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mocharyc · 2 months ago

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𝙰𝚣𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙷𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚘𝚗𝚜

♡ Invincible variants x reader ♡

☆ WC: 8k+ [Build off] ☆ TW: fluff (kissing with Mohawk!!)

☆ Authors note: Hello!! This is the spin-off from my main series on Invincible Variants x reader. However, this can be read separately as well :) The first two chapters are fluff(kissing), then it’ll get spicy with Mohawk and Omni Mark, and maybe a few other variants to your guy's suggestions⸜(˃ᵕ˂)⸝♡

This is mainly cutesy stuff and slow plot build :3

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The alien sun cast long, golden fingers of light across the valley as Y/N stood surrounded by the variants, each a different version of the same man, yet wholly unique in their own right. The fortress in the distance glimmered like a mirage, its spires and walls catching the last rays of sunlight in a display that seemed almost deliberately welcoming.

"Should we explore our new home before nightfall?" Y/N suggested, her voice carrying easily in the pristine air of this untouched world.

Lensless Mark bounced forward, practically vibrating with excitement. "Race you there!" he challenged, eyes bright with mischief. Before anyone could respond, he was off, a blur of motion streaking across the lush field, leaving a trail of flattened grass in his wake.

"Some things never change," Phantom Mark observed, the voice modulator in his mask unable to entirely mask the fondness in his tone. He turned to Y/N, head tilted slightly. "Shall we?"

"Not so fast," Omni Mark interrupted, his gaze fixed on the semi-conscious Angstrom still sprawled on the ground. "We need to decide what to do with him first."

Sinister sauntered over to Angstrom, crouching beside his prone form. The yellow and black of his suit seemed to absorb the golden sunlight, transforming the bright colors into something molten and dangerous. "I have several creative suggestions," he offered, running a finger along Angstrom's mangled jawline with deceptive gentleness.

"No more death," Y/N reminded him, stepping forward to place a restraining hand on Sinister's shoulder. "Not here. Not in our new beginning."

Sinister looked up at her, conflict evident in his eyes—the killer he had been battling with something softer, something that responded to her touch like a plant turning toward sunlight. After a moment, he rose to his feet with fluid grace, capturing her hand before it could fall away from his shoulder.

"As you wish, dove," he murmured, bringing her fingertips to his lips. The kiss was gentle, contradicting everything his reputation suggested. His eyes never left hers as his lips pressed against her skin, warm and surprisingly soft despite the constant smirk that usually occupied them. Before finally releasing her hand with a reductant sigh.

Viltrumite Mark stepped forward, his white suit pristine against the wild backdrop of their new world. His features had softened since the conflict just hours before, "The fortress may have suitable containment facilities," he suggested, voice deep and measured. "I've seen similar designs across many worlds.

"We should contain him," No-Mask Mark suggested, his unprotected face openly displaying his concern. "His powers are too dangerous to leave unchecked."

"The fortress might have something suitable," Omni Mark agreed, stooping to lift Angstrom with ease. "For now, I'll carry him."

They set off across the field, the tall grass brushing against their legs like a caress. The vegetation wasn't quite like Earth's—each blade seemed to shift between emerald and azure depending on how the light hit it, creating rippling waves of color as they moved through the field. Small creatures, resembling something between butterflies and hummingbirds, darted away from their approach, trailing iridescent particles that evaporated into the air like tiny fireworks.

Mohawk fell into step beside Y/N, close enough that their arms occasionally brushed. Each casual contact sent a subtle current through her skin, awareness blooming in unexpected ways. He seemed different here—less coiled with rage, as if the very air of this new world was already beginning to work subtle changes in him.

"You doing okay?" His mohawk caught the breeze, strands dancing slightly as he turned to study her face with unexpected intensity, the brown of his eyes softened with an emotion that made her breath catch.

Y/N nodded, surprised by the genuine peace beginning to settle over her. "Better than okay," she admitted. "I feel... free. Like I can finally breathe."

Mohawk's fingers found hers, tentatively at first, then more confidently when she didn't pull away. His hand engulfed hers, calloused palm warm against her skin, his touch a grounding presence in this strange new reality. "I never thought I'd feel that again," he confessed quietly, the usual harsh edge in his voice softened to something almost vulnerable. "After I lost her—after I lost control—I thought rage was all I had left."

Y/N squeezed his hand gently, letting her thumb trace small circles against his skin. The simple gesture seemed to affect him deeply; she watched as his throat worked with emotion. "And now?"

A smile touched his lips—not his usual feral grin but something genuine that transformed his entire face, erasing years of hardness in an instant, creating dimples she'd never noticed before. "Now I'm thinking maybe there's more to life than breaking shit," he replied, the crude language somehow endearing in its sincerity.

When they reached the base of the hill leading to the fortress, Lensless Mark was already waiting, sprawled dramatically on the ground with arms and legs spread wide as if making an angel in the strange blue-green grass.

"Took you slow-pokes long enough!" he called, jumping to his feet with boundless energy. His enthusiasm was infectious, bringing reluctant smiles even to the most serious faces among them.

The fortress itself was even more impressive up close—neither fully ancient nor modern, its architecture seeming to blend elements from across time and space into something uniquely harmonious. Massive stone blocks formed the foundation, transitioning seamlessly into graceful spires and arches that defied Earth physics. The entire structure gleamed with an inner light, as if the stone itself was somehow luminescent.

"It's beautiful," Y/N breathed as they approached the imposing entrance. Massive doors of some unknown material—not quite metal, not quite wood—stood closed before them, etched with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and change if watched too closely.

"How do we get in?" No-Mask Mark wondered, approaching the doors cautiously.

Before anyone could suggest a solution, the doors began to open inward, sliding silently despite their obvious weight. Light spilled out from within, warm and welcoming.

"It's responding to us," Phantom Mark observed, his masked face tilted in curiosity. "As if it was expecting us."

"Or built for us," Omni Mark added thoughtfully, adjusting his grip on the still-unconscious Angstrom.

They stepped through the massive doorway into a vast entrance hall. The ceiling soared overhead, supported by columns that resembled tree trunks, complete with intricate branch-like protrusions that intertwined to form natural arches. The floor beneath their feet was polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the soft amber light that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves rather than any visible fixtures.

"This place is fucking amazing," Mohawk breathed, his usual profanity softened by genuine wonder. His wide eyes reflected the amber light, making them appear almost golden as he took in the majesty around them. His grip on Y/N's hand tightened slightly, as if needing to ground himself in the face of such beauty.

Viltrumite Mark ran his palm along one of the columns, his face softening with appreciation. "I've visited a thousand worlds," he murmured, "and never seen craftsmanship like this. Even the Imperial Palace on Viltrum pales in comparison to this architectural harmony."

Lensless Mark was already racing ahead, darting between columns with delight. His laughter echoed through the vast space, untainted by the darkness that had consumed them all for so long. "There are rooms everywhere!" he called back. "Bedrooms, kitchens, libraries—this place has everything!"

"Libraries?" No-Mask perked up, his academic interests immediately piqued.

"Kitchens?" Sinister echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Do we even need to eat here?"

"We should explore systematically," Omni Mark suggested. Despite his logical approach, there was an undercurrent of wonder in his tone, a softness in his eyes that hadn't been there during the war. "First, we need to secure Angstrom, then establish our basic needs."

Y/N stepped further into the hall, drawn by an inexplicable feeling of familiarity. "It's like it knows us," she murmured, running her fingers along one of the columns. The surface was warm beneath her touch, almost responsive, like skin rather than stone. "Like it was designed specifically for us."

"Maybe it was," Phantom Mark suggested, his voice distorted yet thoughtful through his mask. "The multiverse works in ways none of us fully understand."

They found a secure room deep within the fortress—one with walls of the same strange material as the entrance doors and no windows to offer escape. They placed Angstrom inside, still unconscious but breathing steadily, and sealed the door behind them.

"He'll be contained here until we decide what to do with him," Omni Mark stated with quiet authority.

As evening settled over their new world, they gathered in what appeared to be a central living space—a circular room with comfortable seating arranged around a central firepit where blue flames danced without consuming any visible fuel. The twin moons were visible through a domed skylight overhead, casting silvery light that mingled with the blue fire's glow.

