances were of a sexual nature. Of course you didn’t mind losing one bit.

“I bet whoever lives here is a hot single bachelor in his twenties,” you said, pointing to the apartment where you were heading, ready to question the witness. He grinned and glanced at you, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Oh baby girl, you still don’t understand it’s a losing battle?”

“What’s the matter Agent Morgan, you afraid of losing?” You challenged him with the deliberate pleasure of teasing him and in fact he immediately gave in to your provocation.

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly in amusement. You arrived in front of the apartment door that had the number ‘23’ on its sign. You were standing facing each other while he thought about the penance, he would’ve make you do if you – most likely – lost.

Another evil, mocking grin appeared on his lips, and you immediately knew you were in trouble. “You’ll give me your panties when you lose.”

“If I lose.”

“When. But you can still back out.”

“Never.”

He held out a hand towards you but you didn’t miss the way his eyes roamed over your body from head to toe, checking you out without shame. Over time you had learned to understand what he was thinking, what was hidden behind his look and you almost caught fire because you immediately recognized that look, it was the one he gave you when he was imagining you naked in every possible and imaginable position.

And in fact, you weren’t wrong.

Just the thought of having your panties in his pocket, walking around and smelling you, was enough to make his dick stir in his pants.

You knew the odds of you winning the bet were slim, but your competitive nature made you shake Morgan’s hand, and he gave you another one of his panty-ripping smiles.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, don’t take the victory for granted.”

He raised his hands in surrender, chuckling. “I would never dare but be realistic darling. Do you know how low the odds are?”.

“What if I win?”.

“You won’t.”

“What if I win?” You repeated, crossing your arms over your chest.

He shrugged, very sure he’d win. “You’ll choose the penance.”

You thought about it for a moment and a mischievous smile appeared on your lips this time. “I’ll do a strip tease and a lap dance.”

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “How is that a penance? Baby I’d drop on my knees right now to make this happen...”

“…But you’ll be handcuffed, you won’t be able to touch me and I won’t make you come.”

He opened his mouth wide, feeling his dick twitch just at the thought. He had to force himself to think of something else since he didn’t want to question a witness with a raging hard on but it was awfully difficult when all he could do was imagine you strip teasing and grinding on his lap. “Fuck I don’t know if I should win or lose.”

“If you want to end up with blue balls then you have to hope to lose.”

You knocked on the apartment door, still maintaining eye contact with Derek and trying to hold back your laughter since you knew exactly what he was thinking. You took your eyes away from him only to let them travel down his body and to the crotch of his pants which was clearly prominent at that moment. You bit your lip as you looked back at his face and he glared at you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispered, feeling the situation getting even worse. Damn it, he felt like a damn horny teenager.

Before you could respond to his comment the door opened, revealing a person who couldn’t be more different from the object of your bet. He in fact was a she, a lady who couldn’t have been less than sixty years old.

Your smile dropped as the one on Derek’s face grew even more and, as you had already said, you wondered what part of your brain had thought it was a good idea to make that bet.

“Good morning. Can I help you?” she looked skeptically at both of you.

“Oh yes ma’am, you just made my day so much better,” he replied softly but glancing at you. “We’re FBI agents, may we ask you few questions?”

Over the next hour and a half you interviewed other witnesses near the fire scene and on your way to the car, Derek wouldn’t stop trying to get close to you and touch you.

“Derek stop it! We’re in public! God you’re so unprofessional,” you slapped one of his hands away that had been squeezing your ass for the last couple of minutes, trying not to laugh.

“There’s nothing professional about what we do, baby girl,” he replied with mock annoyance, “Plus I can’t help it, I can’t wait to rip your panties off.”

“Nuh uh mister, the deal was that I have to give you my panties not you taking them off me.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes as you approached the car but before you could get in he grabbed your hand and turned you towards him. He placed his hands on your face and as he pushed your back against the car door he crushed his lips on yours.

He didn’t care about passers-by in any way, in people’s eyes you might have looked like a couple who was passionately making out.

After the first few seconds of surprise, you immediately kissed him back, parting your lips and letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. You knew it was totally unprofessional to kiss your colleague in broad daylight while you were doing your job but all it took was for him to get close for you to lose your mind, no longer able to think clearly.

Your hands moved down his chest to encircle his waist, trying to pull him closer to you than his body already was. Your mouths moved in sync while he seemed to want to suck his soul out of you and although you were now used to kissing him, every time it was as if it was the first.

You almost moaned into the kiss, your body already on fire, wanting more. You wanted him so badly, you wanted his hands, his fingers, his mouth and his tongue all over you.

“Derek please…” you sighed when you broke away, his face still dangerously close to yours.

“Get in the car princess,” he ordered and his voice was so low and seductive that if he had asked you to give him a blowjob right there on the sidewalk you would’ve dropped on your knees without the slightest hesitation.

He opened the door for you and you giggled like a teenager before getting in, thanking him as you watched him walk around the car before getting in too.

“I would’ve fucked you in the car here and now if we weren’t in public. You’re so fucking hot baby,” he whispered against your lips after moving closer to you and taking your chin between his fingers. “But I’ll settle taking your panties off for now.”

He placed a hand on your breast and groped it before sliding it across your stomach to your jeans-covered pussy. You moaned as he began to touch you, making you squirm under his expert fingers.

“I bet you’re already wet, aren’t you honey?” He continued to tease you.

“Fuck Derek… They’ll see us…”

“You’re right,” he replied, stopping touching you, causing you to moan and grunt at the same time. “No one should look at what is mine.”

God Derek Morgan and the things he made you feel. You were starting to really hate him.

“You’re having so much fun aren’t you?”

He started the car but not before throwing you one last mocking and sexy as hell grin. “You have no idea how much.”

You squeezed your legs together in anticipation feeling the urge and desire grow more and more. You continued to look at him as he drove, observing every feature of his perfect profile with your hungry eyes.

How could someone be so perfect?

And it didn’t help he had one hand resting on your inner thigh as his thumb was stroking dangerously close to your intimate area. You didn’t know whether to hate him, to beg him to go higher or both but certainly the smug expression on his face made you want to punch him.

Derek drove to a hidden, dead end road, not caring the rest of the team was probably waiting to hear from both you and him.

He kissed you breathless again, threading a hand into your hair. But he didn’t stay there for long as he moved down your chest again, wasting no time in groping your breasts again, until he reached your pussy again.

“God Derek you’re driving me crazy,” you hissed as you struggled to keep control. He kissed you again and unbuttoned your pants and you lifted your hips before your brain could even process the movement, allowing him to slide them down your thighs. You took off your shoes, slipping your pants off.

He slipped his hands into your underwear and a loud moan escaped your lips that Derek felt right in his dick. “As I imagined… So fucking wet.”

“Fuck yes just like that,” you sighed as his fingers drew circles on your clit. You gripped the sides of the seat as if searching for a leverage, pleasure flowing through your veins.

He knew where to touch you, he knew HOW to touch you, what to do to make you lose your mind and control.

“I'm dying to taste this pussy, look at you soaking up my fingers,” he whispered in your ear, pressing his lips to your neck and sucking on your skin but being careful not to leave any marks. The team already didn’t give you any respite suspecting there was something between you, he certainly didn’t want to give them clear proof.

Two of his fingers slipped easily inside your wet pussy, curling inside you and touching that spongy spot that made you moan and thinking you were about to ascend to heaven.

“Yes, yes, oh god yes,” you kissed him, spreading your legs even more to give him more access.

“You like that don’t you? My pretty girl loves being so dirty, letting me finger this pussy in public.”

You dipped your head back in pleasure, feeling the orgasm already building inside you.

He pulled his fingers out and you grunted at the loss and took off your panties, bringing them to his nose and deeply inhaling the scent that drove him so crazy: you and sex. “Now I really don’t know how I’m going to go through the whole day without being hard knowing I have your panties here,” he spoke up as he stuffed them into his pocket. “But we should go back.”

What?

“Derek you can’t leave me like this!”.

“Oh I can and I will, we shouldn’t let the others think we might be doing something shouldn’t we?”

“You fucking piece of shit.”

He burst out laughing and you nearly punched him in his handsome face.

You were furious. Irritated.

You were furious, irritated but above all horny.

After that little stunt he had done in the car Derek had really left you like that, without an orgasm and with a mad desire to fuck.

The rest of the day was torture, especially having to work with other people while pretending you didn’t feel like you were on the edge the whole time. You didn’t spare Morgan some dirty looks after which he had to force himself not to laugh but he didn’t spare you those languid looks full of lust either.

It wasn’t easy for you but it wasn’t easy for him either since, unlike you, couldn’t hide his excitement so easily. Knowing he had your panties in his pocket and the memory of your wet pussy were giving him no respite.

In reality, you both loved that little game, teasing and torturing each other until the other lost his mind, even if… To be honest, wearing jeans without underwear was complete torture.

At the end of the day, when you were finally all in your own room, you took the opportunity to take a shower and put on a dress and the sexy lingerie you had put in your bag before leaving for the new case.

You giggled just thinking about Derek’s reaction.

You went to his room, knocking twice before he opened the door making your jaw drop and almost fall to the floor when you realized he was naked and only had a towel around his waist.

His body was still wet, sign he had just gotten out of the shower, the drops running down his sculpted chest that you wanted to lick off one by one.

“Oh man…” He sighed. “You’re breathtaking baby,” he began, shamelessly scanning your body from head to toe, a smirk on his lips. “I was wondering when you were coming.”

“You always opening the door like this, Agent Morgan?” You asked ironically before entering his room without even waiting for him to invite you.

“Woah woah woah, where do you think you’re going baby girl? Where is my kiss?” He scolded you, almost truly offended after closing the door behind him.

You giggled, but unable to take your eyes off his body and stop them from wandering hungrily over his figure.

“No, dry yourself first and then I’ll kiss you,” you replied before going to sit on the edge of the bed, placing your hands behind you on the mattress and tilting your head slightly as you looked at him.

He didn’t answer but came closer to you and placed two fingers on your chin, forcing you to lift your head and pressing your lips to his in a sweet kiss that took the air out of your lungs.

“Jealous Agent Y/Ln?” He whispered an inch from your lips, referring to your initial question after making you get up from the bed.

“Not even a little bit, it was just an innocent question agent Morgan.”

Absolutely. You were 100% jealous.

But you knew from the way the corner of his mouth lifted in a twisted, mischievous smile he didn’t believe it one bit. “You know, being a profiler I thought you were better at hiding emotions. Lies don’t look good on you pretty girl.”

“That would be true if I had told a lie but that’s not the case, I’m not jealous at all,” you said with a confident tone as your gaze alternated between his eyes and his lips. He was so close and so tempting you felt like you were already losing patience.

“To answer the question, no, I don’t answer to anyone. Just you.”

“You? Derek Morgan?”.

He chuckled. “Strange right? But it seems like you’ve done some weird witchcraft on me because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“You already got in my pants, no need to be cheesy,” you retorted, biting your lip to keep from smiling.

He sighed, slightly shaking his head. “Always so cynical. What should I do with you?”

“Give me back my panties?”.

He raised an eyebrow. “Have you forgotten what the word ‘lose’ means?”.

“If I had known you liked them so much I would’ve bought you a new pair to wear you know.”

“You think you’re so funny don’t you?”. He grabbed your face with one hand, his mouth dangerously close to yours but never touching it.

You nodded with a smirk as you watched as his eyes were fixed on your lips. “Maybe you might like what I have now better.”

You took a step back and the look of pure confusion on his face was replaced by astonishment when he saw your hands lower the thick straps of your dress down your arms, then lowering the side zip and letting the dress fall around your feet.

The look of shock on his face was something you’d never forget.

Derek widened his mouth and eyes, letting his hungry gaze travel along your body wrapped in lace lingerie, studying every curve and inch of your skin. A warm feeling spread in your lower abdomen and it was amazing how just the way he looked at you was enough to turn you on.

“Holy shit…” he breathed out, “You… Are… You… Holy fuck…” he continued stuttering, unable to form a single meaningful sentence.

“Wow did I really manage to surprise Agent Morgan?” You giggled, your cheeks flushed and stomach filled with fluttering butterflies, knowing you had such an effect on him. Derek Morgan – the man who with a single smile and a look could’ve make rows and rows of women fall at his feet – was drooling over you, looking at you like you were the eighth wonder of the world.

“I’ll answer you when some blood returns to my brain.”

Your gaze trailed down his body and your insides clenched at the sight of his prominent erection beneath the towel around his waist. Your mouth watered just thinking about what was underneath that single fabric, imagining his dick in your mouth, in every hole in your body as he filled you completely.

“You look spectacular Y/n, my god” he murmured, his chocolate brown eyes still on your body and never on your face. You could see him struggling in not knowing what to pay more attention to, your breasts which were perfectly highlighted by the lace that gave that see-through effect while it showed the shadow of your nipples, if the hold-ups that surrounded your thighs that Derek wanted nothing more than to mark and bite or your pussy also covered in matching lace in which he wanted to dive and feed on it until he drown himself to death.

Derek moved closer to you, closing the small distance between the two of you. “Turn around. Show me this beautiful ass that torments me in my sleep.”

The tone of his voice alone made you almost beg him to do anything he wanted. You didn’t have to be told twice and you turned around, your skin on fire as you felt his penetrating gaze on you as he observed and studied every millimeter of your body.

You heard Derek exhale a deep breath behind you. “A fucking goddess. You’re absolutely mesmerizing.”

A rush of shivers gave you goosebumps as he placed his rough hands on your arms, stroking them slowly before moving up and moving your hair from your shoulders and letting it fall along your shoulder blades, leaving your neck exposed. His lips began to plant kisses on your skin and the mere contact made you sigh and tilt your head to the side, giving him more access.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you drive me?” he whispered in your ear and you clenched your hands into fists, pressing your nails into your palms in an attempt to release the frustration you felt. Every second that passed while he didn’t touch you as you wanted there was a shred of your sanity that was shattered.

You shook your head, realizing you hadn’t answered yet.

His hands went down your arms again, then moving up your hips until they reached your ass. You let out a gasp when his fingers tightened around the flesh of your ass, squeezing it, groping it with the sole purpose of torturing you and leaving you eager for more.

“God the things I want do to you baby, you can’t even imagine.”

“Do it Derek, do whatever you want to me… I need you.”

“I love feeling you so desperate for me.”

An empty feeling came over you as his fingers let go of your ass, moving to your hips. However, you moaned when he pushed his body against yours, pressing his erection against the curves of your ass and grinding against you without shame or restraint.

“Fuck Derek,” you murmured, now on the verge of losing your mind.

One of his hands ended up around your throat, forcing you to bend your head and rest it on his shoulder while the other cupped one of your breasts, palpating it over the top of your bra. You sighed, rubbing your ass against his hard dick as you couldn’t wait for it to stretch your pussy.

“That’s what you do to me, you make me so hard I can’t even think straight anymore.” He pinched your hard nipple from above the fabric. “You have no idea how much I want to rip this off of you but I know you’d kill me,” he chuckled in your ear.

“I don’t give a shit.” You blurted out, not evens embarrassed about how fast you said it.

“What do you want baby? Talk to me.”

God it was so damn hard talking when you were so horny you couldn’t even remember your name, the denied orgasm making things worse.

“You. Fuck me, please. I need you so badly Derek.”

He tightened his hand lightly around your neck, cupping your chin then turning your head towards him and before you knew it he slammed his lips onto yours, sucking the breath from your body as his tongue explored your mouth in a sloppy, deep kiss.

He slowly slid the fingers of his other hand – that until a few seconds before were on your breast – along your chest, your lower abdomen, touching your needy and drenched pussy with his fingertips. You whined during the kiss, spontaneously lifting your hips to try and meet his fingers.

God you were hating him at that moment.

“I can smell your wetness from here, is my baby horny for me?” he whispered on your lips swollen and red from the impetuous kiss.

“I’ll fucking kill you right now Morgan I swear to god.”

He laughed and your stomach clenched in on itself. “Don’t worry baby, I’m here. I’m going to fuck your brains out, so good you won’t even be able to get up when I’m done with you.” This time it was your pussy that clenched when you squeezed your legs together for some friction. Derek let go of your throat and began to play with your panties. Your breath hitched as he slowly began to lower them, trailing them down your legs.

“I think I’ll keep these too,” he whispered even as his voice came loud and clear to your ears. You turned your head to the side so you could look at him and let out a ragged sigh when you saw him kneeling behind you. His eyes shone under the light of the hotel room as they looked at you with so much intensity that they alone would’ve been enough to set you on fire.

He left a kiss on your ass, making you gasp to the point of embarrassment as he bit your skin and groped your now bare ass. “One day I’ll fuck this pretty little ass too and you’ll love every second of it.”

“You can start by fucking my pussy now.”