Y/N sank onto one of the cushioned seats, suddenly aware of the bone-deep exhaustion that had been held at bay by adrenaline and necessity. The events of the past days—the war, the decisions, the dimensional travel—crashed over her in a wave of delayed reaction.

Omni Mark noticed immediately, settling beside her with quiet concern. His movements were careful, controlled, as if afraid she might shatter if handled too roughly. "You should rest," he murmured, his voice gentle. "It's been... a lot."

She nodded, too tired to argue, yet reluctant to leave this moment—their first peaceful gathering in their new home. "I will. Soon."

Mohawk dropped onto the floor in front of her seat, leaning back against her legs with casual possession that somehow didn't feel presumptuous. The weight of him against her was solid, grounding, his mohawk tickling her knees through the material of her flight suit. He tilted his head back to look up at her, the blue fire casting shadows across the planes of his face, softening his usually harsh features.

One by one, the others settled around the fire—Phantom claiming a high-backed chair that accommodated his rigid posture, No-Mask sprawling on a chaise longue with uncharacteristic relaxation, Lensless perching on the edge of a seat before jumping up again to explore the room's perimeter. Viltrumite Mark chose a seat with a commanding view of the entire room, his posture still regal despite the informal setting. Sinister remained standing for a time, silhouetted against the firelight like a predator assessing new territory, before finally claiming a seat directly across from Y/N, his eyes never leaving her face.

"So," No-Mask broke the comfortable silence, openly displaying his curiosity. "What do we call this place?"

"Home," Mohawk answered immediately, tilting his head back to catch Y/N's gaze, seeking confirmation. The blue fire reflected in his eyes, transforming them into something ethereal. There was a raw vulnerability in the way he spoke the word, as if he'd never truly understood its meaning until now.

Y/N smiled, her hand dropping almost unconsciously to his shoulder. Her fingers traced small patterns there, feeling the tension in his muscles gradually release under her touch. "Home," she agreed softly.

"Azure Horizons," Viltrumite Mark suggested, his deep voice carrying easily across the circle. When the others looked at him questioningly, a faint smile touched his lips, softening the imperial bearing that had become second nature to him. "For the blue-green fields that stretch as far as the eye can see. For new beginnings that hold infinite possibilities."

The conversation flowed from there—tentative at first, then with increasing ease as they began to explore not just their surroundings but each other. For the first time, they weren't enemies or reluctant allies bound by circumstance, but potential friends—even family—by choice.

Lensless broke into periodic fits of laughter as he recounted his race up the hill, mimicking the surprise of the strange creatures he'd disturbed along the way. His animated gestures and expressive face had even Phantom's shoulders shaking with silent amusement.

"And then this thing—" Lensless mimed something with multiple legs and a fan-like tail, "—it just made this noise like 'PFFFFFT' and shot straight up about twenty feet!" He demonstrated by leaping from his seat, nearly hitting his head on a low-hanging light fixture.

"Careful, you idiot," Mohawk growled, though there was no real heat in the words. A reluctant grin tugged at his lips as he watched Lensless hop around the room, still mimicking the startled creature.

Y/N found herself drifting, the gentle cadence of their voices washing over her like a lullaby, the warmth of the fire and the solid presence of Mohawk against her legs lulling her toward sleep. She fought it for a time, not wanting to miss these precious moments of normalcy, but eventually her eyes grew too heavy to keep open.

She wasn't sure when she slipped from consciousness, only that she became vaguely aware of being lifted, strong arms cradling her against a warm chest. The scent of clean sweat and subtle cologne wrapped around her—Omni Mark, she realized without opening her eyes. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear as he carried her through the fortress corridors.

"I can walk," she mumbled, the words slurred with exhaustion.

"I know," he replied, his voice a gentle rumble she could feel through his chest. "But you don't have to."

He carried her into a room she hadn't seen before—spacious and elegant, dominated by a large bed with covers turned down invitingly. The walls here seemed to glow with a softer light than the main halls, creating an atmosphere of peaceful sanctuary.

Omni Mark set her down on the edge of the bed with extraordinary gentleness, crouching before her to remove her boots. Each movement was careful, respectful, his touch clinical yet somehow tender as he eased her feet free.

"You should probably change," he suggested, nodding toward what appeared to be a wardrobe across the room. "There seem to be clothes here. For all of us."

Y/N blinked, trying to process this information through the fog of fatigue. "How is that possible?"

Omni Mark shook his head, a small smile touching his lips. "I don't know. This place... it's like it was waiting for us. Everything we need seems to be here."

He rose to his feet, towering over her for a moment before stepping back to give her space. "Rest now," he said softly. "Tomorrow we can explore properly. Figure out what this place is, what it means."

As he turned to leave, Y/N reached out impulsively, catching his hand. "Stay?" she asked, the single word laden with vulnerability she would never have shown during the chaotic days of the war. "Just... until I fall asleep?"

Omni Mark's expression softened, the permanent crease between his brows easing slightly. Without a word, he settled onto the edge of the bed beside her, still holding her hand in his much larger one. His thumb traced gentle patterns across her knuckles, the simple contact conveying more comfort than words ever could.

Y/N leaned her head against his shoulder, breathing in the scent that had already become familiar, already begun to register as safety in her mind. "Thank you," she murmured.

"For what?" he asked, voice rumbling through her where their bodies connected.

"For suggesting this. For giving us all a chance at something new."

His free hand came up to stroke her hair, fingers threading through the strands with careful tenderness. "We all deserved it," he replied simply. "Especially you."

They sat in comfortable silence, his hand continuing its gentle ministrations until Y/N's breathing deepened and slowed. Just before sleep claimed her completely, she felt him shift, easing her down onto the pillows with extraordinary care. The covers settled over her with whisper-soft weight, and then the ghost of lips pressed against her forehead—so gentle she might have imagined it.

"Sleep well, Y/N," Omni Mark whispered, the words following her down into dreams. "Tomorrow begins our real story."

Morning arrived with golden light filtering through windows Y/N hadn't noticed the night before—tall, arched openings that revealed a view of the valley below their fortress hill. She stretched languidly, surprised by how deeply she had slept, how refreshed she felt after just one night in this strange new world.

The wardrobe Omni Mark had mentioned stood open now, revealing clothing in various styles and colors—all seemingly her size. She selected simple attire—soft pants and a flowing top in a shade that matched the blue-green grass outside—before making her way back toward the central living area.

The fortress was even more beautiful in daylight, sunlight streaming through cleverly placed skylights and windows to illuminate the intricate architecture. As Y/N wandered the corridors, she noticed details missed in the previous evening's exhaustion—living plants integrated into the design, small fountains creating musical water features at unexpected intervals, artwork depicting landscapes both familiar and alien adorning walls of polished stone.

She found Phantom Mark in what appeared to be a training room—a vast space with weapons mounted on walls and a floor padded for combat practice. He moved through a complex kata with fluid grace, his masked face turned toward the ceiling as if in meditation despite the physical exertion.

He paused when he noticed her watching, body freezing mid-motion before relaxing into a more neutral stance. "Good morning," he greeted, voice slightly mechanical through his mask's filter.

"Morning," she replied, stepping into the room. "Did you sleep at all?"

"Some," he admitted, moving toward her with his characteristic grace. Even in this peaceful setting, there was something predatory about his movements—not threatening, but unmistakably powerful. "The mask makes it... complicated."

Y/N studied him, noting the tension in his shoulders despite his relaxed tone. "You know," she said carefully, "in this new world, you could take it off. If you wanted to."

His hand came up reflexively to touch the edge of his mask, fingers tracing the seam where it met his suit. "Perhaps," he acknowledged, voice softer now. "Someday. When I'm ready."

Without thinking, Y/N reached up to place her hand over his where it rested on his mask. "No rush," she assured him. "We have time now. All the time we need."

Even through his mask and his gloves, she felt the slight tremor that ran through him at her touch. His other hand came up to cover hers, sandwiching her fingers between his in a gentle hold.

"Thank you," he said simply, the words carrying weight beyond their simplicity.

They remained like that for a long moment—connected by touch, by understanding, by the unspoken bond forming between all of them in this strange new world. Then, with gentle precision, Phantom Mark raised her hand to the eye-level of his mask, examining her fingers with apparent fascination.

"So small," he murmured, almost to himself. "So fragile compared to us. Yet so strong in all the ways that truly matter."

Before Y/N could respond, he pressed the lower part of his mask to her knuckles—the closest approximation to a kiss the barrier would allow. The gesture was unexpectedly tender, sending a flutter of warmth through her chest. Despite the unyielding material between them, she could feel the warmth of his breath through the mask's ventilation, the careful pressure of his lips beneath the barrier.

"The others are gathering for breakfast," he said, releasing her hand with apparent reluctance. "Shall we join them?"

They found the rest of the group in a spacious kitchen that opened onto a terrace overlooking the valley. The scene that greeted them was so incongruously domestic that Y/N paused in the doorway, momentarily stunned by the sight.

Mohawk stood at a cooking surface, cursing cheerfully as he flipped something that resembled pancakes with more enthusiasm than skill. He'd abandoned his suit for loose pants and a fitted tank top that revealed the powerful muscles of his arms and shoulders, dotted with scars that told stories of countless battles. His mohawk was slightly disheveled from sleep, giving him an oddly endearing appearance.

"Flip, you little bastard!" he growled at a particularly stubborn pancake, brandishing the spatula like a weapon. His brow furrowed in concentration, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth as he focused with the same intensity he once reserved for combat. When he finally managed to turn it, revealing a perfectly golden-brown surface, his face lit up,. "Ha! See that? Perfection!"

No-Mask was arranging what appeared to be local fruits in a bowl, his precision suggesting the academic's approach to even the most mundane tasks. He'd exchanged his suit for simple earth-toned clothing that softened his appearance, making him look more like the college professor he might have been in another life. His expressive face revealed every thought—concentration, satisfaction, occasional frustration when a particularly stubborn piece of fruit wouldn't stay where he wanted it.

Viltrumite Mark sat at the head of the table, posture perfect even in this casual setting, peeling what looked like a star-shaped fruit with precise movements. His white suit had been replaced by more casual attire—a simple tunic and pants in pale colors that still managed to convey authority. The centuries of imperial bearing couldn't be completely erased, but there was a relaxed set to his shoulders that hadn't been there before. His brown hair was loose around his head rather than slicked back in its usual severe style.

"The composition of these fruits is fascinating," Viltrumite observed, examining a slice with interest. "The molecular structure must be quite different from Earth's flora to achieve these color-shifting properties."

Lensless bounced between the various food preparation areas, stealing tastes of everything with delight, earning half-hearted swats from Mohawk and exasperated sighs from No-Mask. He'd traded his suit for loose, colorful t-shirt and shorts that perfectly matched his exuberant personality. His hair stuck up at odd angles, giving him a perpetually surprised look that somehow suited him perfectly. His energy seemed boundless even in this peaceful setting, body in constant motion as if stillness was physically impossible for him.

"That's the third piece you've stolen!" No-Mask protested as Lensless snagged another piece of color-shifting fruit. "If you keep eating them all before breakfast, there won't be any left for the rest of us."

"Can't help it," Lensless mumbled through a full mouth, juice dribbling down his chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, leaving a shimmering streak across his skin that caught the morning light. "They're just so good! Like candy but also kind of minty? But also sort of citrusy?" He gestured wildly with the half-eaten fruit. "It's like a flavor explosion!"

Sinister lounged against a counter, observing the others with amusement while sipping from a steaming mug. Unlike the others, he hadn't fully abandoned his signature colors, wearing a black shirt with subtle yellow accents that emphasized his lean, powerful build. His hair was artfully tousled in a way that suggested careful styling rather than sleep, and his usual predatory grace remained intact even in this domestic setting. His eyes tracked Y/N the moment she entered, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Only Omni Mark was missing, likely still dealing with their prisoner somewhere in the fortress depths.

"Well, look who finally decided to join us," Mohawk called, spotting Y/N in the doorway. His usual gruffness was tempered by obvious pleasure at seeing her, his entire face transforming when their eyes met. The crease between his brows smoothed momentarily, and that rare genuine smile—the one that created unexpected dimples in his stubbled cheeks—bloomed across his face. "Hope you're hungry. I'm making my famous galaxy-famous pancakes."

"Is that what those are supposed to be?" Sinister drawled, eyebrow arched in mock surprise. He set his mug down with deliberate grace, pushing himself off the counter in one fluid motion that reminded Y/N of a jungle cat stretching. His eyes— like dark chocolate in the morning light rather than their usual predatory gleam—never left her face as he moved, cataloging her expressions with the same intensity he once reserved for tracking prey. "I thought you were developing a new form of building material."

"Fuck off," Mohawk retorted without heat, flipping another pancake. A lopsided grin belied his harsh words, the camaraderie between them something entirely new and unexpected. He brandished the spatula like a weapon, flecks of blue batter splattering across the counter. "At least I'm contributing, pretty boy. What are you doing besides taking up space and looking decorative?"

"Quality control," Sinister replied smoothly, sauntering over to Y/N with predatory grace. His movements were deliberately unhurried, each step calculated to draw attention to the fluid power of his body.

"Good morning, dove," he murmured, leaning in to place a lingering kiss at the corner of her mouth. The subtle scent of him enveloped her—something spiced and dangerous that somehow belonged perfectly in this peaceful kitchen. His lips lingered at the corner of her mouth, warm and soft against her skin, leaving a ghost of sensation even after he pulled away.

Behind them, Mohawk's spatula clattered against the cooking surface with unnecessary force. "For fuck's sake, some of us are trying to cook here," he grumbled, though there was more resignation than genuine anger in his tone. His eyes, however, tracked Sinister's every movement with the wariness of a predator recognizing a rival.

"Sleep well?" Sinister asked, seemingly oblivious to the territorial display behind him.

Y/N felt heat rise to her cheeks at the public display, acutely aware of the others watching with varying degrees of interest. "Yes, thank you," she managed, stepping past him into the kitchen proper.

Viltrumite Mark cleared his throat softly, "Perhaps you might allow Y/N some space to breathe before laying claim as you already tried to do so, Sinister," he suggested, his tone courteous yet leaving no room for argument. His fingers, continued their methodical work with the star-shaped fruit, though his eyes—warm brown with flecks of gold remained fixed on Sinister with quiet warning.

Sinister stepped back with exaggerated deference, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Of course," he conceded.

Lensless immediately waltzs over, practically vibrating with excitement. His movements were so quick he nearly collided with the counter, stopping himself with a theatrical windmilling of arms that seemed designed to make Y/N smile, "Y/N! You have to try these!" he exclaimed, offering something that resembled a cross between a strawberry and a starfruit. His eyes were wide with delight, face animated in a way that was impossible to resist. "They taste like cinnamon and sunshine!"

His enthusiasm was so genuine, his joy so uncomplicated, that Y/N couldn't help but smile. She accepted the strange fruit, taking a tentative bite. Flavor burst across her tongue—sweet and spicy and utterly unlike anything from Earth, yet somehow reminiscent of childhood summers and holiday desserts.

"It's amazing," she agreed, delighted by the way his face lit up at her approval.

"I know, right?" he grinned, bouncing on his toes. "I've already had like seventeen of them. No-Mask says I'm going to make myself sick, but I feel great!"

"Nevertheless," No-Mask interjected, approaching with his artfully arranged fruit platter, "perhaps moderation might be advisable until we understand the full effects of the local food on our physiology." Despite his words, his eyes were kind, his tone gentle in a way that suggested he was growing accustomed to Lensless's exuberance.

"Boring," Lensless declared, though he tempered his bouncing slightly in deference to No-Mask's concern. He reached up to ruffle No-Mask's perfectly combed hair, darting away with a laugh before the other variant could react, "You worry too much, professor! We're practically gods here—what's a little alien fruit gonna do?"

No-Mask smoothed his hair with dignity, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward despite his attempt at severity. "The term 'practically' is doing considerable heavy lifting in that sentence," he observed dryly, though his eyes crinkled at the corners with unexpected humor.