He chuckled again as he stood up. He placed a hand on your heated back, inviting you to lean on the bed in front of you and you obeyed, resting your hands on the bed and giving him a perfect view of your ass.

“I can see from here how wet you are baby girl,” he moved closer to you, his bare thighs touching yours and then you realized he had removed the towel from his waist.

God have mercy on me.

“I’ll eat this beautiful pussy later but now all I can think about is fucking her so good,” he said as his fingers brushed against you and this little contact, combined with his dirty words, made you squirm with anticipation. “After all, you deserve it after being such a good girl all day.”

You felt him place his tip near your entrance and you both moaned as he slid his dick against your folds, wetting it with your fluids. He provoked you, tortured you with every motion, it was what he was best at, he knew which points to touch to drive you crazy and leave you painfully longing.

“Derek please, I want you so much,” you whined in a pathetic tone full of lust and desire as he continued to penetrate you with just the tip and then pull out. You hated him and wanted him at the same time, so much it hurt.

“What do you want, princess?” His hands gripped your hips and he leaned over you, pressing his lips to your skin before leaving damp, wet kisses all over your back.

“Fuck me.”

“Fuck,” he hissed through gritted teeth before lining his dick up with your entrance and finally filling you.

“Oh God yes, you feel so god Derek.” You panted vigorously, your heart beating so hard it almost stopped as you felt his soft and especially bare skin touching every corner of you.

He remained still for a few moments, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to maintain control of his body. You were so wet and it felt so good being inside you, Derek feared that with just one push he would’ve come on the spot.

“Baby please… Move…”

Baby.

Fuck.

That simple little word had no business making his insides twist like he had. You were used to calling each other nicknames, it wasn’t new, but there was something in that ‘baby’ you said: perhaps it was the vulnerability with which you pronounced it, breathless and as if he was the only one who could save you, the way your voice was so full of desire.

Derek pulled out before thrusting into you again with a strong thrust so deep if it hadn’t been for his hands firmly gripping your hips you would’ve probably fallen forward.

“You have no idea what you do to me, fucking hell you drive me crazy,” he breathed out, head tilted back and eyes closed as his dick pounded into you like he was angry.

You tried to formulate a meaningful sentence but as you opened your lips only gasps and moans came out. He was fucking you so deeply that with each thrust you felt a piece of your brain coming out of your head and your soul out of your body.

Exactly like he promised.

All the hidden frustration made its way and exploded like a time bomb, not much time passing until even the orgasm began to build inside you.

Your face was pressed into the sheets of the bed, your breathing heavy and quickening as your hands clenched the fabric into a fist. “Derek…” you whimpered in pleasure as you pushed your pelvis towards him with each thrust. It didn’t seem to be enough though, you wanted more and more.

One of his hands continued to hold your hips firmly while he slid the other along your back, until he reached your hair which he tightened in a fist forcing you to lift your head. His moans and groans sounded like music to your ears and you couldn’t contain the joy of knowing it was you who made him feel this way, it was you who made him lose control.

“Fuck I could stay inside you forever, you take me so well. This pussy was made for me,” he groaned as the tip of his dick hit your G-spot, making you see stars. You wanted to answer but when you opened your mouth all that came out were moans and sighs. “Just for me… You understand?”

“Just you baby, only you,” you babbled while loudly moaning, not caring one bit if someone could hear you having sex.

His lips kissed your shoulder, his tongue traced every inch of skin he could reach. “That’s right pretty girl…” he groaned in your ear, his sentence interrupted by another moan. “Fuck yeah you’re mine.”

“Holy shit baby… I’m about to come…” You managed to say and the orgasm that hit you full on like a truck gave you no mercy, didn’t let you escape as it sucked away your ability to breath. If it wasn’t for Derek’s hand still in your hair you would’ve collapsed on the mattress.

His thrusts became unhinged, even more out of control than they were before and it didn’t take long for him to reach his climax too. How could he resist? There was no chance, not when your pussy was tightening around his dick in the throes of orgasmic spasms, leaving him no escape.

Derek exploded inside you, emptying himself into you until the last drop of his seed filled your pussy, then leaking from your entrance and sliding down your thighs as he pulled out.

“Shit,” he breathed as you felt the weight of the mattress dip as he collapsed next to you. “You destroy me baby, how do you manage to do this every single time?”

You mumbled something nonsensical in response, eyes closed and too tired to say anything. He chuckled and stroked your hair, brushing it away from your face so he could get a good look at you.

You were so beautiful, ethereal, so mesmerizing it hurt and seeing that happy and pleased look on your face almost sent him to his knees, internally promising himself he’d fight every single person on earth just to always see you so relaxed and happy.

“How many women do you tell this?” you managed to say, opening one eye and keeping the other closed and a flock of butterflies exploded in your stomach when you saw the breathtaking smile he was looking at you with.

“If you think there is someone capable of making me feel what you feel, you’re very wrong. Like I already said, I don’t know what strange witchcraft you did to me but you really hooked me baby.” He propped himself up on one elbow and leaned towards you, pressing small kisses across your face, neck, shoulders and all the way up to your lips. “There is no one else since you came in in my life, I’m so obsessed with you it’s not even funny.”

You opened your second eye too, suddenly not so tired anymore. “Really?”

“Why, isn’t the same for you?” he asked, his stomach clenched with jealousy at the thought of a man laying a finger on you. “Please tell me no or someone help me I will kill every man who even looked at you, I’m an FBI agent and I know how to hide dead bodies in such a way that not even the families will ever find them.”

You burst out laughing, and rolled onto your back before throwing your arms around his neck so you could bring him closer to you and press your lips to his. “Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme?”

“Y/n. Don’t fucking test me.”

“I’m just kidding,” your lips brushed against his before planting another small kiss on them. “There couldn’t be another man even if they forced me, you’ve really messed up my life Agent Morgan and I’m pretty much obsessed with you too.”

“That better be. We’re exclusive since the day I kissed you in that elevator,” he grumbled. “God I love when you call me baby,” he then sighed happily and the way his mood shifted so quickly made. Your fingers caressed his soft, perfect skin and he mumbled with contentment. You noticed how his pupils were so dilated the chocolate surrounding them had almost disappeared. “Mine, only mine.”

“And you’re mine darling, I’m an FBI agent too and I know a thousand ways to make deaths look like accidents.” He pressed his lips to yours again, kissing you so deeply your heart almost stopped in your chest.

Derek Morgan would be the death of you, you were certain of that.

“Just give me five more minutes and I’ll show you how much we belong to each other princess, how much I look, think and breathe for you only.”

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not-neverland06 · 9 months ago

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Hey! Love your writing and love Flux!! I was hoping to request a kind of angsty/fluffy fic with the worst!wolverine where the meet her in the void and maybe Logan knew her just not very well and he’s finally letting himself open up and be close with her (likewise with reader/flux towards logan) and they get into an argument or maybe logan has a nightmare and he ends up stabbing her with his claws and maybe the aftermath of him beating himself up and sabotaging the new relationship until reader finally snaps him out of it and says it was an accident and she still loves him?? Thanks!!

mistake

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

a/n: I want to thank you for this request because I've been having the worst writer's block in the world. I was worried about having to go into another unofficial hiatus, but this made something in my brain click together and I knocked it out in two hours. my life is yours 🙏🙏 Summary: You know him. Or, you knew him. And you never blamed him for what happened in your world. It wasn't his fault that everyone you loved died and you barely escaped with your life. But you never actually thought you'd have to see him again. You don't know what to do when all these feelings resurface with his appearance.

No one truly knew who you were back in your universe. After the horrific incident at the mansion, you had run. You’d run as fast and as far as you could from the slaughter of your friends. You’d barely escaped with your life, and from the amount of blood and gore they’d left behind, most people just assumed you were dead.

It’s not like anyone cared about you. Scott, Ororo, and Jean had been the real heroes. But it didn’t matter because they were still mutants at the end of the day. It didn’t matter how many people they saved. How many lives they positively changed, no one would ever see past the fact that they were mutants.

Being one of the newer members of the recently disbanded X-Men gave you enough anonymity to get through daily life without being recognized. It did not, however, protect you from being sucked into the shit fest that is the multiverse.

You’re not sure what it is about you that just attracts bad luck. You don’t know if it’s some hidden power that’s a part of your evolution. You’re just apparently perpetually fucked. The TVA had determined that you were interfering with the proper flow of your timeline or some bullshit.

Now you’re here. Stuck in the void with nothing but decay and drunk former superheroes. If you have to watch one more Captain America ‘rally the troops’ you’re gonna kill him yourself. You’ve considered switching teams and joining Cassandra Nova at times. If only so you don’t have to deal with Johnny Storm and the rest of the dipshits.

You get along with Laura, at least. She likes to tell you about her Logan and you like to dodge her questions about yours. She doesn’t need to know that not every version of Wolverine has a golden heart and story worthy of tears. Yours was a fuck up, plain and simple, but you never thought the incident was his fault.

As much as others tried to push the blame on him. The people who raided the mansion were determined. There was no other way that day was going to end up. You’d just have one less X-Man. But people always love a martyr more than a victim.

After a couple of years, you get used to the monotony. Your days are only occasionally broken up by dodging Cassandra’s henchmen and trying not to get sucked up into the soul destroyer. Other than that, you spend your nights getting drunk with Gambit and pretending you know whatever the fuck he’s talking about.

“Laura! I managed to find some chocolate!” You run into the hideout looking for the girl. It’s rare to find good food that isn’t already a month past its expiration date. You weren’t planning on sharing the candy with her but you figured she’d smell it on you and it’s not worth the fight.

Instead, you stop short as the familiar blue and yellow uniform you’d always try to force on him comes into view. He’s stealing Gambit’s liquor and you know that’s not going to go over well. What you don’t know is why you are so sure that this is your Wolverine.

You’ve never had a Wolverine in the void. Not once. This could be any one of the hundreds of thousands of variants. But you see that look in his eye. That familiar watery gaze shows just how much he hurts, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“Logan?” You breathe his name out in disbelief. Bypassing the Deadpool standing nearby. You’ve dealt with enough of those in your time down here. He takes a step back, fixing you with a distrusting look.

He keeps the bottle of alcohol clutched close to his chest like he thinks you’re going to take it. You track the movement and you scoff. “Right,” you shake your head and stop short. “Of course, the only thing you care about is still getting fucking drunk.”

He glares at you, taking a step forward like he thinks it might actually intimidate you. “Do I know you, bub?” He reaches forward, probably to jab his finger in your chest. You drop your gaze to his outstretched hand and narrow your eyes.

The material of his suit fluctuates, pulling back and rippling over his arms like liquid and not spandex. He doesn’t notice the manipulation of matter until it's his skin you target. It melts off his adamantium bones and he stares down in horror.

You know he's scared because he’s watching his body dissolve but he’s not feeling any pain. You could make it hurt, but that’s not what you want. You just want to see if he’ll remember you now. If there’s anything half-decent left in that alcohol-rotted brain of his.

“Flux,” he grits your X-Man name out through his teeth like it hurts him to say it.

You nod and his skin and suit go back to normal, like you’d never tampered with it in the first place. “You do remember me, then?”

“Thought you fucking died with the rest of them.” Your face drops before you feel an astonished smile on your face.

“You know, it’s a comfort to know nothing about my world has changed. You’re still the same spineless dick that left us all to die.” You shake your head and storm out of the hideout. You don’t know how long they’re planning on staying but you pray they leave soon. If you have to deal with him longer than a week, you’ll just kill him.

You step outside just as Laura’s coming back from the bonfire. She greets you with a stiff smile and you wonder what’s got in her in a mood. It only takes a glance over her shoulder to find the reason.

Logan is sulking by the fire, nursing yet another bottle of whiskey. He’s drinking it like water and even with his healing, his liver should have turned to mush by now. “I can see why you didn’t tell me about him,” she mutters as she passes by you.

You know she tried to be quiet but you can see the way Logan’s head tilts slightly towards you. He’s heard her and you know it has to sting just a little.

You glance down at the leaves under your feet, eyes glazing over as you feel the guilt sink into your stomach. You shouldn’t feel bad, you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t hurt him, technically, just reminded him who you were. But you still feel bad for what you said.

You’ve never blamed Logan for what happened. And if you did, you would be a hypocrite. Because you survived too, and you left them all behind. You ran like a coward. You could never blame him when you failed to save them just the same.

You take in a deep breath and steel yourself. You’ll just apologize, walk over there, and explain to him you didn’t mean what you said. You know he’ll be a dick about it. Claiming he doesn’t want your apology. You’ll just leave him alone after.

You’re about to step forward when he barks out a gruff command, “Don’t fucking stare at me like that. I don’t want your company.” He turns back to the fire and takes another swig from his bottle.

You roll your eyes and walk towards him. “You can be as miserable and self-pitying as you want, just let me say one thing.”

His head whips towards you so quickly you’re surprised you don’t hear it snap. “I’m not fucking pitying myself,” he grits out. You quirk your brows in amusement, glancing towards the bottle in his hand and the clear way he’s sulking. He turns his attention back towards the fire, intent on ignoring you again.

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” you tell him. You ignore the warning look he shoots you, taking a seat beside him even if he doesn’t want you to. “I-” you choke on the words, struggling to admit to yourself what you’ve never wanted to.

“Don’t.” You know it’s meant to be a warning. But when you look at him and see how completely broken he is, it sounds more like a pathetic plead.

But you need to say this. As selfish as it is, you need to say this to someone., Need to unload this guilt you’ve carried for so long. “I was there, Logan. I could have saved them and I didn’t. I fucking ran.”

“Kid, don’t do this-”

“Jean was still moving,” you blurt out. You feel the way your heart speeds up at the admission. Your fingers shake and the air around you stills.

His face drops and he slowly turns towards you. You’re afraid to look at him. You feel like a bunny staring down the snout of a wolf, there’s no escaping this. You’ve created this trap for yourself.

“What?” He demands. His voice has lost that tremor of vulnerability. Instead, he sounds like he did when he first found out what had happened to you all. That same deadly level of calm that makes you want to bolt again.

“She,” you stare into the fire until your eyes burn. You don’t know if it’s from the light or the smoke but the pain focuses you. “She was shaking on the floor. There was blood everywhere and she could barely breathe. They had gassed us with something. None of us could use our powers, it’s the only reason they got a one-up on us.”

You can feel yourself slipping back into that moment. You feel the warmth of the blood on your skin. It seeps into your suit and makes the material cling to you. Your gut is split open and the only thing holding your intestines in is your hands.

Jean is in front of you. Her hands are twitching by her sides. There’s blood pouring out of her lips, dribbling down her tongue and cheeks. Every breath is a rattle so deep you feel it in your bones.

Each inhale sounds like someone dragging glass through the membrane of her lungs. Her chest rises and sinks shallowly as she gasps for air. She’s practically convulsing, eyes twitching every which way.

The gas has faded from the halls. The people have left, satisfied with the carnage. You’re alone, surrounded only by the blood and bodies of your friends. None of the others are moving. Some of them are so mangled you can’t even tell who they are anymore.

Jean’s eyes lock onto yours. The only anchor she has. And you can see it, the frantic, wounded animal gaze on her face. She knows she’s dying. She knows there’s nothing she can do about it.

You can only stand by and watch as your friend dies. You could be her comfort. You could be the last face she sees before she dies, distracting her from the sight of her dead fiancee behind her.

But what do you do?

You hold your guts in your stomach and you run. You can’t look at her. You can’t look at any of them. You can hear her croaking behind you. And even when you’re out of the mansion, when you’re in a hospital somewhere getting repaired and Logan’s on a rampage, you still hear her.

You feel something heavy on your arm and it’s like you're being forcibly dragged out of a trance. Logan’s looking at you with something you’ve never seen before. But it’s something you’ve always desperately craved.

It’s like he’s seeing you, really seeing you. For the first time in a long time, you feel that ache of guilt ease away ever so slightly. It doesn’t disappear, but you’re sharing the burden with someone else and it’s a relief you’ve desperately craved.

“You’re not a bad person for leaving, kid.” He swallows roughly and you place your hand over his. He doesn’t look completely comfortable with the touch, slightly flinching away from it, but he doesn’t move. “If you hadn’t, you would be dead.”

You squeeze his hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I never blamed you for what happened.” emotion is so thick on your tongue and in your throat that the words come out a whisper. “Their deaths weren’t your fault, and what happened after wasn’t.”

He clenches his eyes shut and jerks his hand out of your grip. You sigh, knowing you’ve lost him. “I slaughtered them.”

You scoff, “They slaughtered us!” You nearly shout, anger bubbling hot in your gut. When you heard about him killing those who had hunted down your friends, you’d celebrated. And when you heard the way the public was crucifying him, you realized that no matter what you did they would never love you.

You would always be nothing more than a mutant to them.

“And the people who didn’t hurt them? The innocents I killed?”