"Oh guys! I found a lake about two miles east of here. Crystal clear water, pink sand beaches, these awesome floating lily-pad things big enough to sit on. We should all go swimming later!"

"Let's get through breakfast first," Phantom suggested, the dry humor in his tone evident despite his mask's filter. He had positioned himself slightly apart from the group, still uncomfortable with communal activities despite the growing ease between them all.

"A swimming expedition sounds delightful," Viltrumite Mark commented.

He offered Y/N a slice of the star-shaped fruit he'd been peeling, the gesture courtly despite the informal setting. "The most exquisite of the local fruits, in my assessment," he explained, holding it out with elegant fingers stained slightly purple from the juices. "Its flavor profile changes depending on the ripeness—this one should be at perfect maturity."

They settled around a large table on the terrace, the spread before them a strange mixture of familiar concepts executed with alien ingredients. Mohawk's "pancakes" were more blue than golden, the fruit No-Mask had arranged shifted colors depending on how the light hit them, and the beverages Sinister poured had a subtle luminescence that would have been concerning on Earth but somehow seemed natural here.

As Y/N reached for a serving utensil, Viltrumite Mark smoothly intercepted it, "Allow me," he murmured, serving her. His fingers brushed hers as he handed her the filled plate, the contact brief yet deliberate. His eyes—ancient yet somehow youthful in the morning light—held hers for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "I hope everything is to your satisfaction."

The moment was interrupted by Mohawk's gag. "Jesus Christ, your highness, it's breakfast, not a royal coronation," he muttered, though the annoyance in his voice couldn't quite mask the underlying insecurity—the fear that his rugged intensity might pale in comparison to Viltrumite's cultured elegance.

Viltrumite's lips curved into a smile. "Civility costs nothing, Mohawk," he replied smoothly. "Perhaps you might try it sometime."

Before Mohawk could retort, Sinister's low chuckle diffused the building tension. "Children, children," he admonished with mock severity. "Let's not fight at the table. It upsets Mother." he smiled as he glanced between them holding no genuine humor.

Omni Mark joined them moments later, slipping into an empty chair beside Y/N with quiet grace. He'd changed from his suit into simple clothing—a fitted gray shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders and dark pants that seemed designed for both comfort and mobility. His hair was slightly damp, curling at the temples in a way that softened his usually severe appearance, suggesting he'd found bathing facilities somewhere in the fortress.

Y/N couldn't help but notice the difference in how he looked without his mask from when she saw him days before without it, must've been the usual attire—more human somehow, the perpetual furrow between his brows less pronounced in the gentle morning light. Their eyes met as he settled beside her, and something warm and private passed between them—a connection forged in those quiet moments when he'd carried her to bed, when he'd sat beside her until she fell asleep, and how he's guided her through everything.

"Angstrom is secure and stable," he reported, reaching for what appeared to be a coffee equivalent. His fingers wrapped around the mug, "He'll need more permanent arrangements eventually, but for now, he's contained."

"We could always just throw him off the highest tower," Sinister suggested with casual menace, spearing a piece of color-shifting fruit with unnecessary precision.

"No more death," Y/N reminded him gently. She reached across the table impulsively, her fingers brushing the back of his hand—feeling the subtle tension there, "We agreed Sinister."

Sinister's eyes widened fractionally at her touch, something vulnerable flickering across his face before the familiar predatory smile slid back into place. He turned his hand beneath hers, capturing her fingers with delicate precision. Sinister's eyes met hers across the table, something dangerous and hungry in their depths.

"So we did, dove," he conceded, lifting her hand to his lips without breaking eye contact. The press of his mouth against her skin was reverent despite the danger that clung to him like a second skin before he released her hand and brought the fruit to his lips with deliberate sensuality. "For now."

Beside her, Omni Mark went very still, the only indication of his reaction the subtle tightening of his fingers around his mug. The tension in the air was palpable for a heartbeat before Viltrumite Mark intervened.

"We could build a proper containment facility," Viltrumite Mark suggested, cutting through the tension with practiced diplomatic ease. "I've overseen such constructions before. With our combined strength and the resources this world seems to offer, it would be simple enough."

No-Mask leaned forward, scholarly interest sparking in his eyes. "If I might suggest, the southeastern tower seems to contain materials that might serve our purposes. I noticed what appears to be a form of ultra-dense mineral similar to the containment cells the Coalition used on Earth-219."

"I'll help design it," Phantom offered unexpectedly, his voice carrying clearly across the table. "Security systems were my specialty... before."

The meal progressed with surprising ease—conversation flowing naturally between them as they discussed their new world, the fortress, their plans for exploration. There were moments of tension, of course—old rivalries and resentments didn't disappear overnight—but these were tempered by a growing sense of shared purpose, of collective possibility.

Y/N found herself laughing at Lensless's animated retelling of his morning exploration, something warm blooming in her chest as she watched them all—these broken, dangerous men gradually rediscovering parts of themselves long buried beneath violence and trauma. The sunlight catching in Mohawk's wild hair as he gestured emphatically; the subtle softening around Phantom's masked face as he listened; the scholarly interest lighting No-Mask's eyes as he theorized about the local fauna; the quiet contentment in Omni Mark's profile as he watched her laugh; the calculated stillness of Sinister that couldn't quite hide how his eyes softened when they rested on her; the imperial bearing of Viltrumite Mark gentled by something approaching peace.

"You've got a little..." Omni Mark gestured toward Y/N's cheek, where a drop of the luminescent juice had splashed as he reached out, thumb gently wiping away the droplet. The pad of his thumb was surprisingly soft against her skin, tracing an arc that lingered along her cheekbone with exquisite care. The brief touch lingered longer than necessary, his eyes holding hers with unexpected warmth.

"Thank you," Y/N murmured, suddenly aware of the depth of emotion in his gaze—something beyond desire, beyond possession, a tenderness that made her breath catch. For a moment, the bustling breakfast and surrounding variants seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the connection between them—fragile and new yet somehow profound.

Mohawk cleared his throat pointedly from across the table, dragging a hand through his disheveled mohawk with barely concealed irritation, the black spikes standing even more erratically after his fingers disturbed them. "What is this, a romance novel?" he huffed, though his scowl held more amusement than genuine annoyance. "If you're done getting handsy with Y/N's face, Omni, pass the not-exactly-maple syrup."

Omni Mark's expression shifted seamlessly back to its usual composed neutrality, though something warm still lingered in his soft blue eyes as he passed the requested syrup. "Of course," he replied evenly, though Y/N didn't miss the subtle way his knee pressed against hers beneath the table.

Fragments of conversation drifted around her and through it all, she noticed the subtle ways they positioned themselves around her—Omni's protective presence at her side, Mohawk's intense gaze returning to her face between animated gestures, Sinister's calculated angles that always kept her in his sightline, Viltrumite's courtly attentiveness to her needs before she could express them.

"More juice?" Viltrumite offered, already reaching for the pitcher with practiced grace. When she nodded, his eyes warmed when she thanked him. "It is my pleasure," he murmured, voice pitched low enough that only she could hear. "Your happiness here is of paramount importance to all of us, Y/N."

After breakfast, they scattered to explore their new home—Lensless dragging No-Mask off to investigate the lake he'd discovered, Phantom returning to the training room to continue his morning exercises, Sinister disappearing on some mysterious errand of his own, Viltrumite Mark announcing his intention to map the surrounding territory from one of the higher towers.

"Would you care to join me for the aerial survey?" Viltrumite asked Y/N, his invitation formal yet hopeful. "The view from above is quite spectacular, and I would value your perspective on possible expansion areas." His eyes, held genuine interest rather than mere courtesy.

Before Y/N could respond, Mohawk stepped closer, his proximity a clear statement of intent. "She's helping me with dishes," he declared, the challenge in his voice unmistakable despite his casual tone. "Aren't you, Y/N?"

Viltrumite Mark's eyes flickered between them, "Another time, perhaps," he conceded with perfect grace, though something like disappointment briefly shadowed his features. He bowed slightly—a gesture that should have seemed ridiculous in kitchen attire but somehow retained its dignity. "Until later, Y/N."

Y/n sighed, a frown on her face as he turned back, finding Mohawk already at the sink. "You don't have to do that," Y/N told him, trying not to laugh as he managed to get more water on himself than the dishes. A particularly enthusiastic splash had dampened his mohawk, causing water to trickle down his temple in a way that made him look unexpectedly young and carefree.

"I want to," he insisted, vigorously scrubbing a plate with enough force to potentially crack it. His brow furrowed with concentration as if facing a deadly enemy rather than breakfast dishes. "Never had much of a chance for normal shit like this, you know? Before everything went to hell."

The unexpected vulnerability in his admission caught her off guard. Beyond his gruff exterior and violent tendencies, there was something achingly young about him in this moment—a glimpse of the boy he might have been before loss and rage transformed him.

She moved beside him at the sink, their arms brushing as she took over the rinsing. "Well, you have all the time in the world to practice now."

His hands stilled in the soapy water, his gaze fixing on her profile with unexpected intensity. Something shifted in his expression—the perpetual storm in his brown eyes calming momentarily, revealing depths of feeling he usually kept buried beneath anger and bravado. "Yeah," he agreed softly. "Guess I do."

When he leaned in, Y/N expected another of his impulsive, passionate kisses—the kind that had characterized their interactions during the war. Instead, there was a question in his eyes—a hesitation that seemed foreign to his typically impulsive nature. His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes, silently seeking permission in a way he'd never bothered with before.

Watching her nod softly his lips met hers with surprising gentleness. The kiss was delicate, a stark contrast to the desperate, claiming kisses he'd given her during the war when every moment might have been their last. This kiss held something new: patience, tenderness, the luxury of time. His hands remained in the sink, not reaching for her, giving her the space to pull away if she chose.

But she didn't choose to pull away. Instead, she leaned into the kiss, tasting the sweet-spicy flavor of alien fruit on his lips, feeling the slight scratch of stubble against her skin. She lifted one hand to his cheek, fingers tracing the sharp angle of his jawline, feeling the subtle tremble that ran through him at her touch. For all his bravado and violence, he responded to gentle affection like a starving man offered water—with disbelief and desperate gratitude.

When they parted, his eyes remained closed for a moment, as if savoring the sensation.

"That was nice," he murmured, with vulnerability in his voice she'd never heard before. His forehead rested against hers, breath mingling with her own in the small space between them. This close, she could see flecks of lighter brown in his irises, the softness of his lips still slightly parted. "Different."

"Different good?" she asked, reaching up to trace the strong line of his jaw with soapy fingers, leaving a trail of iridescent bubbles against his skin.

His eyes opened, meeting hers with startling clarity. The raw emotion there took her breath away—hope and fear and longing all tangled together, unfiltered and exposed in a way he'd never allowed before.

"Different perfect," he corrected, turning his head slightly to press a kiss against her palm. "Like I don't have to rush. Like we might actually have a tomorrow."

"We do have tomorrow," she whispered, brushing another gentle kiss against the corner of his mouth. "And all the days after that."

Something suspiciously like moisture gathered in his eyes before he blinked it away, replacing vulnerability with a crooked smile that couldn't quite hide the depth of his feeling. "Fuck, Y/N," he murmured, voice rougher than usual. "You're gonna make me go soft here."

She laughed softly, pressing her forehead against his again. "I won't tell anyone."

"Damn right you won't," he growled playfully, the familiar bravado settling back over him like armor—though thinner now, more transparent than before.

A throat cleared behind them, breaking the moment. They turned to find Omni Mark standing in the kitchen doorway, his expression carefully neutral despite the subtle tension in his jaw and the way his fingers flexed once before settling at his sides.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, gaze sliding away from their proximity with deliberate courtesy. Y/N didn't miss the flash of emotion in his eyes—not anger but something more complex, a mixture of resignation and longing carefully contained behind his usual composure. "I thought you might like to see the library we discovered on the east wing. There are texts there—some in languages I've never encountered before, but others perfectly readable. They might tell us more about this place, its history."

Y/N stepped back from Mohawk, feeling a slight flush rise to her cheeks though she wasn't sure why. There were no established boundaries here, no expectations except those they created themselves. "That sounds fascinating," she agreed, drying her hands on a nearby cloth.

Mohawk seemed about to protest, then visibly checked himself. His fists clenched briefly at his sides before relaxing, jaw working as he swallowed whatever instinctive challenge had risen to his lips. The self-restraint was so unlike his usual impulsive nature that Y/N found herself studying him with newfound appreciation.

"Go ahead," he said, gesturing magnanimously with soap-covered hands. "I'll finish up here." His gaze shifted to Omni Mark, something unspoken passing between them—not quite challenge, not quite acceptance, but perhaps the beginning of understanding.

"Just because I'm trying this whole 'sharing' concept doesn't mean I like it, Omni," he added, the familiar aggression in his tone undermined by the grudging respect in his eyes. "Just don't keep her all day. Some of us want to show her the cool shit we've found too."

Omni Mark's posture relaxed fractionally, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Understandable," he replied, the simple acknowledgment carrying weight between them—recognition of feelings too complex for either to fully articulate.

As they left the kitchen, Y/N glanced back to see Mohawk return to the dishes with determined focus, his profile outlined against the morning light streaming through the windows. There was something achingly vulnerable in the set of his shoulders, the careful way he handled the dishes now—as if practicing gentleness was a skill he desperately wanted to master.

As Y/N followed Omni through the fortress corridors, she was struck by the surreal normality of what had just transpired—domestic chores, a sweet kiss, gentle teasing between potential rivals. After the chaos and violence that had defined their relationship until now, these simple human interactions felt almost miraculous in their ordinariness.

"Are you alright?" Omni asked quietly as they walked, his stride measured to match hers perfectly. His perceptive gaze studied her face with gentle concern. "This is... a lot to adjust to. For all of us, but especially for you."

Y/N considered the question thoughtfully. "I think I am," she admitted. "It's strange, but not in a bad way. Just... unexpected. Seeing all of you like this, without the constant threat of violence—it's like meeting you all for the first time."

Something soft crossed his features, a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. "In some ways, perhaps you are," he murmured. "We're discovering pieces of ourselves long buried—who we might have been without the tragedies that shaped us." His hand brushed hers as they walked, fingers tangling briefly before releasing—a fleeting connection that somehow conveyed more than words could express.

The library, when they reached it, took her breath away. Vast and circular, its walls lined with shelves that stretched from floor to domed ceiling, accessible by a system of graceful spiral staircases and floating platforms that somehow remained stable without visible support. Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows high above, casting rainbow patterns across the polished floor and illuminating countless volumes bound in materials both familiar and alien.

"It's incredible," Y/N breathed, turning slowly to take in the full grandeur of the space. "How many books do you think are here?"

"Thousands," Omni Mark replied, moving to a reading table where several volumes already lay open. His fingers traced reverently over the ancient bindings, scholarly fascination lighting his features in a way that made him look younger, unburdened. "Perhaps tens of thousands. And not just books—there are scrolls, tablets, data crystals that seem designed to interface with machinery we haven't fully explored yet."

Y/N approached the table, drawn by the obvious excitement in his usually composed voice. The open books displayed text and illustrations of breathtaking complexity—star charts of unfamiliar constellations, anatomical diagrams of creatures she'd never seen, mathematical equations that seemed to extend beyond the three dimensions she was familiar with.

"Can you read any of it?" she asked, tracing her finger along a line of elegant script that seemed to shimmer beneath her touch.

"Some," he admitted, moving to stand beside her. Unlike their breakfast proximity, which had been dictated by seating arrangements, this closeness was deliberate—chosen rather than circumstantial. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, smell the clean scent that was uniquely his beneath the alien soap they'd all discovered. "Enough to understand that this fortress wasn't built by random chance. It was designed as a nexus point—a place where different realities could touch without collapsing into each other."

Y/N looked up at him sharply. "You mean like Angstrom's portals?"