You don’t have anything to say to that. You just stand up, placing a hand on his shoulder as you pass by him. “I never blamed you, Logan.”

You don’t see Logan again after that. At least, not while you’re in the void. What was left of your little resistance was sucked up into the purple cloud of death. Only you and Laura are left with the carnage.

Logan and Wade have disappeared to who knows where. It stings, to be on your own again. Sure, you have Laura, but she’ll never understand the pain of what happened to your universe.

As much as it hurt, at least with Logan, you had someone to share the pain with. You could share your burden with him. You feel lonely and cold. Like there’s a part of you missing. You finally figure out what that ache is when the TVA comes to collect you and you see him again.

He’s standing behind Wade as he enthusiastically tells you and Larua all about his world. But you can’t take your eyes off Logan, or the tentative smile on his face. Whatever had happened during that fight with Cassandra Nova had changed him, for the better.

You smile back at him and it feels like taking a breath of fresh air after years.

Apparently, whoever this world’s Flux had been, she was fucking insanely rich. And dead, which sucked for her but was great for you and Logan.

It’s not hard for you to fake some government identities and explain that you’d been mistakenly marked as dead. It’s apparently pretty common in this universe. Superheroes are blipped out of existence all the time. You couldn’t get all of her assets as some had been liquidated, but you did get her giant ass house.

You let Logan and Laura stay with you until they decide where they want to go. It’s better than living with Wade and his coke-fiend roommate. Laura finds her groove pretty quickly, it is her world after all. But you and Logan struggle to figure out what to do with yourselves.

Neither of you has an interest in being X-Men again, and it seems like they’re not incredibly present in this world either. You also hadn’t been the best of friends, even before everything went wrong, back home.

You’re not strangers, you’re not friends, you’re that awkward place in between. Each day is another opportunity to get to know each other. The progress might be slow, but you know that you’re getting closer to something real.

It’s why you don’t feel any qualms about running into his room when you hear him shouting. You burst into his room and the door slamming against the wall isn’t even enough to wake him up.

He’s writhing around in the bed, sheets twisted around his waist while sweat beads down his forehead. The noises he’s making remind you of a wounded animal. There’s something heartbreaking about this.

He doesn’t get peace even when he’s sleeping. It makes you hurt for him. You want to smooth over the aches and pains he carries and burden yourself with them.

The thought snaps you out of your reverie and you’re shocked by the revelation. You’d been growing closer to him, but you hadn’t thought you were growing this close. You feel so strongly for him, but you’re not ready to put a name on what it is that you feel for him. You just know that right now you want to make him feel better.

You approach the bed cautiously, taking a seat beside him. The bed ripples and jolts underneath you as he tosses and turns. You place a gentle hand on his arm and shake, “Logan,” you whisper. You don’t want to startle him too bad.

But he’s not responding to anything. It doesn’t matter how much you shake him or call out his name. Finally, you can’t handle it anymore. You get on your knees, sitting over him and bringing your palm down across his face as hard as you can.

In a second he’s shooting up. You don’t even notice his hand until you see the way his vision clears. The visceral panic fades and something is aching in your gut. “Oh god, no no no,” he says the word so many times it stops sounding real.

You look down and see the blood dribbling down his palm, the claws buried in your stomach. It’s almost funny, how perfectly aligned they are with the scar that already lived there. The reminder of your friend’s death being erased and reformed by Logan’s hand.

He pulls his wrist back and you quickly snatch it up. “Don’t!” You shout, jaw clenching against the pain. “Don’t pull them out, I’ll just bleed out.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” You know he’s worried, that’s why he snaps at you. But it doesn’t help the way you feel yourself fighting back tears.

He sees them drip down your cheeks and his face drops. His other hand, the one not in you, comes up and cradles your cheek. “What do I do?” He whispers, and he sounds more desperate than you do.

You know he doesn’t want another death on his hands. But there’s something beyond that. He doesn’t want to be the reason you stop breathing. There’s a startling clarity when you’re slowly dying.

He cares about you. Just as deeply as you do for him. You can’t make him go through this pain again. Can’t let him suffer alone, not when he’s made so much progress. “Slowly,” you tell him, guiding his claws out inch by inch.

It’s hard not to black out. You’d barely felt it when he’d gotten you the first time. You think it’s because of how fast and sudden it was. But this, having them oh so slowly slicing through your insides is the worst form of torture.

But you don’t heal like him. You have to close your eyes, focus on the pain, and forcibly reknit your skin back together. It’s a clever manipulation of your powers, but it’s a slow one. You could never take serious damage on the field because you wouldn’t be fast enough to repair yourself.

This is easy to repair. But that doesn’t make it hurt less. It feels like an hour before he can safely draw them the rest of the way out. The second he does, you’re sinking into his arms with a pained sob.

He clutches you so tightly to his chest you worry your back might snap. He keeps muttering apologies into your hair, hands desperately grasping at every inch of you he can hold. You’re too tired to say anything.

You realized you should have. You should have told him you don’t blame him. You were the one who snuck into his room. You should have been smarter. But it doesn’t matter how many times you tell Logan not to blame himself, he always will. And you were too tired to try anyway.

You only realize what’s happening two days after the incident. You figured he might need some space to process what happened. And honestly, you did too. It was awful and incredibly draining. You’ve felt fatigued ever since.

But when you try and approach him and he just brushes past you like you weren’t even there, you know something is wrong. You watch his retreating back with a disturbed glare. You connect the dots quickly, already knowing what he’s doing.

He doesn’t want to be responsible for hurting another person he loves. He can’t handle a loss like that again, even if it’s not by his hands. He wants to make sure you don’t want him, that you don’t care for him. Like that might ease the pain and guilt.

But it wouldn’t. It would just make him feel worse. It would make you feel worse.

You don’t waste a second, following him up the stairs and barging into his room before he can slam the door shut. It bounces off the wall and he lets out a deeply irritated sigh. He doesn’t turn to look at you, just walks over to his nightstand and rummages around through the doors.

You know he’s not looking for anything. He’s just trying to ignore you long enough for you to give up. It’s not going to happen, he should know better.

You take a step further into the room and the smell of chemicals slams into you. Your nose wrinkles in disgust. It smells like he pumped Lysol into the vents. Your eyes dart to the bed and you sigh.

Your blood, you’d completely forgotten. He must have been cleaning it up the morning after. You can’t blame him for wanting to get rid of the remainder. But this seems excessive.

“Strong nose,” he mutters. You hadn’t realized you’d spoken aloud and you glanced over at him. “I can still smell it, even after cleaning.” He takes a seat on the bed and you hate the way his shoulders are slumped.

He’d seemed so much more comfortable with himself lately. It’s like one accident has undone all his progress. “Logan,” you start, taking a step towards him. He holds his hand up, still not looking at you.

It’s driving you insane. You wish he would just meet your eyes. You feel like you could change his mind if he would just see you. Maybe that’s why he won’t. He won’t let himself be happy.

“Look, that night just made me realize what a huge fucking mistake this was.” He gets up and slides something out from under the bed. It takes a moment for you to register what it is. A duffel bag, packed with all his essentials and what little clothes he owns.

He’s going to leave.

You act without thinking. Pure panic making your powers surge out. Logan grunts and the bag falls out of his hand. “Quit it,” he snipes, bending over to pick it up. But he can’t because it’s so heavy it’s making the wooden floor splinter and crack under its weight.

“You don’t get to just leave when things get hard, Logan.”

He stands up, hands propped on his sides. There’s a challenge in his eyes that makes you nervous. “Fuck this,” he scoffs and brushes past you.

It’s beyond manipulative to use your powers against him. But sometimes, someone is such a fucking idiot, they need a little outside help. You slam the door closed and the handle disappears, locking you both in his room.

He turns towards you with a fierce glare on his face. “Open the goddamn door before I break it down.”

“You can try,” you taunt, a nasty tone to your voice. You’re sick of this. You’re sick of running from what you want. You’ve been miserable and alone for years. You want to be happy. For the first time in forever, you want something.

And you want Logan to be happy with you. You can’t force him to feel the way you do. But you can stop him from actively preventing this. “Stop acting like a goddamn child and just talk to me!” You shout at him.

There’s a disbelieving look on your face. You don’t understand why he won’t let this happen. Why does he have to fight so hard against any semblance of happiness in his life?

“I’m going to hurt you. That is all I do. I hurt the people I love and I cannot hurt you too.” Your eyes widen in shock at his outburst. Beyond anger, there was so much fear in his voice it was almost enough to make you miss what he’d said.

“You love me?” You can see the realization dawn on him. The fact that he let slip why he’s so hesitant to be around you. You know he wants to leave, his eyes are darting around the room for an escape route, but you’ve blocked them all. You can’t let this go, not now.

“Logan,” you snap, demanding an answer from him.

“Fuck you,” he mutters, something vicious on his face.

He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to lash out and say something cruel so that this doesn’t happen. You know him because you’ve been him. He will take every possible route to get out of this if it means he doesn’t have to face his feelings.

You roll your eyes and take a step forward. You jerk him towards you and throw yourself on him before he can say something stupid. The kiss is brief, just enough to snap him out of this ridiculous headspace he’s in.

When you pull back he looks dazed, but he’s relaxed in your hold, sinking towards you. You grin up at him, “I love you too, dumbass.” You lean up to kiss him again but you dart back at the last second, a mean glare on your face. “Pull some shit like this again and I’m going to melt your dick off.”

You kiss him before he can respond, but you feel the smile against your lips. You can taste the defeat on his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and tugs you into his chest. He’s not going to push you away and you’re not going to let him.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium ♡

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett #the worst logan x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine imagine #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #anon

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unoislazy · 6 months ago

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School Time Crush

(College Au)

Vi x Fem!Reader

Basically under her tough and flirty exterior Vi is a dork.

This is my most UNSERIOUS fanfic to date so please for the love of god don’t take this seriously. I just wanted something silly goofy to cope with what is to come😔

Warnings:Cursing.

“So… midterms… crazy right?” Vi said awkwardly as she walked alongside you, her hands in the pocket of her favorite jacket. You smiled with a slight exhale from your nose before glancing at her from the side.

“Very.” You responded as you shifted your bag to a bit of a more comfortable position. You and VI haven't always been friends, you met in a math class that you both had to take and happened to sit together. From then on you’ve gradually hung out more and more outside of classes, and outside of the context of school in general.

“So I was thinking.” She began, tilting her head to the side a bit as she looked at you. She used to have such a tough extortion around you but as you got closer you watched as it practically melted away. Sure she could hold her own in a fight but on the inside she was such a softie, whether she wanted to be or not.

“That’s dangerous.” You joked as you stole another glance at her before looking back to focus on where you were walking.

“We haven’t hung out together in a while.”

“Vi, we’re literally hanging out right now.”

“I know but, I mean really hanging out. Like go somewhere with a purpose of doing something.” She said, her hands remaining in her pockets as she gestured with them.

“Wow you have such a way with words.” You said playfully.

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don't.” You teased with a shrug which earned a sarcastic yet lighthearted eye roll from your friend. Before you could continue your conversation a different voice came into the conversation,

“Vi!” You heard someone call out from not too far away. You hung around Vi enough to be able to recognize that voice without a second thought, powder, Vi’s sister. She ran over to you two, her hair in her usual semi-long braids, her clothing covered in paint and dust from other artistic mediums.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt your date with your girlfriend, I just got a call from-“ She spoke as she finally got closer.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Vi quickly interrupted to which Powder replied even faster,

“Yeah whatever, long story short I need you to come with me, right now, let’s go.” She said hastily as she grabbed her sister's hand.

“I’ll bring her back in one piece for you I promise.” She said as she turned to you with a salute. You couldn’t help but laugh at her antics. You watched as Vi was dragged away, with a small wave you then turned to other things.

As Powder dragged Vi away, she turned to her sister.

“You still haven’t asked her out?” She stopped short, placing her hands on her hips as she looked at her older sister.

“No but I was getting to that…” Vi argued slightly, crossing her arms in front of

herself before Powder shook her head.

“Yeah okay.” She huffed, clearly not believing Vi in the slightest.

“I was-“ She cut herself off with a sigh, realizing it wasn’t worth arguing with her sister before continuing, “What did you even drag me away for?” Vi asked, looking down at her sister a bit.

“Right so crazy story, your friend Jayce, he lost his phone so he asked Viktor to ask Ekko to ask me to ask you to help him with his math. He said it was super urgent.”

Vi simply stared at her sister with the blankest of blank stares.

“That’s it?”

“Yup.”

“Seriously?”

“Mhm.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.”

“Viktor was right there and he decided to ask for me…” She said, almost as if she was disappointed in his critical thinking skills. She sighed, leaning her head back a bit before looking back at her sister. She then quickly looked back to where she had been standing with you just moments before, without this interruption she would have already asked you out, or tried to at least.

“Whatever, fine I’ll help him.” She sighed and begrudgingly made her way to the library where she knew Jayce stayed from open to close when he needed to finish work. He was a very academically bright man, books were his strong suit and so was troubleshooting projects. Anything else though? Not a singular clue in the world. Vi was very much the opposite, she didn’t care much for books unless she had to, and even then they were her favorite. So the two of them together created one averagely intelligent person.

Which is why she was so shocked he asked for her help and not his boyf- his friend Viktors help.

When she finally met up with him, they got right to work, and almost just as soon as they started they quickly realized they weren’t going to actually be able to get any of this done. Vi couldn’t focus, she was more focused on being able to ask you out. Her mind raced with possible ways to go about it and none of them seemed just right. In a momentary lapse of judgment, Vi turned to Jayce and without a single ounce of hesitation asked,

“How do you ask a girl out?”

Silence. Complete silence fell over the two.

“You’re asking… me?” Jayce asked while pointing at himself before looking behind him as if there could’ve been anyone else she was asking.

“Duh Talis. You asked Mel, didnt you? How did you do it?” She asked, completely disregarding the work she had in front of her. Figuring out a solution to her dilemma was much more important.

“Well I wouldn't say I asked her out, it was more of a ‘what are we?’ Kind of a situation.” He explained, avoiding eye contact with Vi the whole time as she exasperatedly put her head down on the table, her hands clasped together in a plea of desperation.

“Any words of wisdom, any at all, just give me something here pretty boy and I’ll ACTUALLY try to help you with your work.” She pleaded, which was a fairly rare sight.

Jayce knew this which made it too tempting to not say no. So he agreed, albeit reluctantly as he knew there was fuck all he could actually help with but god damn it he was going to try.

“Okay, so have you ever heard of the shoulder touch?” He asked, his hands clasped together in front of his mouth as he looked towards Vi like some evil mastermind.

Vi raised an eyebrow at him, immediately regretting her decision to ask him.

“No. No I haven’t.”

It was fairly straight forward, all she had to do was put her hand on your shoulder and say ‘hey’. An immediate guaranteed swoon, as Jayce put it. Vi decided that was enough evidence for her and made her exact plan to try and ask you out.

Luckily it wasn’t long before she got to see you again and she immediately attempted to put the plan into action.

“Remember what he said, gotta go slow, can’t rush or it’ll be awkward.” Vi thought to herself as she walked up to you, trying to look as casual as possible.

“Wait why the fuck am I taking advice from Jayce of all people he can’t even-“

“Hey Vi.” You said which quickly snapped her out of her thoughts. She hadn’t realized she practically made her way right in front of you as you stayed leaning on the wall behind you.

Perfect opportunity.

You looked at her confused as she suddenly took her hand out of her pocket and reached towards your shoulder and leaned forward just the slightest bit. What she didn’t account for was how much farther away you were than she thought, she was so focused on not fucking up that she managed to mess up the simplest part.

Standing close to you.

She quickly stopped herself from falling forward as her hand slammed against the wall behind you, saving herself from a fall as well as managing to repurpose her shoulder touch to something that looked equally purposeful.

“Hey.” She greeted calmly as if she meant to do that the whole time. In your eyes, it went incredibly smoothly except for that split second where she looked terrified that she was falling forward.

It was then that Vi realized.

What does she say now?

Immediately all the confidence she held on her face disappeared as she simply looked at you, then the wall then back at you as if some answers would just appear.

“Are you okay?” You asked, a little concerned by her sudden change in demeanor.

“Would you maybe wanna go on a date with me, at some point, some time.”

“Such a way with words.” You laughed before nodding with a smile.

“Shut up you know what I meant.” She rolled her eyes.