"Similar principle, different execution," he explained, turning a page to reveal diagrams that reminded her of quantum field equations. His fingers moved over the complex illustrations with impressive dexterity, tracing patterns within patterns as he spoke. "His method tears reality. This place... it's more like a gentle fold, a place where the membrane between worlds is naturally thinner."

"So us being here—"

"Isn't coincidence," he confirmed, his expression softening with something like wonder, a rare unguarded moment that revealed the man beneath the leader—curious, brilliant, capable of genuine awe despite all he'd seen across realities. "Whether by design or cosmic chance, we were drawn to a place that could accommodate us—multiple versions of the same quantum signature existing simultaneously without causing universal collapse."

The implications were staggering. Y/N sank into a nearby chair, trying to process what this meant for them. "So we're not just lucky survivors," she murmured. "We're... meant to be here?"

Omni Mark's expression grew thoughtful as he settled into the chair beside hers. "I don't know if I'd go that far," he said carefully. "I've never been much for predetermined destiny. But there's a certain... elegance to how events unfolded. A pattern that suggests more than random chance."

He reached across the table, not for her hand but for a book bound in something that resembled leather but shifted colors like oil on water. "Look at this," he said, opening it to a marked page.

The illustration spread across both pages showed a circular structure remarkably similar to their fortress, surrounded by figures that, while stylized, clearly represented humanoid beings with extraordinary abilities. Above the scene, twin moons hung in a sky painted with pigments that still shimmered with lifelike luminescence despite their obvious age.

"It's us," Y/N whispered, fingers hovering over the image without quite touching the fragile page. "Or... people like us. Here, in this place."

"A prophecy? A historical record?" Omni Mark shrugged, the gesture surprisingly human coming from his usually controlled demeanor. The movement caused a lock of dark hair to fall across his forehead, softening his appearance further. Without thinking, Y/N reached up to brush it back, her fingers lingering against his temple. His breath caught audibly at the casual intimacy of the gesture, eyes widening slightly before his expression melted into something soft and vulnerable. "I can't translate enough to be certain. But it suggests we're not the first to find sanctuary here."

Y/N studied the illustration more closely, noting details she'd missed at first glance—the varied appearances of the figures, the peaceful integration with the environment around them, the sense of community evident in their positioning. "They look... happy," she observed. "At peace."

"Yes," Omni agreed softly, his gaze shifting from the book to her face. His hand moved to cover hers where it still rested near his temple, gently drawing it down to rest between them on the table, his thumb tracing small circles against her palm. He'd removed his dark lenses, revealing soft blue eyes that contained a depth of thoughtfulness uniquely his own. Without the barrier between them, his gaze was startlingly direct—intelligent, perceptive, and unexpectedly vulnerable.

"Do you think that's possible?" she asked quietly. "For us? After everything we've—everything you've all done?"

His hand moved across the table, not grabbing hers but settling palm-up between them—an invitation rather than a demand. His eyes never left hers, honest in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. "I think," he said carefully, each word chosen with deliberate precision, "that peace isn't something you find. It's something you build, choice by choice, day by day."

Y/N placed her hand in his, feeling the strength in his fingers as they closed gently around hers. The contrast was striking—hands capable of devastating destruction holding hers with such exquisite care, as if she were made of the most delicate glass; offering connection without overwhelming, support without possession.

"Then we'll build it," she decided, unexpected certainty blooming in her chest. "Together. All of us."

The smile that touched his lips transformed his usually serious face, lines of worry smoothing away to reveal glimpses of the man he might have been in another life—one untouched by the weight of impossible choices and devastating losses. The smile reached his eyes, crinkling the corners and lighting them from within.

"Together," he agreed, thumb tracing a gentle pattern across her knuckles. "One day at a time."

They remained like that for a long moment—connected by touch, by understanding, by the shared wonder of this strange new beginning they'd been granted. Then, with gentle reluctance, Omni released her hand and rose to his feet.

"Mohawk will be looking for you soon," he observed, a hint of dry humor in his tone. "And if I'm not mistaken, Lensless should be returning from the lake about now, bursting to show you his discoveries."

Y/N stood as well, touched by his consideration for the others' feelings despite whatever he might want for himself. "Will you come with me?" she asked impulsively. "To the lake? It might be nice to spend time together—all of us—without crisis driving every interaction."

Something soft and surprised flickered across his features before he nodded. "I'd like that," he admitted. "Though I should warn you—I haven't gone swimming purely for pleasure since... well, for longer than I care to remember."

"Then it's definitely time," she declared, taking his hand once more to tug him gently toward the door. "Consider it your first official lesson in rebuilding peace."

As they made their way through the sunlit corridors of their new home, Y/N felt something unfamiliar settling within her chest. For the first time since finding herself caught in the variants' chaotic orbit, Y/N felt truly hopeful about the future. Not because any single person had promised to protect her or cherish her, but because they were all choosing to build something new together—something that honored what they had lost without being defined by it.

They were broken, all of them. Damaged by loss, by violence, by choices they couldn't unmake.

But here, in this strange new world that seemed designed precisely for them, perhaps they could finally heal—not by forgetting the past, but by building a future worthy of remembering.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Hope you guys liked it <3

One more fluff chap, then I'm writing the smut y'all been asking for��

Who do you guys want first for smut?

Omni mark

Mohawk Mark

PT 2!!

PT.3 (smut with Mohawk)

Main series (✩ ‧ ₊ ˚)

194 notes · View notes

detectivestucks · 4 months ago

Text

The Book Club

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Sukea-Kakashi x F!Reader

Summery: Kakashi accidently meets the girl of his dreams while wearing his Sukea disguise and slowly gets to know you through a mutual love of smutty books. Along the way you run into Kakashi for real and slowly start to pine for him

Warnings: NSFW, oral play, nipple play, unprotected penetration

Word Count: 6.3k

Anon Ask

Panting, you're pushed against the door of your bedroom. Kakashi’s lips stray from your mouth and wander all over your neck. Butterflies ripple from your stomach up your chest and to your column exploding where he touched. He’s sucking and biting till you don’t know if you’ll be able to go in public for a few days. It’s an embarrassing thought but you can’t help leaning into it. You're certain you won’t be able to face Sukea after all your criticism of Kakashi. So how did you get here, pressed into the painted wood as your hand fumbles with the knob between shaky breaths?

It started when Kakashi wanted to go out into town undisturbed. The pressures of being a celebrity aren’t always easy to shoulder. Sometimes Kakashi needs a break from all the recognition and prefers to hang around the village in a disguise. A few years ago when Teams 7 was acting up, he donned a wig and modulated his voice to indulge them in a game of trying to see his face. Today is one of those days where he needs that beak so, he grabs his wig, purple face paint and his camera and takes a stroll around the village as Sukea.

The first thing he wants to do is go to a ramen shop and eat a meal in peace. He never gets to dine out uninterrupted so he's looking forward to this rare experience. As he enters the shop and sits down he sees you to his right. Your nose is tucked in a book while mindlessly stirring your noodles with your chopsticks. Upon further review he realizes you aren’t just reading any book, you’re reading smut.

After placing his order, he clears his throat, hoping to catch your attention. You heard him but hardly look up. Feeling conflicting emotions, Kakashi isn’t sure if he wants to disturb your reading time but he also wants someone he can talk to about his favorite genre. It’d be nice to have a friend who has a passion for his favorite hobby. He doesn't have a friend like that and here you are. He decides to leave you be till his bowl arrives.

“Excuse me” he says as he reaches over you to grab a pair of chopsticks, crowding you and brushing your shoulder with his chest. Irritated, you gaze up but the adorable face that greets you is hard to be upset at. He seems like a very sweet guy, the kind of face that’s trustworthy. How can you be sassy to someone that seems so genuine?

“Hey! uh, oh, sorry” you say as you lean out of his way, noticing he was surprisingly fit for someone who was just a photographer.

“I like your book, by the way.”

“You read romance?”

“I love it. It really helps you learn about how connections are made. Plus I can’t wait till I have my own girlfriend to treat like a princess.”

“Aww” you coo, at the nice man.

“You ever read the Body Count series?”

“Oh my gods, yes! I love a good murder mystery with spicy romance.”

Soon you are closing your book and the two of you enter an hours long conversation about your favorite books. By the end of it, you are exchanging book titles and contact information to meet up next week for an informal little book club.