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dokidokitsuna · 4 months ago

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GameSwap!AU #2

Thank @earthykinous for this idea; I saw it in the tags of the first GameSwap and immediately knew I had to give it a try ^^

-Taranza seems like a very ‘devoted’ character, the kind who very easily latches on to personal influences…so as part of the HWC, I think he would be just as involved with the Mother Computer as Haltmann, maybe even more so, just to be able to share something with him. Just in general, he’d be agonized about his father not recognizing him anymore, and desperate to prove his worth despite it, trying to replace familial love with company loyalty in a VERY toxic-positive way. ^^ And besides, if he uses that control helmet often enough, maybe he’ll lose all his painful memories too… And in this scenario…maybe the reason Haltmann dies is because he sacrifices himself to Star Dream to save Taranza somehow, finally recognizing his son when he realizes he’s about to lose him again. OR, maybe he just feels like Taranza is too important to lose without knowing why, leaving only Taranza to bear the true emotional weight of that sacrifice.

-I think Susie is a more mature character than Taranza– despite her sad backstory, she seems to handle her situation well during the game, and doesn’t even seem that affected by Haltmann’s death post-game. If it’s not maturity, at the very least it’s a much lower level of emotional attachment.

So how would she go about dealing with her crush mutating into a tyrannical insect queen? I think she would actually just lose respect for her, and end up turning on her.

Despite staying by her side and aiding in her conquest, she would secretly be plotting her downfall: praising and obeying Sectonia to her face, while trying to undermine her in the background…keep your friends close and your enemies closer, as they say. Rather than mistakenly capturing the wrong ‘Hero of the Lower World’, Susie would’ve picked Dedede on purpose, knowing that Kirby was the ‘real’ hero who would come to save him AND defeat Sectonia. She’d then pretend to oppose him throughout the game, throwing challenging bosses his way to prepare him to face the Queen…and finally, she’d reveal her true motivations once Dedede has been freed.

But maybe, just to bring back the stakes and drama…maybe Sectonia overhears this reveal, and enters the scene. Through the ensuing argument, we could learn a bit about how Sectonia became evil in the actual game, and have Susie basically call her out, admitting to her treachery and daring her Queen to do something about it. To throw away the last shred of their former friendship, once and for all.

Which Sectonia does, of course, and from there the rest of the game could proceed like normal. Only, I think Susie’s characterization as a tough-yet-caring friend and a twist-hero would make her return with the Miracle Fruit a lot more satisfying. Rather than failing to see how evil Sectonia had become until it personally affected her, she knew exactly how far-gone she was, and put her life on the line to try and wake Sectonia up. And despite losing that gamble, despite witnessing her friend choose to become a monster in more ways than one, she survived and came back to help us end the battle. ^^ I think that would be really heartwarming~

#kirby #fan art #susie haltmann #taranza #I’m REALLY getting into these AUs ^^

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suugarbabe · 6 months ago

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Origin Stories

summary: baby first year matty arrives at hogwarts and the first person he interacts with seems to not know him at all. matty is unsure how to feel when someone treats him like just another person instead of the dark lords son

warnings: fluff, little bit o angst, sad baby matty

an: something my hubby @musingsofahufflepuff and i have been yapping about constantly, there's more where this came from, and yes...it will continue to hurt you

Knees pulled to his chest, he sat at the window watching all the happy and excited parents dropping their children off for their first time at Hogwarts. It was Mattheo’s first time too, but instead of parents dropping him off he had Feindre, his house elf.

Feindre had gotten him there early enough for Mattheo to be one of the first students on the train and stayed long enough for Mattheo to see Feindre give a gentle wave before snapping his fingers and disappearing from the platform.

That’s what he’d been doing for the last half hour; watching family after family give loving hugs and cheek kisses and bidding their children farewell. Even Mr. Nott had come with his wife to see Theo off, giving a firm squeeze to the skinny boy's shoulder and a curt nod.

The whistle blew overhead and Mattheo leaned his head back, closing his eyes and willing himself to think of at least one positive thing that may come for him this year. He’d be away from his mother; that was a plus. As far as Mattheo was aware even she couldn’t get onto the grounds without the proper permissions; that gave Mattheo at least four months free from torture.

As the train started to pull from the station he heard the train car door slide open, an entirely too excited voice suddenly speaking to him, “D’you mind? Every other car has four or so kids in it.” Mattheo shrugged his shoulders, not even opening his eyes to look.

He knew he didn’t recognize the voice. His cousin Draco’s was a little higher pitched, whiney. Theo’s was slower, like he had to think about each word before he said it. This voice was more neutral, but seemed to be speaking quickly, like they had so many thoughts and feelings they couldn’t get them out quick enough.

“S’kinda weird we had to walk through a wall to get on the platform, right? Magic is so cool.” Mattheo peered an eye open, chancing a glance at the person across from him. It seemed as if you were vibrating, sitting cross legged on the seat across from him, hands braced on either side as your knees held a steady bounce.

Your smile was nearly splitting your face; Mattheo couldn’t decide if your question was indicative of a muggle upbringing or just the first born for your family. “So what house do you want to get into? I was doing some light reading in one of our textbooks, Hogwarts: A History, and I think any of them will be good.”

Definitely muggle, Mattheo thought to himself as you kept talking, “I know that Hufflepuffs are very loyal, Ravenclaws are super smart I guess, Slytherins apparently are really clever and I read that Gryffindors are supposed to be just the bravest.” The scoff leaves Mattheos throat quicker than he could control.

“Well do you think differently? I know I can talk a lot but I’m also a good listener.” Mattheo lifted his head up at this, now choosing to stare at you with a quirked brow. You continued to press regardless, “What house do you think you’ll be in?” Mattheo stared out the window once more, watching the highland mountains pass by, “I already know my house.” This statement piqued your interest, “What do you think it is?”

Mattheo used all his mental energy not to roll his eyes, “I’ll be a Slytherin, my family has only ever been Slytherins.” You seemed to sit up straighter then, your tone getting more excited, if that was even possible, “So you’re from a family of wizards then? That’s so cool, what’s it like?”

He stared at you incredulously, “You being serious?” You simply tilted your head, smile never leaving your face, “Both of my parents are normal, erm, non-wizards? I don’t know what you guys call them but that’s what they are.”

Mattheo wore an unimpressed look, “Shocker…never would have guessed by your raging enthusiasm.” You laughed softly, “I know, right. Mum cried for like an hour when I got my letter.” Mattheo sat up straighter then, eyes widening. He could feel his heart rate pick up slightly, a tinge of sweat beading on the back of his neck, “Why, because she was disappointed, was she mad? Where did you hide after she stopped crying?”

You looked at him with confusion, shaking your head and a small bit of concern in your tone, “What? No, because she was just so happy for me…” Mattheo shrank into himself, pulling his knees back up to his chest, “Right, yeah, a’course.”

You fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, “So, ehm, do you know people who are coming to Hogwarts then? I don’t know anyone…well, except you now. What, erm, what was your name again?” Mattheo visibly stiffened. You could just be being polite, asking for his name like he was just any other student. Or his reputation precedes him even with muggle-born first years and you’re just too scared to tell him that you already know about him, his father, what he’s done. “Mattheo…erm, Riddle.” You nodded, “Cool name! I’m y/n y/l/n.”

Mattheo can’t help the quizzical look that takes over him at how breezily you move on and introduce yourself. How can you not be afraid of him, of his name. Not that he wants you to be, but if you’ve been reading as much as you say, surely you’ve heard of what his father has done.

But all of it seems nonexistent as you start talking again, “Do you think we’ll have to wear those little cone hats I’ve seen in the textbook? They’re not very fashionable are they? And I’m sure you wouldn’t want to wear one either.” Mattheo took the bait, “Why would you think I wouldn’t want to wear one?”

You shrugged, smiling a little shyer than before, “Well because of your hair. If I had curls as pretty as yours I wouldn’t want to have to cover them up all the time.” The heat on Mattheo’s cheeks was nearly instantaneous, then he started to feel a bit of rage, “Are you making fun of me?”

You shook your head fiercely, “Oh no, no way! I figured you got complimented on your hair all the time.” Compliment? You were complimenting him. Why would you do that? What were you playing at? Mattheo was fighting an internal battle, not understanding why you were being so nice to him and trying desperately to understand the new feeling fluttering in his chest at your compliment.

Thankfully the door to the train car opens and a jolly looking woman displays a trolly full of sweets and snacks in the doorway; the perfect distraction.

“Anything from the trolly, dears?” You’re excited once more, leaving your seat to get a closer look at the sweets. You turn towards Mattheo, “What’s your favorite candy? I’ve never heard of any of these before…chocolate frogs, cauldron cakes, fizzing whizzbees-”

“The last one’s good I- erm, I think you’d like those,” Mattheo watched as you asked the trolly witch for one pack of cauldron cakes and two fizzing whizzbees. “That’ll be two galleons and a sickle, dear,” the trolly witch smiled kindly at you.

You pulled a handful of wizard coins from your pocket looking slightly confused. Mattheo cleared his throat, “Two gold ones and a silver one.” You nodded, taking the coins he described and exchanging them for your sweets. Sitting back down across from him you began opening your cauldron cakes.

You placed one on top of one of the fizzing whizzbees pack and then held it in front of you towards Mattheo. “What’re you doing?” he asked, finding your behavior rather odd, even for a muggle. You only smiled in return, “This is your half silly.”

Mattheo hesitantly took the sweets, “Why would you share with me?” You sat back, taking a bite of the cauldron cake and humming in satisfaction, “Why wouldn’t I share with you?” you spoke around a cheek full of cake, “These are really good by the way.”

Mattheo felt a weird pang in his chest, something he didn’t recognize. It was almost like an adrenaline rush but he wasn’t in danger this time; his skin felt hot all of a sudden, his blood rushing to his ears. He pulled subtly on his curls on the side of his head, not sure exactly what he was trying to cover up. You didn’t take notice regardless, too engrossed in the foreign treat of your new world.

The next few hours are filled with you making conversation, mostly one sided but you don’t even seem to notice. You’re the most at ease person Mattheo has ever met, finding interest in the smallest of things.

You talk about your family, and you do so with so much admiration and what Mattheo can only assume is love that he finds himself starting to get jealous. He does his best to shove that feeling down, like he does with most feelings. You’re the first person in his life that doesn’t seem to know him, his family, what that entails and he’d be damned if he let something like jealousy mess that up.

You try to ask him about his life, but he’s keeping it brief, somewhat deflective. He tells you that his father is not around, not dead but…working. He doesn’t know a good way to explain that his father has bits of his soul everywhere and your lack of knowledge on magical existence seems like that bit of information would cause your already highly wired brain to short circuit.

When you ask about his mum he stiffens involuntarily, “She’s, erm, passionate about me following in my father’s footsteps. Bit of an anger problem sometimes if I disagree about it.” You nod, a small frown on your face but seemingly understanding to not push the subject of his mothers anger further, “What’s your dad do?”

Mattheo’s eyes go wide, panic starting to spread through his body. He can feel himself starting to sweat as he looks out the window, trying to come up with an answer that’s not the truth when he sees his saving grace, “Look, Hogwarts.”

If you’d had turned your head any faster Mattheo was sure it would have rolled off your shoulders and onto the car floor. Whatever he had anticipated Hogwarts to look like, his imagination could never have done it justice; and Mattheo hid in his imagination often at home.

Your nose was nearly pressed to the window, “Wicked.” Mattheo felt the corners of his mouth pull into a smile, half wishing the two of you never had to leave the train and could just stay here, in this bubble where you don’t know the horrible truths that come with being associated with him.

As the train slowed to a stop, a whistle blew and the two of you noticed a flurry of students starting to clog the aisle between cars. “Guess that’s our cue,” you stood up, looking towards Mattheo and waiting for him to do the same. “You coming?” you opened the car door, looking back at him. “Erm, yeah. Yeah okay,” Mattheo pulled the hood of his cloak up and you gave him a curious look.

“Heard it’s supposed to be a bit chilly on the ride up to the castle,” he shoved his hands in his pockets, now staring down at the floor. You shrugged it off, only turning to join the plethora of students once you knew Mattheo was following behind.

You couldn’t help but marvel at the giant man that led the pack of first years to what looked like ancient wooden boats. You looked everywhere you could, trying to drink in the whole experience; whereas Mattheo kept his head down, hood up and eyes on the bottom of the boat. If he did this long enough, maybe no one but you would know who he was until he was being sorted.

Once docked by the castle the pack of you were led through the castle by an older, stern looking witch. She had introduced herself as Professor McGonagall. As she led you through the castle you kept tugging on Mattheo’s sleeve. Every so often he would peek from the side of his hood and give you a half smile.

Once in front of what you learned to be the Great Hall, McGonagall stopped all of you, giving a quick speech. “Once inside you will all be sorted into your houses. Once your house has been announced please make your way to your house table. Banners above will lead you to the correct one. During each breakfast and lunch you will be able to mingle with other houses. However, dinners are strictly restricted to your own house tables.” You turned to Mattheo, whispering, “This is so exciting!” Mattheo gives an undignified hum with a small nod as the doors to the great all open, he can feel his heart rate quicken as all the older students turn to watch the group of first years file in. Will people notice him? Can he hear them whispering his name?

His automatic negative thoughts are interrupted by you gripping his arm lightly. Immediately he flinches away and you begin apologizing, “Oh, I’m sorry Matty, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Mattheo shook his head, hoping his cheeks weren't flushing at the nickname you decided to don on him, “N-no, sorry. S’just I- erm, have this thing about people grabbing me…sorry.”

You shake your head as if to dismiss his apology as unnecessary, “S’my fault, I just get so excited. Look up there, it’s the sorting hat, I read about it in the same textbook as the houses; that’s what’s gonna tell us where we go.”

Mattheo could feel his stomach knotting. He knew he would be sorted into Slytherin; the blood in his veins guaranteed it. But, Merlin, did he hope you were sorted there too. It would be nice to have an actual friend there with him, not just his irritating cousin and the sons of his father’s loyal followers.

He was pretty sure they were only nice to him out of fear. Did you want to get sorted with him too? Did you consider him a friend? You were already far too nice to him; far too nice for your own good he thought. There’s no way you actually got sorted into Slytherin; it‘d be a bloody miracle.

Too lost in his worries spinning over and over in his head he seemed to have missed everyone before him getting sorted, being pulled from his thoughts for the second time that evening by Professor McGonagalls booming voice speaking his name, “Mattheo Riddle.”

A hushed whisper seemed to fall over all of the students and even some of the professors at the head table. Mattheo gave you a worried glance, but you only smiled encouragingly back at him. Either you didn’t notice the whispers, or you didn’t care; Mattheo wasn’t sure which option had him feeling that same weird pang in his chest that he felt on the train.

He needn’t push his way through the crowd of first years as they seemed to part willingly for him. He slowly climbed his way up the steps and pulled himself up onto the stool, legs dangling in front of him. The professor placed the sorting hat atop his head.

It felt two sizes too big, falling down and covering his eyes, now encasing him in darkness. It was actually much better this way, Mattheo would rather pass than watch the judgment in everyone’s eyes, especially if they came from yours. “Hmm, Riddle, eh?” the hat spoke loudly, much to Mattheo’s dismay, “Well there’s simply no question then is there. Why of course it's…SLYTHERIN!”

The slytherin table broke out into cheers, but they seemed to be the only students to do so apart from your clapping in the first year crowd. The hat was pulled from Mattheo’s head and he searched for your face. He found you beaming, giving him a double thumbs up as he made his way down the steps and toward his house table.

He clocked his cousin Draco immediately, platinum hair sticking out like a traffic cone. His cousin tried to greet him, along with the others at the table. But Mattheo ignored them all, turning instead to face the stool you would soon be sitting at and be told your fate.

When your name was finally called Mattheo sat up straighter, nearly leaning forward as if that would help him hear more clearly. As you made your way onto the stool you looked over at the Slytherin table. Making eye contact with Mattheo you gave a quick wave. Warmth spread throughout his body and he found himself giving a small wave back.

The whining pitch of Draco’s voice appeared on Mattheo’s right, “Who is that, cousin?” Mattheo watched as you took a deep breath in as the hat was placed on your head, full of pride he made the statement, “That’s my friend.” Draco was obviously confused, “I didn’t know you had any friends besides us.”

Mattheo turned his sights away from you briefly to stare Draco in the eyes, “You’re not my friend. You’re my cousin, I’m forced to be around you. And if you keep talking I’ll hex out your tongue so I never have to hear your annoying voice again.” Draco held his hands up in defense, scooting over slightly on the bench.

Turning back to you Mattheo watched as your legs bounced excitedly, just as they did on the train and Mattheo found himself smiling. This smile slowly dropped as the hat began to narrate the internal battle you seemed to be having with it.

“You want to be Slytherin, is that so? Mmm…curious, curious indeed. I do sense a bit of cunning, but your loyalty is much stronger. Better be…HUFFLEPUFF!” The tables throughout the hall cheered for you as they did every other student being sorted. Your smile never faded but Mattheo felt like his whole world was collapsing.

There was a pain in his side that felt like someone was hexing him with a stinging jinx and his breaths were becoming more shallow. Usually he only felt like this when being punished by his mother, but in that case she was likely actually cursing him.

It seemed like the massive walls of the great hall were closing in on him as he saw you being greeted by the students at your house table. Everything from the last few hours was going to be thrown away in an instant. They would all tell you who he was, what he was, why you should hate him. And surely you’ll believe them, won’t you? Then he’ll be alone once more.

As if to twist the knife that was already being pushed between his ribs, Draco’s irritating voice was coming from next to him again, “Well cousin, guess they’re not your friend any longer.”

#eeeeeeeeeep #so excited for this little series #if you're feeling sadness don’t worry #its not over #there's more angst and sadness to come #you can thank my darling husband for the yap sessions that brewed this painful creation #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle fic #mattheo riddle imagine #slytherin boys #origin stories series

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animatewarriorcats · 1 month ago

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Sunbeam! I love her, she is my Starless Clan MVP. She is the daughter of Berryheart and Sparrowtail, sister to Hollowspring and Spireclaw. She is mentored by Snaketooth and is an allegiances only warrior in the Broken code arc. As a protagonist, she is very relatable and kind, despite her mother's efforts to inspire xenophobia, and generally sees the good in other people. She doesn't like being treated like she is helpless, and feels frustrated when members of her clan feel pity for her loss of friendship with Lightleap and romantic relationship with Blazefire. She recognizes that though She and Nightheart have good rapport his choice to join Shadowclan to the conceived notion of her clan that they have a deeper relationship was premature, and though she helps him genuinely and feels fond of him over time, those feelings are developed as he tries to prove himself to shadowclan and not before. In my opinion, I actually liked that she and Nightheart developed a relationship by spending time together in Shadowclan and to me her move to Thunderclan feels well paced (at least compared to some other ships) even though I was skeptical before reading the books. And I liked that she had to fall in love with Thunderclan on her own merit. When Nightheart returns it is to the gathering where she stands up to her mother and claims she Joined Thunderclan not for her mate, but because it is where she feels like she belongs.

She is devastated when Berryheart is killed, and buries her body in it's designated lonely grave by the lake before attending her funeral in Shadowclan. Despite the lengths to which her mother goes Sunbeam still sees the good in her and mourns her deeply. As a character she is very steady in her ability to see the positive in any cat or situation, and despite the way others may treat her as fragile she doesn't grow hard or try to be brave out of insecurity, but continues to be fair and kind without needing to prove herself through being brazen or rude. I really liked reading her perspectives, and she reminds me a lot of my best friend for the strong ties she has to her family which are balanced with her perseverance in maintaining her own identity and beliefs.

I made her a cryptid tortishell despite that being genetically impossible (unless berryheart is also a cryptid tortie which. idk maybe it's under the white) because she has a ginger son. She is now the mentor to Moonpaw and continues to be a source of steady strength in the Changing Skies arc.

#Sunbearm #Shadowclan #Thunderclan #Warrior #warriorcats #warriors #warrior designs #warriors designs #warriorcats designs #warrior cats designs #warrior cats #warrior cat designs #warriorcat designs

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antianakin · 2 months ago

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I feel like I've seen stories and posts where Leia learns to recognize the complexity and nuance of Anakin's situation enough to sympathize with him and even forgive him, but I hardly ever see it go the OTHER WAY when it comes to Padme.

While it's entirely possible that she learned about Padme, both as a political figure and even as "her mother" (even if she was never given a name in order to connect the two figures), it was likely always in a positive way. Padme was influential and kind and strong and fierce and beloved. Her mother was loving and fearless and wise.

But then she has to learn who her father was and a LOT of what she believes about her mother has to become really questionable. How did someone she's only ever known as strong and wise and kind end up falling love with someone who became a monster? How did the woman that Obi-Wan Kenobi described as DISCERNING not see through someone like Anakin Skywalker? As sympathetic as she knows Luke views him to be, the traits that made Anakin Skywalker into Darth Vader wouldn't have come out of nowhere. At best, she has to assume that her mother was just lied to, same as Obi-Wan was perhaps. That she knew he struggled, but not that he had THAT kind of darkness in him.

And then somehow, maybe through Luke who perhaps started asking questions to Anakin's ghost in order to learn more about the mother the Larses hadn't been able to really tell him about, she learns that that wasn't true. That her mother had known Anakin could and had killed children. That her mother had once been scared of her own husband. That she had gone against the rules of her own government and married a Jedi and then lied about it to keep her job.

And it's DEVASTATING. How does she reconcile these two (maybe even three) versions of Padme Amidala she's now heard about? The loving woman who had just wanted to be a mother. The fierce leader who fought for the helpless. And the selfish wife who lied and covered up a massacre and stayed with a man who frightened her when he was angry. Which one was true? Surely they can't ALL be true. Surely one of them has to be less true than the others.

But of course, that's not quite how it works. People are complicated. People who do good things can also be selfish in other ways. People can make mistakes when believing that they're trying to help. Padme Amidala was many things to many people. She's not really sure that Anakin Skywalker was the person who knew her best, not with what she's heard from Luke at least. So she goes to Naboo. She learns what she can about Queen Amidala there. She meets the Naberries and her aunt and her grandparents and cousins are still alive and she hears the stories THEY have to tell about the girl they'd known and how they'd lost her. She meets what's left of the Amidalans and hears about the Queen and the Senator from the people who'd been trained to BECOME her if necessary. All of them have different things to say.

Maybe they're all real. The passionate little girl who just wanted to help people. The steely Queen who wanted more than anything to never go through a war again and was willing to fight for that ideal. The desperate tired woman who gave all of herself to her people, her planet, and her galaxy and so the only thing she had left that was solely her own was a secret marriage with a dangerous man who told her he couldn't live without her. She starts to see the threads that tie all the Padmes together, the triumphs and the losses, the path that led to her doom at the hands of the husband she'd thought she'd loved.

She'll never be able to speak to Padme the way Luke can speak to Anakin, she'll never be able to know how Padme truly felt about everything that happened to her, how Padme feels about who her children became. But she thinks she can finally accept that her mother had been a complicated person. A good one sometimes, usually even, but also a selfish one who might've helped enable the rise of a monster who had ended up destroying Leia's home and family. She thinks she can love the woman she's only able to know through other people's stories and memories, but she hopes she can learn from Padme's mistakes and not follow her mother's footsteps to her own doom.

#star wars #leia organa #padme amidala

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arabella0001 · 23 days ago

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Hiiii

Reminder for kakashi x foreign fem story

Please pls 🥺

finally FINALLY i finished

｡˚ fandom: naruto

pairing: kakashi hatake x reader

request scenario: kakashi is falling in love with a refugee civillian who doesn't speak konoha's language

cn: slow burn, lots of fluff, loss of virginity. over 6k words

༄

After the war, Tsunade was more than happy to hand over the Hokage position to Kakashi. Especially knowing just how much he didn’t want it. Tormenting him over and over again with mundane tasks—after all, she knew what it was like to have a mountain of paperwork stacked on your desk from morning to night.

As Kakashi skimmed through the documents, one finger pressed between his brows from stress, he sensed Tsunade’s presence before she even entered. It’s not like he didn’t already know the rhythm of her footsteps.

“What a lovely day to be Hokage, don’t you think, Kakashi?”

You followed her into the office slowly, hands folded in front of you, gaze slightly lowered.

“Ha-ha, really funny, Tsunade. Sure you don’t mind switching pla—”

But the words caught on his tongue as his eyes lifted—at first set on Tsunade—until he saw you, standing just behind her.

Tsunade gave him an almost wicked smile, bringing her hands together like she was about to applaud.

“Today, we have a new visitor. Or should I say… a new member of the village.”

Kakashi narrowed his eyes. Who are you?

He couldn’t quite see your face—not until you lifted it, leaving him utterly speechless.

No, he didn’t know you. Hell, there was no way he wouldn’t recognize you if he had. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a woman more beautiful. Your features were like something out of his grandmother’s stories about angelic beings—not quite human, radiating warmth with every graceful movement, mesmerizing without even trying.

But knowing his nature, Tsunade didn’t catch much of a reaction on his face (well, the half of it not covered by his mask), except for the slight widening of his eyes. She didn’t know that Kakashi’s cheeks had flushed with boyish embarrassment, mercifully hidden. Saving him.

And if his mind wasn’t already halfway to breaking, you started to speak—with a tone so soothing it felt like balm to his soul. He could’ve listened to it forever. Though, oddly, your intonation felt foreign.

You said simply, “Nice to meet you, Hokage.”

Kakashi responded almost instantly, voice flat but carrying a clear eagerness.

“The pleasure is mine.” A short pause. “Who are you?”

As your eyes were still locked on eachother , Tsunade couldn’t help but chuckle, barely managing to snap him out of the trance you’d put him in.

“Don’t get too excited yet, Kakashi. She’s a civilian refugee from the nearby forest. Got separated from her people after the war. She doesn’t speak our language.”

“What?!” Kakashi cleared his throat, his voice cracking slightly from how shocked he’d sounded. “Well… that’s a shame. I’ll make sure everything’s arranged so she feels at home here.”

Tsunade answered in a dismissive tone, heading for the door.

“Great. Because I’m leaving her under your responsibility anyway. I’ll only handle her training—her abilities are far too interesting to be taught by anyone other than me.”

But Kakashi didn’t hear anything past the first part. His responsibility? He couldn’t say he was unhappy to hear that. But his primal thoughts responded immediately: How the hell am I supposed to control myself around someone like you every day? Damn it, Tsunade.

You bowed respectfully before following Tsunade out of his office.

Only after you left did Kakashi sink back into his chair, head tilted up as he exhaled deeply, staring blankly at the ceiling.

༄

Kakashi had spent the past few days hunting for a book—any book—that could translate your language into theirs. Not that he cared about the reports piling up on his desk, now doubled in number thanks to his little quest. At least now he’d have a solid excuse when he inevitably asked Tsunade for help.

Or the fact that he’d spent more time reading about your origins than he had with his beloved comfort book, Icha-Icha. Which, frankly, was far more concerning.

He managed to carve out a break in his schedule and made his way toward your group. Kurenai was all smiles (and this time, it wasn’t just because Asuma was sitting beside her, toothpick tucked at the corner of his mouth—a habit he’d picked up to help quit smoking, something he’d promised Kurenai since she became pregnant).

No, her smile was clearly directed at you—you, dressed in something completely unexpected, completely contradictory to what Kakashi had imagined you might wear. A stunning, long dress that looked like it belonged to a fairy. Not that he was complaining—your training clothes, most likely chosen intentionally by Tsunade to distract him even further, already fit you perfectly.

The dark green, form-fitting outfit, complete with empty pockets likely meant for kunai (their weapons stock hadn’t been updated in a month), hugged your body like it was tailored for you.

He struggled to pull his gaze away from you—though you somehow sensed it immediately, your eyes turning toward him first as he approached with calm, measured steps.

Asuma gave Kakashi a slight nod of acknowledgment, accompanied by Kurenai’s warm greeting. Tsunade, hand on her hip, was the first to speak.

“Rough nights, huh?” she remarked, clearly referring to the exhaustion under Kakashi’s eyes—worsened ever since he began researching you far more than he probably should have.

Kakashi just shot her a warning glare, his expression friendly enough for public display, before she continued.

“Looks like our foreigner here has an inclination for medical jutsu. But also… brute force. Ironic, huh? Just like me and Sakura.”

The first one seemed fitting for you. But the second? He couldn’t picture you splitting the earth in two with a single punch. The more he learned about you, the deeper he dug himself into the pit of his barely-contained curiosity.

Still, his voice tried to remain neutral.

“That’s good news.” Then he added, “I found a dictionary translating her language into ours. We’re going to try teaching her to speak it… but also teach ourselves enough to show some respect for her homeland.”

He paused, collecting himself before finally meeting your gaze—those intense, difficult-to-hold eyes—and addressed you, a little uncertain, in your native language.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I hope we’ll get along well.”

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest—not just because you spoke back, but because you smiled for the first time. He didn’t think it was possible for you to be more beautiful… and yet.

You responded with a hint of excitement, your eyes sparkling sweetly.

“Nice to meet you too! I’ll do my best to become one of you. Thank you for welcoming me!”

Well, Kakashi thought, looks like I’m not the only one who made an effort to learn her language.

His eyes softened, reflecting your smile with one of his own—genuine, though subtle.

Neither of you noticed the way the others were watching, a knowing look in their eyes. It was like no one else existed in that moment—just the two of you, with a delicate thread of tension starting to form between your worlds.

But Tsunade had to ruin it, a playful disgust bubbling up inside her at all the sweetness.

“Well, my time here is up. Good luck with your teaching, Hokage.”

She tossed Kakashi a mocking look, while Kurenai and Asuma followed her out—sensing ttoo, that it was probably time to leave.

And in that moment, Kakashi felt just a little helpless, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly before turning to you again.

“Ahm… okay. Let’s find a more comfortable place before I introduce you to Konoha’s world. Come with me.”

You didn’t understand half of what he said—but the tone in his voice was enough for your feet to follow him without question.

༄

Kakashi couldn’t think of anywhere safer to take you than his office. Even though it feels a bit too intimate for him to share his personal space this much, he figures it’s necessary—if he really wants to help you.

“Ahm, tea?” he glances over his shoulder as he pours himself a cup of green tea, gesturing toward the teapot so you understand what he means. You nod in agreement, a small smile playing on your lips as you curiously echo,

“Tea?”

He quickly turns to pour you a cup too, a little flustered by how cute you are in your cluelessness.

He hands it to you while maintaining eye contact. You accept it with a smile. His lips press into a thin line as he awkwardly moves to sit in his chair, shrugging off his Hokage cloak—which he finds a little stupid sometimes wearing it.

He doesn’t realize you’ve had red ears since the moment you walked into the room.

He glances at you again, unsure where to begin. But your curious gaze manages to snap him out of the hypnosis your eyes creates..

“Right, so… we should start with language first.” He looks at you for a second before translating it into your language and writing it on a piece of paper with his pen. You can’t really see from where you’re sitting, and he notices.

“C-come closer.”

He gestures for you to sit next to him, but ends up standing and dragging your chair over himself.

Damn.

He realizes—too late—that this was a mistake. His suspicion is confirmed the second he catches a hint of your scent. Or maybe it’s just your natural smell. It makes him a little dizzy, but he composes his voice quickly.

“Here and here—” he says, circling the words he just translated on the page.

You respond with a short but genuine, “Okay.”

After a few hours, Kakashi managed to pretend your presence doesn’t affect him. His usual seriousness returned. You’ve made it past basic expressions and greetings, which is good. He noticed you have a strong memory—though he’d love to know what your real personality is like.

Though his stoicism came back and he’s no longer delusional about what he feels around you, something unusual for him, but, on your end—you’ve grown more observant.

Since meeting him, you’ve started unconsciously seeking him out with your eyes whenever he’s around, and his voice sticks in your mind more than anyone else’s. Of course, you never want to disrespect the Hokage, but still—it’s hard not to wonder what he looks like without the mask. Or even deeper: who he is beneath the mask and title. How the scar under his eye only intensifies his gaze, pulling you out of the present moment sometimes. Your thoughts always arrive at the same quiet, unwavering conclusion. “Beautiful.”

Which is why, by the end of the session, you’re a little distracted. You’re listening—but not really. You nod, but don’t fully comprehend.

Kakashi has started to pick up on your little reactions and expressions. His experience reading people—especially what they don’t say—helps too.

So when you go quiet, his brows furrow slightly. He flips through the dictionary, then starts speaking slowly but clearly:

“That’s enough for today. You look tired.”

Blink. Another blink.

Now you’re no longer spacing out—your cheeks flush, and Kakashi can’t tell if it’s because of how close you are to his face or because he caught you not paying attention, even though your eyes had been tracing every curve of his face.

“Sorry, I—I—”

You quickly get up, prompting him to stand too. You subtly wipe your sweaty palms on the tight, uncomfortable pants you’re still wearing from your intense training with Tsunade.

Impressive woman, you think.

Kakashi watches as you move to the other side of the desk, bowing slightly, and say,

“Thank you!”

What surprises you is that you think you heard something like a chuckle from him. Oh, he should laugh more.

Kakashi speaks just as you’re about to leave:

“No worries. See you tomorrow.”

You at least understood the first part before stepping out of the room, not forgetting to give him a grateful smile.

After the door clicks shut and your footsteps fade, Kakashi lets out a breath, shoulders relaxing as he stands in the middle of the office, still facing the door you left through.

But somehow, now, it’s different—because he smirked. As he sets his ridiculously big hat down on his desk, his hair tousled in all directions, a thought settles in.

So I’m not the only one affected by your presence

༄

Today, Kakashi decided to show you the most sacred places in Konoha. First, he waited for you after your training with Tsunade, leaning against a tree with his arms lazily crossed.

It’s his day off, so his clothes are finally normal now.