While walking home Kakashi laments meeting you as Sukea. He wishes he could’ve met you as himself but he didn’t want to freak you out by telling you he met you in a disguise so he decides to just continue the ruse since it was just a friendship and nothing more serious.

A few weeks into your book club and Kakashi is starting to lose touch of where his friendship with you ends and where his crush on you begins. With every passing interaction, he regrets his luck that he met you as Sukea more and more. You’re so adorable when you talk about the titles so avidly and fall backwards dreaming about a man treating you the way the anti heroes in your books treat their love. Sometimes he imagines doing those things to you. He’d love to tattoo you while stroking into your folds, tie you up and make you watch as he touched himself, bind you to an x cross and wait for you to beg him to touch you.

He’d love to see your innocent face pout up at him as your lip quivers from overstimulation. But he can’t bring himself to do that while wearing face paint and a wig, so he settles for staring at you and daydreaming about the things he knows you’d like if fate was just a little different.

Soon, your weekly hangouts become your favorite part of the week. You beg him to meet up more than just saturdays, but between missions and assembling his disguise, he doesn’t have the bandwidth to be around you more. Nor does he want to prolong the psychological torture of growing even closer to you than he already is, knowing you’ll reject him if you ever figured things out.

One Saturday, Sukea comes to your house to debate the relationship between Addy and Zade when you see a copy of Icha Icha fall out of his bag.

“You read the Makeout Series?”

“Yes, it’s my favorite, in fact.”

“When were you going to tell me this?”

“I don’t know, but I think you should read it next.”

“Oh, no thank you!” you say with a sarcastic pitch.

Sukea cocks his head at you. “What’s wrong with Icha Icha?”

“Other than the author is a total perv?”

“Aren’t all smut authors total pervs?”

“Not necessarily, but I hear that guy is the worst. Always going into pleasure houses in every town he visits. Typical shinobi. Never settles down, just travels village to villiage, getting his fill.” You say it with an air of disgust like you actually know Master Jiraiya. The comment has Kakashi feeling defensive.

“What do you mean typical shinobi? I think what shinobi do is quite honorable. Giving up their lives for the sake of their village. That’s not an easy thing to do.”

“Sure it’s not easy to train and master jutsu the way they do but that doesn’t make them good people. They use their title as an excuse to use people. Take that war hero Kakashi for example. He flexes his strength to get girl’s attention. Then he uses them and casts them aside.”

“He what?” Kakashi can’t believe what he’s hearing. Since when does he use women? Sure he’s had a one night stand or two but mostly he’s led a solitary life. He tries not to interact with people too much out of fear he’ll hurt them. In fact it’s taken him a long time to get to this point where he’ll start a friendship with a random stranger. …an adorable one who happens to think he’s something he’s not…

“I don’t think what they say about him is true. That doesn’t sound like the Kakashi I know.”

“Oh, so you know him?”

“Well, we have a casual relationship. I’ve done photos for his team. He seems pretty stand up to me.”

“Well I’ve run into over a dozen girls who all claimed he gave them the night of their lives and then dumped them for no good reason. Something about he needs to focus for the sake of the village. What b.s.”

This was news to Kakashi. Were random women actually claiming to have slept with him? Why on earth would they do something like that?

“Um, are you sure those rumors are true? Kakashi doesn’t seem like the type to do that.”

“Why would a bunch of women lie?”

“I was thinking the same thing but, I know he’s not that kind of guy”

“What is your deal with him? He’s just a random shinobi.”

“Well he’s the one who got me into Icha Icha and I don’t like when people bad mouth my friends. If you ever meet him in person, just try to be nice.”

“Do you really think I’d be mean to him?”

“Normally I’d say no but I’ve never seen you so upset towards a person before so I’m gonna say, yes?”

His questioning tone makes you laugh. You’re thrown into a fit of giggles and it’s music to Kakashi’s ears. From across the table you see Sukea smile, “So will you please read the Makeout Series? It’s good!”

“Fine, fine!” you say. “I’ll read it, but if I don’t like it, You owe me lunch.”

“Deal!”

You laugh and grab his arm affectionately, making Kakashi’s heart flutter. Originally he hadn’t planned to ever meet you as himself. He didn’t want you to figure out he was Sukea but after your conversation he felt the need to set the record straight. You’d been hanging out for several months now so he knew your schedule pretty well. He knew what days of the week you packed lunch and which you ate out. He also knew your favorite Tuesday and Thursday restaurants as well as your favorite Sunday brunch spot. All he had to do was make an appearance.

Since tomorrow was Sunday brunch, he figured he’d make that appearance, while the plea to be nice to him was fresh in your brain.

By yourself in the corner of a cute little cafe, you had a pastry and jumbo cup of tea next to you while you curled up with a book. As Kakashi entered he smiled to himself, you’re reading it. Furthermore, you seem to be enjoying it. He knew you’d recognize Master Jiraiya’s genius. As he walked by he stole your pastry and your bookmark without you knowing. Setting the scene for your 'first' interaction.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and look up to a tall ninja with beautiful silver hair swooped to one side. Holy sh*t, it’s Kakashi. You stare up at him, gob smacked. He’s so handsome you feel your hands start to shake. What was he doing here? Why was he getting your attention?

“I’m sorry to interrupt but is this yours?” he holds up your bookmark between his middle and pointer fingers, drawing attention to the length of the digits. Your smutty mind is going wild and you have to put a halt to your train of thought.

“Yes, thank you.” you say reaching to take it out of his hands when he flips it around to land between his pointer and thumb before handing it over. You don’t miss the dexterity there and dryly swallow. A small swell of butterflies lift in his stomach when he sees your mind reeling.

“Could I get you anything? Your plate is empty.”

“No it’s not, I haven’t finished my- oh. I guess I did…” you say in confusion as you look at your plate void of food except for the crumbs left behind. “But still, no thank you.” you chime, not willing to get sucked into the same trap as those other women. You’re not going to be played for a fool.

“No worries. Enjoy your book!”

“Thanks” you say half hearted and confused. You stick your nose back in your novel, drunk on the moving storyline. You hate that this perv might actually know what he’s talking about and is starting to win over your heart. This Jiraiya-guy isn't half bad. Speaking of...when you gaze up, you see that Mr. Famous is sitting nearby reading the exact same book as you. Sukea said that Kakashi was the reason he got into the Makeout Series, which means he knew exactly what you were reading when he handed you his bookmark. Oh no, and he caught you staring at his fingers before he offered you a pastry. Crap, he’s gonna think i’m like all those other girls.

You feel anger and upset when a plate of tea biscuits is delivered to your table. Kakashi felt bad that he swiped the remnants of your plate so he ordered a replacement item even after you rejected his offer. But you’re not here for it. He’s not gonna buy you with cheap treats and think he’ll just discard you like those other women.

“Hey!” you march up to him with the biscuits. “I said I didn’t want anything.”

“Sorry, they brought out two plates so I had them take the extra plate to you since I saw your’s was still empty.”

“I can order my own food you know.”

“If it bothers you I can take them back.”

“Yes, please do. I’m not some ‘mission’ you can accomplish.”

Kakashi gives you a look of bewilderment and turns his head back to his pages.

“I’m sorry to upset you. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just saw you were enjoying my favorite book and wanted to be polite.”

“I-well-don’t send food to girls you don’t know... It’s weird.”

“Sorry, I’ll note that for next time.”

You nod and head back to your seat feeling a little guilty about how harsh you were. He didn’t seem to mean anything by it. But you bet that’s how he got the other girls and you’re not like them.

“You yelled at him?”

“Not yelled at him, per say.��

“But you raised your voice at him.”

“A little” Sukea gives you a pointed expression, “Look, it’s not my best moment but come on, he was totally putting the moves on me. He bought me food and did this sexy thing with his hands.”

“Sexy thing with his hands?”

“Yes, he spun my bookmark around and it made me think of things…”

Sukea laughs, “That’s what does it for you, eh?”

“Stop! Yes, okay, I was a little impressed. He’s sooo attractive. No wonder those other girls never stood a chance.”