Though “that black t-shirt without sleeves” distracted you instantly when you saw him from the training field. Your eyes avoiding him a little more, just to make sure it’s not obvious that his prominent muscles, painted by that red tattoo that makes him even more attractive, are affecting your brain chemistry. You don’t want to give the impression of unseriousness or, even worse, to behave inappropriately towards him.

It’s not easy for Kakashi either — he got to see a bit of your abilities. And seeing how your chakra-enhanced strength was acting was a true sight to witness. His eyes widened especially when your small fist landed a brutal hit into the ground — taijutsu really suits you. Still, he couldn’t stop his gaze when you bent down slightly to stretch your back after that hit.

Tsunade let out a theatrical sigh after how much work you did — meaning just giving you commands and pushing you to the limit — but she always loves to dramatize a little.

Her steady gaze, which defines her confidence in herself, settled on Kakashi as you both approached him.

“Day off, huh?” Looking him up and down before teasing him like she always does.

“Poor Kakashi, so little time for your disgusting books. What a shame you’ll miss out on Konoha’s streets.”

Kakashi let out just an annoyed huff — their sibling-like relationship sometimes gets the best of him.

“Wow, your observation skills are truly groundbreaking.” A pause. “Or not.”

Tsunade rolled her eyes at that, before he added:

“In fact, I don’t mind.”

Finally, looking at you and giving you a small smile before greeting you.

“Hello. Good to see you.”

It’s hard for him to choose the appropriate greeting expression in order not to overstep. So the words left his lips almost forced.

“Hey, Hokage-sama!”

You bow politely, while Kakashi slightly widens his eyes and waves his hands in disapproval, a bit embarrassed.

“Hah, no need for—”

Tsunade lets out a snort at that, tossing her ponytails over her shoulder with her usual assertiveness.

She didn’t bother to announce her leaving after seeing how you both act like teenagers — even if it’s quite a show — the slow build between you that she anticipated from the first time the lone wolf Kakashi laid eyes on you.

You’re not different either — women can tell pretty quickly when another woman has a thing for a man, you don’t even have to speak the same language.

༄

While you were both immersed in each other’s presence, your eyes sometimes slipped down to his body, which drew too much attention. You’re almost ashamed to admit you don’t want anyone else to see him right now or admire him. Not that he noticed anything, especially now, focused only on taking you to as many places as possible and explaining things.

“So … it’s … a …”

Your words start forming much better than before — he couldn’t help but feel a little proud of you.

“That’s …? Konoha Toshodokoro?

“Yes, indeed.”

Even though he talks more than you sometimes, somehow it helps you understand better. Hard to believe, but you actually managed to laugh together when he tried to show you how … it works, his hands miming clumsily — it was too funny how awkward he was, and for a moment you felt even closer to him.

Your laughter grew louder after he scolded you playfully:

“That’s mean, don’t laugh. I’m trying to help.”

But his smile (too big, though — he’s lucky it’s hidden) said something else.

Meanwhile, Genma and Kotetsu were leaning against a post from a common gathering spot in Konoha.

Genma sends a side-glance to his friend, then returns with a sly smirk at how you two look together, laughing and walking on the streets like you’ve known each other for years.

“Well, well, well. Such a sight to behold.”

Kotesu accompanies him:

“A short trip sometimes needs a break. Right, Kakashi-san?”

Kakashi felt a bit annoyed when he got pulled out of the bubble he was in with you. Even though you didn’t mind, the smile was still intact on your face.

His usual demeanor brought back his rigidity.

“Hello, Genma and Kotetsu-san.”

After considering their suggestion to grab a drink before heading off — seeing how Genma nods toward the place — Kakashi speaks again:

“Maybe next time. Still, thank you for your offer.”

༄

A year and a half after the war, things in Konoha were slowly starting to return to normal.

Missions weren’t as frequent anymore, reports from other villages and management issues no longer gave Kakashi constant dark circles, and people seemed happier.

Or maybe it was just the two of you who felt that way more than others.

The truth is, for more than half a year since you arrived here, you managed to learn the language pretty well. Slowly, Kakashi realized that you’re a person impossible to avoid. You even managed to make contact with your family, but you firmly told them to come here after you.

He still doesn’t understand your reason for that, because you haven’t told him. He can only be glad that you’re staying here, but why?

Kakashi is a selfless man, not by choice. Life taught him to fight and help every time he could, but in the process, he sabotaged himself and never let anyone help him too much. Not that he necessarily thinks he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s no longer an optimistic person — not since he was very young — and he doesn’t expect miracles.

And this is where he’s wrong. But “luck” is on his side, because you’ve liked him since you arrived here. You can’t say it was just his appearance, you couldn’t even fully see him, since he was hidden — just like his soul.

It was because his energy warms yours, his kindness, his awareness of his surroundings, his choice of words, and the chemistry between you? It hasn’t gone unnoticed by others.

You’re not someone who hides behind things, your boldness starting to strike when Kakashi least expected.

If before you were afraid of being inappropriate, that concept doesn’t exist anymore. Especially once you realized it wasn’t just in your head.

While you were packing your gear into your training backpack, sitting on a tree stump, a few strands that slipped from your hair — though it was braided into two — clung to your face and made it hard to see.

Tsunade was just waiting for you to finish, her gaze had already drifted to the usual spot where Kakashi waited for you, immersed in his book, which he had kind of been ignoring these past few months.

“How long is this little theatre you two are putting on going to last?”

You looked at her, squinting from the sunlight behind her, not understanding the expression.

“Theatre?”

“The play you’re putting on, with Hokage – student.”

You dodge the question, as expected.

“I think we are even friends now.”

Tsunade called your name and as you stood up, you maintained eye contact while she spoke.

“You know Kakashi likes you, right? You are a smart woman.” Sensing your dismissive retort coming, she didn’t let you speak. “Kakashi is different. He faced some terrible things and will never say it out loud or directly in order to not burden another person.”

You blinked at her, your soul starting to throb violently as she confirmed what your perceptions of him already were.

As a final note, she added, “Do what you want with this, it’s completely your choice. As a suggestion, what we all see here is that you two are alike and have a connection rare to find.”

You gulped, glancing distantly at Kakashi while he had already stopped reading, trying to figure out what’s taking so long.

Tsunade’s seriousness surprised you at the time. But it didn’t last long. When you admitted you liked him, she teased you almost every time.

Sometimes you think she created a monster. You. Because now, you act directly around Kakashi.

For example, you linger too much in his presence, you ask too many shady questions just to get to ask his opinion, you fix his hair if a leaf has landed on him. You insist on helping him with Hokage tasks even though he almost always refuses.

Which slowly kills Kakashi.

What shocked him the most was when you made him vulnerable in front of everyone during a meeting, exposing his sacrifice behavior and… his care.

While Kakashi was presenting the risky mission he said he had to personally undertake — even though arms supply management wasn’t his responsibility, even though many suspicions confirmed that intruders started stealing them and it led to distrust between villages.

Kakashi started speaking in that firm tone no one wanted to challenge — except, of course, Tsunade. But now, you too.

“I will go to assure the safety of the shinobi in that area. We need to find the persons responsible for this.”

And you didn’t think twice before daring to speak.

“As I read about Hokage responsibilities in the rules of council’s book (your pronunciation isn’t the best yet), this doesn’t seem like one.”

Kakashi’s attention shifted from Guy Sensei, who was definitely offering to come with him, to being fixed on you, slightly surprised.

“Not everything is written down. As a Hokage, you need to show people you care about their safety — and not from behind a desk.”

“Is it? Or is this your personal desire to carry everything on your own shoulders, like you’re used to?”

Everyone went quiet for a second. Until Tsunade, mockingly, gestured with her hand and said:

“A mission like this is insignificant compared to what Kakashi has been through.”

So you added, firmly, “If it’s so insignificant, I don’t think Hokage-sama himself would have a problem if I accompanied him. For his safety, of course, which is the priority.”

Asuma made a “tsk” sound with his toothpick in his mouth. As if to say indirectly, “She got you there, mate.”

Kakashi still kept his gaze on you — your angry expression interested him so much he dismissed the others in order to speak with you.

You sat back down, still a little upset.

Kakashi took off his Hokage robes, remaining in your favorite black clothes of his, putting his hands in his pockets and starting by saying your name to get your attention.

“Dare to say what happened?”

Your tone was slightly ironic, but there was more to it.

“Was I wrong?”

A pause.

“No.”

“So you don’t disagree with me coming as a guardian? Since my safety as a villager is more important than the Hokage himself?”

Kakashi was a bit surprised, though oddly, it seemed that when you’re angry, you speak better.

“You think I’m irresponsible.”

“No. I think your life is just as important as ours, not just because you’re Hokage. You’re important. And to me, as well.”

Kakashi felt like there was no air in his lungs when he tried to breathe again.

So you added, while walking out the door with determination:

“So from now on, you’re not doing things alone anymore, Kakashi. Not when I’m here. Unless you want to exile me from the village.”

You slammed the door a little, and that day and night, Kakashi spent hours processing the care behind your words. As if a small door in his well-protected soul had opened, and you’d stepped right through it.

For the first time since he was born, his instinct was to make a “selfish” decision and accept you in his life. But he still doesn’t know how.

༄

Since then, you made Kakashi realize he wasn’t alone anymore. Not just the kind of alone where you’re not surrounded by people—but the kind that settles deep in your soul.

You’d started spending time together outside of training, outside of missions. You carved yourself a quiet little space in his office. Rumors, of course, began to spread about how much time you two spent together, but everyone could see it—this was the best thing that could’ve happened to Kakashi.

Now, the two of you were buried in your books. You were still reading historical texts about Konoha—its language, its traditions—while Kakashi sighed behind his desk, flipping through today’s mission reports.

You peeked up from your book with a small smile.

“Need help?”

But Kakashi waved a dismissive hand without even looking up, too stressed to bother responding. You walked closer, placing your hand on his desk and leaning in.

You tilted your head slightly, watching the tension in his furrowed brows. Kakashi paused just long enough to glance at you out of the corner of his eye before going back to his work, clearly trying not to focus on how close you were.

“You can’t help, don’t worry. Just some mundane, meticulous Hokage stuff,” he mumbled mostly to himself. “I don’t know how Tsunade ever dealt with all of this.”

You chuckled quietly and replied with a grin, “I’m pretty sure Shizune was the one forced to do most of it.”

He huffed. “Most likely.”

Kakashi looked at you again, and his eyes betrayed him for just a moment—scanning you, lingering just a second too long.

You felt your cheeks flush, subtly tucking some hair behind your ear as you shifted and hopped up to sit on the edge of his desk, facing him.

Kakashi leaned back slightly in his chair and gave you a teasing look.

“Highly inappropriate for a shinobi, dear.”

You smirked. “Lucky for you, I’m basically your qualified assistant at this point, considering how much time I spend in here.”

Even if you let the bold words slip out, your hands were a little sweaty as you nervously fiddled with the edge of your short skirt, which barely covered the tight training shorts beneath.

He noticed. Of course he did.

“As your qualified assistant, is your job to motivate the Hokage… or distract him?”

You leaned in just a little closer, smile widening as you feigned innocence.

“Oh, I assure you, my intentions are entirely pure. I’m only here to encourage the village leader. Don’t tell me I’m distracting you?”

Kakashi shook his head, half in disbelief, half amused. He cleared his throat before replying.

“What am I going to do with you?”

Your eyes locked with his, full of unspoken meaning. Something deeper passed between you—something warm, quiet, and magnetic.

༄

The next week bring more promises ahead.

It was a normal spring day, the kind where everything felt a little more hopeful when you looked around and saw cherry blossoms swirling over Konoha. You’d all decided to go out for drinks and catch up.

You sat between Tsunade and Shizune. Asuma and Kushina were chatting nearby, not separated from the group but in their own little corner. Guy-sensei—whom you adored for how much he inspired you to work harder—was arguing with Kakashi over something ridiculous, as usual, while Iruka laughed along. Kotetsu, Genma, and Anko were too busy racing to see who could down a shot the fastest.

“Kakashi, my man, why can’t you accept defeat for once?” Guy’s eyes were red from laughing, his wide grin only making Kakashi roll his eyes as Guy shook him by the shoulders.

“Guy, please. For the millionth time—you were the one who lost—”

You cut in, feigning a shocked gasp. “That’s a lie! I saw Guy-sensei land the final strike!”

Kakashi raised an eyebrow at your blatant betrayal, while Tsunade tossed back another shot with a smirk and Shizune giggled sweetly.

Guy’s eyes sparkled dramatically.

“See, Kakashi?! She recognizes true effort and extraordinary talent!”

Kakashi shot you a teasing look before turning back to Guy, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“Okay, okay. You win. My ego is so crushed—I think I need to step outside and recover.”

He got up with exaggerated exasperation, shooting you a short, private glance over his shoulder before heading out.

You couldn’t help but grin wider as Tsunade nudged you lightly, pretending to cough.

“Right… W-Well… Excuse me for a second, I need to use the bathroom.”

Guy gave you a thumbs-up, totally buying your excuse. The others were too distracted to notice—except the girls. Even though Kushina was clinging to Asuma, she didn’t miss it. She exchanged a knowing glance with Tsunade and Shizune.

You didn’t bother taking the long way to make your lie believable. You walked straight outside and found Kakashi leaning against the bar wall, clearly waiting.

You brushed off a speck of nonexistent dust from your dress. The colors you wore mirrored the season—a pale pink and white kimono tied lazily with a floral sash that framed your figure and bared the skin above your chest, where the curve of your breasts pressed against the short, fitted dress beneath. The gold chain around your neck held a sun-shaped pendant—the one they gave you on your one-year anniversary as a shinobi of the village.

You’d never forget Kakashi’s gentle hands pushing your hair aside to clasp it for you. It might’ve looked like a casual moment to anyone watching, but both of you had felt your hearts about to burst out of your chests.

You stepped beside him, leaning against the wall with your shoulder.

“Sobering up a little?” you asked with a soft smile.

“Not much of a drinker,” Kakashi replied. “Sorry to disappoint.”

His eyes drifted across your face… and then, slowly, down your body. He didn’t bother hiding it. Maybe the alcohol had lowered his guard a little.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

You bit your lip, shy, glancing down before lifting your gaze with an honest smile.

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He shook his head and looked forward again. “You always dodge compliments.”

You chuckled. “And you always deflect them.”

“Guess we’re a match.”

He meant it teasingly at first—but both of you froze for half a second, eyes widening at the implication.

A pause.

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Right. We should go back in. The wind’s getting rougher and you could catch a cold—”

“No.”

He turned to you quickly, swallowing hard, searching your face for an answer.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

He looked confused. “Wait for what? Did something happen?”

You shook your head, closing your eyes as your heart pounded against your ribs. You exhaled shakily, trying to steady yourself.

“No, it’s just—Kakashi.”

You looked at him—really looked. He froze.

“Kakashi, I like you. I’ve liked you since I met you.”

Did you really just say that? Or did he imagine it? That couldn’t have—

But when he saw your face again—your flushed cheeks, your shaky breathing—he felt his heart almost stop.

“Are you sure you know what that means—?”

You cut him off. “Kakashi. Yes, I’m sure.” Your voice was firmer now, tinged with frustration. “I thought I wasn’t the only one feeling this. But maybe I read it wrong. If I did, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—”

You started to turn away—but he caught your arm. In one swift motion, his other hand slipped behind your back, and before you could blink, he’d pulled his mask down and kissed you.

Your eyes widened for a moment before closing, melting into how soft his lips felt against yours.

Kakashi kissed you slowly at first, savoring every second, until your fingers tangled in his hair and you tugged gently. His mouth parted—and at the same time, you both deepened the kiss.

His tongue met yours, the taste of you overwhelming in the best way. All the tension, all the feelings he’d buried—it poured out in that kiss. Especially when you let out a soft gasp between kisses, making him lose control for just a second.

He didn’t want to rush. He didn’t want the moment to be tainted by tipsy bravado, so when he finally pulled away, he kept one hand on your cheek and rested his forehead gently against yours.

You were both breathless, staring into each other. Vulnerability shimmered in your eyes. There was so much there—too much to name. Your ears were ringing, your vision blurred from unshed tears.

“Kakashi…”

“Yes,” he replied with the same intensity, his thumb softly brushing your cheek. “I—I feel the same. In case I haven’t made that clear enough.”

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt. “You made it very clear.”

He nodded, finally stepping back, placing his hand on the small of your back to guide you toward the door.

“Let’s go back in. I can’t use the wind as an excuse anymore.”

You laughed quietly as you let him guide you, eyes still glowing with love—and you never once looked away from him.

༄

There hadn’t been any more hesitations since then. Even though Kakashi had always been careful to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

He avoids openly affectionate gestures in public, but he stands just a little closer to you—his presence a quiet shield.

Kakashi as Hokage makes quiet mornings more peaceful. He hands you a perfectly brewed cup of tea without a word, grounding you with his presence alone.

He insists on walking you almost everywhere, especially after work, brushing it off with a simple, “It’s on my way,” even though it's clearly not.

He notices your favorite flowers and sometimes surprises you with one, leaving it where he knows you'll find it.

He sits with you under the stars after a long day, offering advice only if you need it—just that silent comfort that he’s here, and he always will be.

But something is missing. With not much experience, you struggle to find what exactly it is...

You both walk through the village together, the lantern lights casting a soft orange zigzag glow over the street and the breeze pleasant against the heat of an overly hot summer day.

You’d bought yourself a fan from a stall in the village center, waving it dramatically while already crying a couple of times—but Kakashi was only amused by your frustration. Your pouty expression was too cute to him.

He couldn’t help but glance occasionally at the slight curve of your cleavage, brought out by the heat, a bead of sweat slipping between them.

But you? You’d started feeling insecure, not aware of his thoughts—not that you had any experience. You didn’t know if Kakashi respected you too much, or maybe… maybe you just weren’t compatible?

Was your lack of experience that obvious? Did it not excite him? You didn’t know what to think… especially today, when your thoughts were more tangled than usual. Not that you were trying to get his attention—but you'd woken up earlier just to pick your favorite dress. The first one he ever saw you in, a year ago. Your hair was softly wavy from the braids you did the night before, and a subtle line of soft blue eyeliner hugged your eyelids. And yet, you felt like you’d just finished three hours of intense training with Tsunade, in yesterday’s clothes. Because Kakashi didn’t seem to react at all. But he noticed. Like he always do.

As you stared blankly ahead, slightly tilted down, he gently nudged your shoulder.

“Hello? Is somebody here?”

You looked up suddenly, as if snapped out of your thoughts, then smiled—though it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“A-ah! Haha, She's away for a minute. Lemme check in the back for you.”

Kakashi smiled back, but it's not like you could fool him, the one of the best lie detectors alive. Still, he didn’t push. Not until you reached your favorite spot—by the little fountain, where you sometimes picked wild yellow flowers while he likes to enjoyed the sun barefoot. Little moments when he actually relax. But is besides you.

But when you sat on top of a small mound of stones—placed by Kakashi during your last visits so you’d be more comfortable—he didn’t hesitate to break your usual routine. A strand of hair was gently tucked behind your ear by his fingers as you squinted at him, eyes narrowed from the sun, until he moved to block it with his body.

“Tell me. What’s weighing on your heart, darling?”

You let out a breath, half a scoff, half a laugh—because he always knows. Always, even when you don’t have the words.

“Fear.”

“Of what?” His reply was immediate, his gaze unwavering.

It took a moment to find the right word or the courage to say it.

“That we’re not right for each other.”

Kakashi furrowed his brows slightly, trying to ignore the pang that hit his chest.

“Why would you say that?”

You looked at him for a second before turning your gaze away again.

“I don’t think you feel the same way I feel about you.”

Kakashi blinked a few times. That didn’t make any sense. Did I miss something?

“What do you feel for me that I don’t?”

“Desire.”

You answered quickly—because if you didn’t say it now, the tension in your heart might crush you.

Kakashi didn’t move for a few seconds.

He bent one knee, just to see your face better, which you were trying to hide.

“You’re trying to tell me I’m not attracted to you?”

Your lips pressed together, nervous, and Kakashi didn’t look away this time.

“It feels that way.”

And that’s when he realized. He’d made a mistake. He’d always feared he’d be seen as some frustrated, sex-obsessed jerk. Less of a man if he ever let himself show what he truly wanted.

He lowered his head to breathe, voice muffled slightly by his posture.

“Wrong.”

You didn’t understand, but didn’t have time to be confused.

“What did—”

Kakashi swept you off your feet then, making you laugh from sheer surprise, your hair falling halfway over your face. “Kakashi, what are you doing?” Your arms wrapped around his neck as he took two steps before taking off into the air.

You felt your heart pounding louder than your thoughts, pressing harder into his chest as you flew. To his place? Yours? You didn’t care. Not really. You just anticipated the moment, even if you didn’t understand—Why only now?

Kakashi had one goal now: to calm down, and unravel slowly if possible the desire he’d held in since the first day he saw you. A smirk formed under his mask at the thought that you were finally about to find out what kind of man he really is.

When you arrived at your place, he didn’t even let you down to open the door—he’d already memorized your entrance seal.

Only once inside did he let you down gently, but the distance between you didn’t grow.

“I’m sorry,” he said, as your eyes met his—just for a second, before they fluttered shut when you felt his lips on your neck. Between the burning kisses, his voice grew slower. “I’m sorry I ever made you feel that way.” His hands ran slowly down your back, tracing the seam of your dress before sliding down to your leg and lifting it, drawing you in closer. “But that’s nothing more than a wrong impression.” His last word landed right as his lips met yours.

Your mouth opened immediately to welcome him in, a low hum of pleasure escaping him that made you burn—especially somewhere unfamiliar.

His hand gripped the back of your neck, deepening the kiss, and the sound you let out was so sweet it made him squeeze your thighs even harder.

When he pulled away just to let you breathe, you admitted shyly,

“I’ve never…”

“I know,” Kakashi reassured you softly, and that was part of why he’d avoided getting close like this—he didn’t want to scare you. His breath ghosted along your spine as he leaned to whisper in your ear, “We’ll only do this if you want to.”

If you weren’t sure before, his low, rough voice was enough to make your legs tremble. You could only nod and Kakashi could already feel the effect he had on you.

Fuck.

He looked into your eyes for a second too long—maybe just to calm himself—before moving behind you to undress you gently.

His fingers traced slowly over your hot skin, and goosebumps bloomed in their wake, down to the zipper that he lowered slowly, the dress slipping off your hips.

He returned to face you, kneeling until he was level with your stomach, slipping the dress from your body. You were left only in your underwear, but Kakashi never looked away from your face, making sure you were still with him.

“Can I?”

Your voice came out raspier than expected.

“Y-yes.”

He nodded, his gaze finally settling on the part of you he’d shamefully dreamed of more nights than he could admit.

They say fantasies are better than reality. That’s a lie. He doesn’t think he’s ever been luckier than in this moment.

His hand slid between your legs, gently parting them. His lips kissed everywhere, starting inside and outside your legs. And when he felt how soaked your panties already were from just his touch—your legs nearly gave out at his lips touching the fabric over your pussy.

He rose, trailing kisses all over your body, one hand unclasping your bra. Your hair covered your nipples, barely.

His breath grew heavy as he looked at you, his hand cupping your cheek. “You’re so beautiful.” He lifted your face and kissed you again.

As you feel too shy to be standing fully naked in the middle of the room, you urge him with a whisper.

“You too need-,” Your hands removed his mask completly, then his black shirt, your fingers trailing down his toned muscles before reaching his pants. Kakashi decided that was enough—he took your hands and gently pushed you onto the bed’s edge, kneeling between your legs again.

You led him in. At this point, you didn’t even have coherent thoughts left. He was a sight to behold. So beautiful.

Your trembling legs made Kakashi smirk wider as he pulled your panties down slowly. But you couldn’t look away. And neither could he. He let out a soft gasp when one finger parted your glistening folds and circled your clit slowly.

You moaned with flushed cheeks—and just as your legs started to close, he pinned them down.

“Mhm.” His teasing voice quickened your breath. But once his mouth found your pussy, your head dropped hard onto the bed.

You couldn’t believe you’d missed out on this until now.

For Kakashi, your taste was all he could focus on. He licked and kissed you with such hunger he almost didn’t notice how hard you were trembling—until your louder moans pulled him back. Your eyes met his, and that alone made you come, your first time, on his tongue.

He hadn’t expected it to be so fast. Neither had you. The pleasure overwhelmed you, and Kakashi let you squeeze his face between your thighs as his tongue gently cleaned you off.

He rose over you slowly. Your dazed, fucked-out expression was mesmerizing. You both laughed softly.

“We’re not done, sweetheart.”

You swallowed just before he kissed you again, and the new taste on your tongue made your cheeks burn again—realizing it was yours.

“K-Kakashi.”

His cock twitched at your needy stutter.

“Yes?”

“Can y-you—”

Your hand moved over his cock through his pants. It didn’t feel small. At all. You were a little scared—it felt big.

“Of course.” He took off his pants—but it still wasn’t enough. But Kakashi didn’t want to rush. He had to prepare you. “Shh, let me.” Hearing you whine in his neck, he sped up just a bit, slipping one finger in gently. “Tell me if it’s okay, okay?”

You only nodded, keeping eye contact, mind focused on the foreign sensation as his finger pushed in. It wasn’t as painful as you thought. You gasped at the slight pain, but that was it. The feeling eased and Kakashi was watching you closely as your breathing quickened and your hips started to move.

“Oh my—”

He silenced you with a kiss, swallowing your moans as a second finger entered you. Pushing harder, your thoughts blurred, reduced to pleas.

“P-please, please, please—”

“You’re gonna come again for me? Yes, sweetheart?” Kakashi groaned as your tears stung your cheeks, your nods frantic.

Your body convulsed on the mattress, mouth opening to release a long cry.

Kakashi left kisses all over your face and neck, drawing out your orgasm until his fingers left you.

As you caught your breath, you watched him take off the last of his clothes. Your eyes widened, but Kakashi reassured you before positioning himself.

“I’ll go as slow as you want.”

And he kept his word. You bit your lips so hard they nearly bled as he pushed into you. You felt so full—and he wasn’t even halfway in.

“Sweetheart?”

He looked a little worried at your expression, until you encouraged him.

“Keep going, Kakashi. Please.”

The rumors were true. It hurt. Like hell. But after? No one warned you how it would feel after. Or maybe it only felt this way with him.

Once his movements found a rhythm, hitting that one spot that left you breathless, especially when Kakashi noticed and didn’t stop—

“Kakashi, it feels so good, so good—”

Kakashi agreed. He tried to focus on anything else—your pleasure, your face, the wall behind you—just to keep from coming the second he entered you. He’d never felt anything like this.

“Yes?”

“Y-yes yes!! Please, please kiss me—”

He kissed you immediately, the kiss messy from how he hit inside you, your tongues battling, desperate to consume the other.

That same sensation built again, especially when Kakashi lifted your leg to go deeper. Your moans turned to cries.

And when you came again, so hard, it took everything in him not to pull out. You clenched so tightly, Kakashi didn’t last much longer. But before he could pull out—

“N-no, no! Please—in me, Kakashi!”

And how could he say no to that?

A deep groan escaped him as he filled you completely, so much it spilled down your thighs.

Not that you noticed. You both had only looked at each other the whole time.

He stayed over you for a while, catching his breath and your hand instinctively running through his hair.

Then he cleaned you off gently, moving you onto his chest. His fingers ran through your hair, caressed your cheeks as you smiled nonstop.

“So I was wrong,” you murmured.

He chuckled.

“Definitely.”

Your smile stayed, then your expression grew serious. He tilted his head slightly, waiting.

“I love you, Kakashi. A lot.”

His heart beat harder. He knew. Or hoped. But it had always been hard to accept someone loving him. And just as hard, saying it back. But now, it came naturally.

“I love you too, as much.”

Your insides tingled, hugging him tightly.

And Kakashi didn’t think he’d ever slept better than he did that night—something he’d only admit to you long after. About half a year later, by the time he was already planning to propose. He didn’t want to waste another second, knowing that kind of luck would never come twice in his life.

#kakashi hatake #kakashi sensei #kakashi x y/n #kakashi x you #kakashi x reader #kakashi smut #hatake kakashi #kakashi fluff #naruto fanfiction #naruto smut #naruto fluff #naruto shippuden #naruto x you #naruto x reader

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fulcrums501st · 4 months ago

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“The people of the underground deserve to breathe” is weird to me

because idk why a counselor would have done this.

The council only rlly acknowledges the undercity once they have actively been an inconvenience to them. Their awful treatment of zaun comes just as much from direct police brutality and oppression as it does them simply ignoring Zaun’s existence and never taking zaun into consideration when making policy descisions. They oppress zaun and then turn around and act as if it isn’t a part of their city. They don’t know what goes on down in zaun cuz they don’t even bother to check.

And given that Caitlyn in s1 is shocked that people are “starving” and “addicted” to such a degree in zaun, as if the awful conditions are something that has never crossed her or the councils mind, makes me doubt that Cassandra Kirraman (a counselor, also Cait’s mom) would have been made aware of the air pollution in zaun and ordered the ventilation system to be made out of her own kindness.

In the Kirraman archives, Cassandra states that, “The rise of industry in the fissures has led to the air becoming increasingly toxic” - but the air was already toxic before zaun began to industrialize in the timeskip “remember the mines they had us in, air so thick it clogged your throat” and this is the gas that contributes to Viktor’s terminal illness later in life, Viktor is in Piltover working on hextech while zaun is industrializing. So no, the Gray isn’t a new development. Why would they phrase it like it was?

But you know what IS a new development in Zaun during this time? Silco, the industrialist.

When Silco’s name is first brought to the council in s1, they are somewhat familiar with it. A counselor says, “Silco? The industrialist?” this implies that the council is aware of Silco, but that he has kept up this image of him being an industrialist, a businessman of Zaun. Not a criminal kingpin. The fact that the council even recognizes a zaunite name and notes their industrial position implies that the council and Silco’s paperwork might have crossed each other’s desks. or that the Industrialist of Zaun made some sort of impression on them from afar, at least to the the point sparking muddled recognition at the sound of their name.

The council doesn’t even know about Vander’s leadership position in the undercity in act 1 (Grayson never brings up her working relationship with Vander when she speaks to the council about making peace, cuz it is not a deal that’s on the books) but they are aware of Silco’s name. So he must have actually been on the council’s radar as a prominent economic force in zaun, with enough influence to be a recognizable name for a zaunite, enough influence to maybe (without the council realizing) manipulate some of their policy descisions from time to time.

“The people of the underground deserve to breathe” since when do counselors care about what people of the undercity deserved? since when are they aware of the problems that go on down there? (again the council ignored and neglects Zaun consistently and Cait is shocked by all the hardships down there). Plus, that gas is Piltover’s doing. They aren’t gracious or generous for undoing their own pollution and giving zaun the bare minimum of clean air. This is some self-righteous activism.

In the archives, Cassandra notes that zaunites call the gas “The Gray” how does she know about it zaunite slang? Kirraman employees aren’t strolling around zaun, and I doubt their input would be enough to make a counselor think Zaun was worth their time.

Given the council and Kirraman ignorance, I think the only way Cassandra would have even been aware of industry leading to increased pollution, is if an zaunite industrialist brought this to the council’s attention.

I think some way or another, using his facade of a legitimate enterprise on paperwork, Silco placed the idea in the heads of the council, specifically counselor Kirraman, that the Gray was an issue. Maybe this new Industrialist of Zaun sent in some sort of permit for industrialization or some report of the progress of industry in Zaun. The counselors probably wouldn’t have rlly paid much attention to it, but the careful wording alerts them to the issue of a deadly gas in zaun. Silco blamed the gas on the rising industrialization that happens during the s1 time-skip (when it reality it is Piltover’s own pollution) which is why Cassandra says the “rising industry” in Zaun created the Gray, but we know from Silco’s monologue to the chembarons that it had been there long before.

And the council gets the idea to help the undercity out with its industrialization by granting them the “privilege to breathe”, under the ruse that the gas was the undercity’s own doing from zaun’s progress, not from Piltover’s. Somehow Silco was able to indirectly bring this to the council’s attention so that they could act as if they were “saving” Zaunites from the gas and “saving” they from themselves. Cuz Piltover only does shit for Zaun if it benefits them, in this case it gives them the opportunity to play activist and feel good about themselves and feel like they’re so generous.

Cuz in s1, who does Silco credit the better air quality to? Himself. Not a topsider.

“I gave you life, a taste of fresh air”

And the chembarons don’t deny it. Silco doesn’t lie about the effectiveness of his work.

#arcane critical #arcane #silco #arcane silco #anti caitlyn kiramman #paracritical #paranalysis #paradox talks

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ginnsbaker · 4 months ago

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All Of Your Pieces (11 - Nightmares)

Chapter Summary: “Trust me, I didn’t go easy on her,” Clint replied gruffly. “Her brother came to her rescue. I blinked, and they were both gone.” You frowned, not entirely sure if you could take Clint's word for it. You chastised yourself for not being more vigilant during the encounter. Next time you faced off against Wanda Maximoff, you promised yourself, it would end differently—she would be subdued at the very least. Her powers were admittedly terrifying, and you couldn't help but wonder how your seniors intended to handle her capture.

Or if perhaps she posed such a threat that she would be better off dead.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3.4k | Chapter Tags: None

A/N: Welcome to Part 2, To Build A Home, or basically the history of Y/N and Wanda before Westview, starting at the end of Ultron. Most of Part 2 will be told from Y/N's perspective. Part 3 will be Wanda's. Without further ado... // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The place smelled like rust and copper—of blood. The warehouse was enormous and maze-like in its structure, and somewhere in the distance, metal groaned like a wounded animal. You had just put two of Ulysses Klaue's men down—clean shots and no hesitation. Their bodies lay cooling on the concrete as you readied yourself to confront anyone else who stood in your way.

You tapped your earpiece. “Nat, Clint, what's your position?”

Static replied, a white noise that filled your head like ocean waves crashing inside a seashell.

You tapped the communicator, harder this time.

“Do you copy?” More static.

And, weirdly enough, more silence. Just a minute ago, the area was crawling with hostiles. Now, you could hear your own muted steps. You were always light on your feet, just as you were trained to be.

You glanced over your shoulder. The two men you took out were gone. The floor where they fell was clean, no blood, no bodies. You blinked hard, but the scene didn't change.

“What the—” you muttered to yourself before you took a step and the ground beneath you suddenly felt like it was made of quicksand.

Before you could react, the floor gave way entirely. You plunged downward, swallowed by the very ground you stood on. The sensation was disorienting—a free fall through darkness that seemed to stretch on forever. Your stomach lurched as you tried to grasp at anything, but your fingers closed around empty air.

Then, as suddenly as the fall began, it ended. You landed softly, as if the air itself cushioned your descent. You found yourself standing in a bright corridor with white walls and sterile white lights—nothing that indicated a warehouse. The air smelled of antiseptic and faintly of lavender.

A distant cry erupted down the haul—a child's wail. The sound of it dug into your bones and you followed its source because you had to, because it was pulling you like a magnet draws steel.

You walked down the corridor, vaguely unaware that you had none of your weapons with you, the armor you donned replaced by a white hospital gown. Doors lined the walls, each identical, each a possible gateway to something you weren't sure you wanted to face. The cry came again, more urgent this time. It was coming from the last door on the left.

Taking a deep breath, you turned the cold knob and pushed the door open.

Inside was a small hospital room bathed in harsh fluorescent light. On the bed lay a woman and recognized her immediately. Your mother, but younger, frail and exhausted. Her eyes were closed, and her hands rested gently on her swollen belly.

A nurse glided quietly around, checking the beeping instruments, scribbling on a clipboard. She glanced up and looked directly at you, but it was as if she didn't see you at all.

Your mother stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “Is he okay?” she asked weakly.

The nurse smiled reassuringly. “You're doing fine. Just rest.”

Your heart thudded, the hairs on your arms rising without your consent. This was the day—you realized—the day everything changed. The day you were born, and your twin brother wasn’t.

A doctor entered the room, his expression serious. He whispered something to the nurse, and they both looked solemn. Your mother noticed. “What's wrong?” she demanded.

The doctor sighed. “I'm sorry, but one of them didn’t make it.”

Your mother’s face twisted in anguish. “No... no, that can't be.”

She looked down at her belly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Which one?”

“The boy,” the doctor replied softly.

A raw, wrenching sob broke from her. “It should have been her,” she cried bitterly. “I wanted a son. Not... this.”

Something inside you shattered into a million pieces. You wanted to reach out to her, to tell her you were sorry, to convince her it wasn’t your fault. But you couldn't move, rooted to the spot by an invisible force.

The room started to blur, its edges bleeding out like ink on damp paper. You blinked, and suddenly you found yourself in a darker corridor, its walls creeping closer with each heavy step you took.

You heard footsteps behind you—a slow, deliberate pace that sent a chill down your spine. You quickened your stride, but the footsteps matched your speed. You broke into a run, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Rounding a corner, you slammed into a figure. Stumbling backward, you looked up to see your twin—the shadowy figure that resembled you but wasn't you. Its eyes were hollow as if they had never fully formed.

“Why did you take everything?” It spoke.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you whispered.

It leaned closer to you.

“Yes, you did.”

Voices overlapped, a cacophony of accusations and doubts and things you believed in and kept running away from.

“You're just a thief.”

“A murderer before you were even born.”

“Who's the real villain here?”

You clapped your hands over your ears and screamed at the top of your lungs but no sound came out.

The ground shook, cracks racing across the floor, chunks tumbling into the dark below. You struggled to stay upright.

“It should’ve been her.”

“Sickly girl.”

“What a waste.”

“Y/N!”

A jolt ran through you as someone shook your shoulder. Instinct took over. Your hand flew to your sidearm, drawing it in one fluid motion as you spun around.

The shot rang out.

“Whoa! It’s me!” Clint exclaimed, ducking just in time as your pistol aimed where his head had been a split second before, the bullet embedding itself in a stack of crates behind him.

Horror washed over you as you realized what you’d almost done. “Clint... I...”

He retrieved your pistol from the floor, hesitated, then handed it back to you butt-first. “It’s okay, kid. You weren’t the only one.”

—

“You didn’t even read the briefing, did you?” Clint smirked, handing you a bottle of water. You took a long gulp, wiping your lips with your thumb when you were done. No matter how much you drank, you still felt parched. Glancing around, you spotted Steve and Tony whispering. Judging from the look on their faces, you could tell that what happened to you also happened to them.

“What is she? Some kind of witch or something?” you groaned, massaging your temple.

“Steve sent us the profiles on the Maximoff twins well before we boarded the Quinjet. It was all in there,” Clint added, sitting down beside you.

You kept quiet, avoiding his eyes. You rarely did your homework before a mission—why would this time be any different?

“That’s exactly why you walked into her trap,” he snapped, taking your silence as an answer. “Knowing your enemy is basic, whether you’ve got a god on your side or not.”

You nodded, taking the ribbing with good grace.

“Maybe if you hadn't gone so easy on her,” you retorted, leaning back against the curved bulkhead of the jet. You briefly closed your eyes, only to snap them open immediately, not wanting to be haunted by the persistent vision. You wondered how long the after effects of the Maximoff witch would last.

Clint chuckled, shaking his head in a way that was unmistakably patronizing. You hated when he got like this. Hated how your random outbursts never affected him.

“Trust me, I didn’t go easy on her,” Clint replied gruffly. “Her brother came to her rescue. I blinked, and they were both gone.”

You frowned, not entirely sure if you could take Clint's word for it. You chastised yourself for not being more vigilant during the encounter. Next time you faced off against Wanda Maximoff, you promised yourself, it would end differently—she would be subdued at the very least. Her powers were admittedly terrifying, and you couldn't help but wonder how your seniors intended to handle her capture.

Or if perhaps she posed such a threat that she would be better off dead.

“What did you see in there?” Clint suddenly asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You shrugged, not wanting to revisit that experience even in your mind. The mere thought of it sickened you. Only someone truly evil would subject another to such a nightmare for tactical advantage. Physical violation was one thing, but to invade the mind? That was a trick only a truly depraved person would consider.

“Nothing,” you replied curtly.

“Talking can help, you know?” he offered gently, but he was already rising from his seat, giving you the room you seemed to need.

“Maybe that works for old-timers,” you tossed back. “Never worked for me.”

—

When Ultron ultimately went down, it felt far from victory. Survivors moved like ghosts, blank-faced and aimless in their direction, clutching what’s left of their former lives. You stood there, surrounded by twisted metal and smoldering ruins—another battle won, another piece of yourself lost.

Your eyes landed on Wanda. She perched on a heap of debris, crimson energy fading from her fingertips like the last wisps of smoke. She stared into nothingness, eyes as clear as shore but with nothing there to find.

You knew that look. The emptiness when half of you is gone. Both of you were twins once. Now, both alone. You never got to know the boy you lived with for nine months because he never made it outside your mother’s womb. But just knowing he was there, that he existed, left a void that would never be suffused. You’d always feel incomplete, forever wondering if you truly deserved to be the one who lived.

You understood her pain, at least in an abstract, cataloged kind of way. But empathy was a luxury you couldn't afford, not with the bitterness festering inside you. Ever since she got into your head and forced your past to rear its ugly head, you haven’t been able to properly sleep for days on end. You fundamentally opposed Steve's choice to collaborate with the Maximoffs, believing they belonged in a containment cell, not on the field. You saw how Wanda fought off Ultron’s droids. She was extremely dangerous—maybe even more so when she felt so strongly.

The quinjet touched down at the Avengers facility, its engines winding down with a low whine. You disembarked with the other quietly, dirt and grime clinging to your skin and suits like mold.

Steve called everyone to the landing pad. He looked over the team—bruised and battered, yet standing. Morale was low, but Steve saw this as an opportunity for growth. You preferred Tony's approach. When things went sideways, he'd hit the bottles and maybe blow off steam by blowing up a few empty depots. His way of coping suited you better than Captain America's endless supply of pep talks.

“Good work out there,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. “Get some rest. We'll debrief in the morning.”

He turned to you as the group began to disperse. “Could you show Wanda to her quarters? They're next to yours.”

You met his eyes and scowled. The nerve of him to ask that. Without a word, you turned on your heel and headed down the corridor toward your room.

“Hey!” Steve's voice followed you. “I'm talking to you!”

“Let it go,” Natasha murmured to him. You caught it, just barely, over the pounding in your ears.

“That's not acceptable,” Steve argued.

“She's been through hell,” Natasha interrupted. “We all have. Give her some space.”

Wanda stood where you'd left her, eyes fixed on the floor, as if she wished it would swallow her whole. She hadn't reacted to the exchange, lost in her own head.

Steve ran a hand over his face, the first signs of weariness lining his forehead. “Fine. Can you take Wanda to her room, then?”

Natasha nodded. “Come on, Wanda,” she said, tilting her head toward the direction they needed to go, the same one you disappeared into a moment ago. “Let's get you settled.”

Wanda allowed herself to be led away. Steve watched them go before his thoughts returned to you and he shook his head; there were battles worth fighting, and this wasn't one of them.

In your room, you slammed the door shut, making a sharp sound that hurt your own ears. It’s exactly as you left it—sterile, impersonal, a place where nothing bad had ever happened because nothing had ever happened at all.

You paced the length of the room, muscles coiled tight, every nerve ending tingling with restless energy even though you were sure earlier that you had given it your all on the battlefield. Steve has sided with a known terrorist, and now he's brought her to the doorstep. This compound might never have felt like home, but still, it was your sanctuary—a place to let your guard down once in a while.

A few minutes later, after you had been sitting on your bed, staring at the blank wall, there was a soft knock at your door.

“Go away,” you muttered.

The door swung open abruptly, and you let yourself collapse onto your back near the foot of the bed with a sigh.

“Steve's worried about you,” Natasha stated, peering down at you as you gazed up at her upturned figure.

“Steve worries about everything.”

“He asked me to check in.”

“Consider me checked.”

She studied you for a moment. “She's not your enemy anymore, you know?”

“Tell that to Banner.”

“People change.”

You shrugged. “Not that much.”

Natasha crossed her arms and then sat beside you. There were a few beats of silence, a moment for both of you to gauge each other before you sat up and looked over at her.

“She gave you nightmares, too, right? Even if you never told me what they were, I doubt they were pretty.”

Natasha's face remained docile, not betraying any sign that she was merely keeping up appearances or that she secretly despised Wanda too. You envied her control over her emotions, how she concealed herself from the world while still managing to be a good friend without restraint.

“Worst I've had in years,” she admitted. “But she was on the other side then. Doing what she thought was right. Fighting for what she believed in.”

You scoffed. “That's supposed to make it okay?”

“No,” she said softly. “But maybe understandable.”

You didn’t have a comeback for that. You knew Natasha had a point. You’d do everything you could to neutralize an opponent, and the twins simply did the same thing.

“We can't fault her forever for surviving,” she continued. “For doing what she had to do.”

You didn't say anything. Admitting she was right—like she always seemed to be—felt too much like giving in. You've never won an argument with Natasha, and it was both infuriating and impressive. Each time you tried to best her, it ended the same way: with you respecting her even more for her relentless logic.

She glanced at you. “You don't have to forgive her. No one's asking you to. But dwelling on things that are over? That's a prison of your own making.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snapped. You knew you sounded juvenile, but you couldn't hold back. "Not all of us can just flip a switch and turn it off.”

She gave a small, mirthless laugh. “There's no switch. Just choices. Every damn day.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means you can distract yourself if you have to. Find something else to focus on. Just so you don't have to think about it all the time.”

“And if I don't want to forget?”

“Then don't,” she said softly. “But don't let it consume you either.”

She stood up, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her suit. “Get some rest.”

As she made for the door, you couldn’t help but fire off one last parting shot. “You can bet I won’t forgive her. Not anytime soon, anyway.”

Natasha paused but didn't turn around.

“Thanks for the therapy session,” you said, laying down again and rolling onto your side with your back to her.

You expected her to leave after that, but instead, she lingered, sharing an unwarranted piece of information.

“Wanda's in the room next to yours.”

“I know,” you said, getting up to close the door after her.

—

The walls of the quarters were supposed to be fortress thick, but when you dragged yourself out of bed for a midnight raid on the fridge, the sliver of light bleeding from under Wanda's door was impossible to ignore. So, she was awake. You paused, your gaze fixed on the thin glow, suspicion worming its way through your thoughts. Was she plotting something in there, alone with her powers at this ungodly hour? You shook your head slightly, dismissing the creeping paranoia. If Wanda decided to turn on them, well, that was Steve's headache to deal with. With a shrug, you turned away, your mind settling back on the rumble in your stomach as you headed towards the kitchen.

You assembled the basics: bread, peanut butter, jelly. The ritual to your favorite snack was almost therapeutic—the smooth glide of the knife spreading peanut butter thick, jelly thin, just the way you liked it. You grabbed another knife to cut off the crusts, a habit you never quite outgrew.

As you began slicing the edges, a figure materialized through the wall beside you.

“Jesus!” you yelped, the knife slipping and nearly nicking your finger. Your heart leapt into your throat as you stumbled back.

“My apologies,” Vision said.

You took a deep breath, clutching your chest. “Could you not do that? Ever heard of using a door like a normal person?”

He tilted his head, considering your words. “You are correct. I should adhere to conventional modes of entry. I will take note of that next time.”

“Great,” you mumbled, turning back to your sandwich with a huff. Your hands trembled slightly as you resumed cutting. It was still strange to hear J.A.R.V.I.S’ voice coming out of this being’s mouth.

Vision stepped fully into the kitchen. “Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Vision.”

You eyed him warily. “I know who you are.”

“May I inquire about your culinary creation?” Vision asked.

“It's a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

He stepped closer, examining it with keen interest. “The coloration is intriguing. I haven't encountered many purple foods in my lifetime.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You've been alive for, what, three days? Not exactly a lifetime.”

A subtle smile crossed his face. “An accurate assessment.”

You chuckled softly. “Grape jelly. A classic. You should try it sometime.”

“Not sure if I could,” he replied. “But perhaps I will.”

Vision hovered. The silence stretched just long enough to become awkward. You were too spaced out to bother breaking it.

“Speaking of food,” he began, “Miss Maximoff hasn’t eaten. Nothing in over twelve hours.”

You were about to take your first bite, but the mention of Wanda left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“And why is that my problem?”

“Given that her quarters are adjacent to yours, I thought you might be concerned,” Vision said.

“Concerned? About the person who messed with my head? Hard pass.”

Vision regarded you with those unblinking eyes. “Holding onto resentment can be detrimental to one's well-being.”

“Did you read that in a fortune cookie?”

He seemed unfazed. “I simply thought informing you would be appropriate. Miss Maximoff appears... isolated.”

“Not my issue,” you grumbled, but the image of Wanda alone flashed through your mind. Despite yourself, you felt a pang of sympathy.

Vision nodded slowly. “Very well. If you'll excuse me.”

He turned to leave, this time opting for the doorway instead of phasing through the wall. You watched him go, a sour twist in your gut.

“Wait,” you called out before you could stop yourself.

He did, looking back at you expectantly.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Look, just... take her something to eat. Here.” You shoved the sandwich plate toward him.

He glanced down at the offering. “It might be more meaningful if you delivered it yourself.”

“Yeah, that's not happening.”

He accepted the plate. “I will relay the gesture.”

“Don’t,” you rushed out. “I mean, don’t tell her it’s from me.”

Vision appeared to hesitate, but acquiesced with a nod.

“Great,” you said, already regretting the impulse. “Gotta run.” You grabbed your jacket from the back of the chair.

“Are you going out at this hour?” Vision asked.

You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Might as well own the night.”

“Do be careful,” he advised. “The city can be unpredictable after dark.”

You managed a faint smirk. “Unpredictable is where I thrive.”

You were due for a night out anyway.

#wanda maximoff x reader #all of your pieces masterlist #my fic #my writing #wanda maximoff #clint barton #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #tony stark #vision

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