“I still doubt there were other girls but whatever you say.” Sukea smiles at you and asks how you like Icha Icha and you embarrassingly admit you loved it…a lot.

The next Sunday you spot him again. He walks in with a new book. This one you and Sukea read recently. So he enjoys spicy books too. I bet he tries all the smut scenes on the girls he sleeps with. You’d be lying if you said that thought didn’t make you a little needy for him. You’ve longed to experience the things you read about in your books, and he’s so handsome. Like, extremely handsome. Sit on his face, handsome. Stop it.

Yet, you can’t blame yourself. Before you sits a man who would give you all the things you desire. How can you not let yourself entertain the thought? Plus if he’s like what they say, convincing him to try that stuff with you wouldn’t be too hard to accomplish, right?

Swallowing your pride you approach him. “Um, hi”

Kakashi looks up at you in mild surprise. “Hello.”

“I don’t know if you remember me,”

“The girl who scolded me when I gave her biscuits.”

You wince, “Yes, that’s me. I uh, I wanted to apologize.”

“Well thank you. It’s appreciated but it’s okay. If I made you feel nervous, you had a right to express it.”

“But I should’ve gone about it better.”

“True, but you’re cute enough that you got away with it.”

Kakashi didn’t mean to blurt that last part out and he sees how your shoulders tense. He blew it. He scared you away by seeming interested in you which he knows you’ll take as him trying to add you to his fictitious laundry list of women.

You pause, nervous that he made a remark about your appearance. Was he trying to get in your pants? Did you care? You were the one who approached him. After a few blinks you laugh and ask if you can take a seat. After he pulls out the chair next to him, like a gentleman, damn him, you take it to start talking to him about all the books you talk about with Sukea.

Kakashi notices the blush creep over your face as you talk plot lines and character pairings. He wonders if you can tell how into you he is, or are you actually warming up to him in spite of what you think? The more eye contact he holds the deeper your flush and soon you stumble over your words, forgetting what you were even talking about.

When you recover, you realize you’re describing your favorite kissing scene and your eyes have fallen to his mask-covered lips.

Noticing the shift in your attention, Kakashi instinctively licked them and swallowed thickly. While you couldn’t see the fresh sheen of his mouth, the bob in his adam’s apple serves as a subtle reminder of his overt masculinity. Your lips part and you lean into him when he stops you with a light touch to the center of your chest, pushing you away as politely as possible.

You look up at him embarrassed and slightly confused.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me.” you say hoarsely as you try to recover.

“Please, don’t get me wrong. I like you but I’d like to take you to dinner first.” That earns him a confused look from you. “What? Can’t a guy want to wine and dine someone before their first kiss?”

You let out a relieved giggle before you blush. “I guess he can. I just didn’t take you for the wine and dine type of guy.”

“Given my taste in books, is it hard to believe I enjoy romance?”

You pause at that. You hadn’t really considered it till now. Maybe Sukea was right. He didn’t seem like someone who is actively trying to pick up girls. Unless that’s his game. You feel so conflicted but at this point it doesn’t matter. There’s this surge of electricity when you talk to him. It’s not like conversing with other guys, he likes the stuff you like. It feels as easy as when you’re with Sukea except with Kakashi, there's this buzz in your stomach that won’t go away. “Okay then,” you say, “I accept. I’ll go on a date with you.”

“I don’t recall actually asking you.” he states plainly

Your face falls and he chuckles, “So let me remedy that. Would you kindly join me for dinner tonight? There is a place my friend recommended and I’d like to try it out with someone special.”

With rose tinted cheeks you accept.

“So? How’d the date go?”

“How’d you know I went on a date this weekend?”

“So you’re not denying it.”

“You didn’t answer the question, Sukea.”

“You were spotted.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “I’m not going to apologize for it.”

“Ready to admit you were wrong about Kakashi?”

“No. For all I know this is part of his deal. He lowers a woman’s guard by taking her on romantic dates just so he can bag her and never see her again.”

“And you fell for it?”

“I-hey! I didn’t fall for anything. I just had a moment of weakness.”

“So you slept with him.”

“I slept by myself, thank you. We didn’t even kiss.”

“Wow, a date without a kiss. What a womanizer.” You scoff at Sukea “or is he just not interested in you?”

“He’s interested.” you hiss, unable to handle Sukea’s teasing. “It was a lovely date. We really bonded. I-” you sigh, hating the words that are about to come out of your mouth, “I really like him but I don’t know if I can get over all those girls he’s slept with in the past and I’m afraid I’ll just be another notch on his bed post.”

Kakashi’s chest deflates. He wishes he could just tell you that those rumors aren’t true. Those girls were dishonest. He’s only ever had two partners and they are nothing compared to you. He knows he can’t just say it, he has to show it but swallowing his pride and waiting patiently for you to see the truth is agonizing.

“Like I said, that behavior doesn’t sound like Kakashi. He’s pretty to himself. He’s not one to gloat about his fame and success and using people doesn’t sound like him.”

“It’s so confusing cause what you’re saying makes sense but why would all those girls lie?”

“Maybe cause he’s famous and they want other women to be jealous, or other men to find her more appealing. I’m not a psychologist or anything but that’s my guess.”

“Maybe…” you ponder and Kakashi prays his words as Sukea could comfort you more. You inform him that Kakashi told you to read a book in preparation for your next date so now he has to read it with you.

“Wait, you’re taking Kakashi’s recommendations over mine.”

“Yes, I want to impress him.”

“Lofty words for someone who thinks so little of him.”

“Let’s just say that I’m open to being proven wrong.”

Sukea laughs and you continue your usual banter about books but now he’s studying what scenes excite you most. He’s digging through your conversations to find out your fantasies and grasping at details that will wow you and help you realize you’re his... the princess he’s longed to spoil.

That Saturday afternoon, a few hours after your book club with Sukea, you had your second date with Kakashi. The conversation sparkled and much of the evening was comparing notes. Your back and forth was so enjoyable that the date went way beyond the afternoon lunch he proposed and turned into a romantic dinner. Seeing Kakashi during a meal felt like a privilege. He was so discrete with removing his mask but he didn’t truly try to hide his face from you, which you adored. Being one of the few people who’ve seen the beauty mark by his lips makes you feel special, till you remember all the other lips he’s kissed. Please let Sukea be right.

After dinner he walked you home and with each step towards your front door, tension built in your chest. You didn’t want the date to end but you didn’t want to prove yourself right either. What if he assumed the invitation inside your home would mean you give him the greenlight to all the things you want and then afterwards he never speaks to you again? The worry and confliction wared within your chest till you reached the front of your home.

When you stopped, Kakashi pulled you close, adoration filling his eyes. You opened your mouth and closed your eyes, ready to kiss him when you felt warm cloth press against your forehead. Your lids opened in surprise.

“Goodnight princess, I look forward to next weekend. Let me know what book we should read next.” is what he said.

You were stunned into silence when he released his hug and turned to walk away. He kissed your forehead and not your lips. Maybe he wasn’t that into you. But then why would he want to meet up again next weekend? You think about last night over and over again today, as you walk through the market. In addition to playing the date on a loop in your head, you contemplate which book you want him to read. Your thoughts wander from one place to the next but never stray far from your main man till you bump shoulders with a beautiful kunoichi.

“Oh hey!”

“Hi!" You greet, bewildered. You blink a few times and then feel your gut sink. It’s one of the girls you heard talking about Kakashi. The love-sick part of your brain is cringing in agony.

“Hey, you’re dating Kakashi right?”

“Huh?”

“I thought I saw you two together a couple times? Was that not a date?”

“It was…” you feel tension all over your body. How many people cared that you were on a date with the copy ninja? It’s not like anyone cared when you and Sukea meet. The way she scrutinized your encounters felt like she was trying to size you up.

“Man, you’re so lucky. I wish I could land a guy like him. How’d you do it?” she blinks at you innocently like she's not trying to steal him away while your mind is still swimming with confusion.

“I thought you said you’d slept with Kakashi.”

She looks at you with complete confusion but you can tell it’s a facade. “Where did you hear that?”

Her voice was all too chipper. “From you. I overheard you at a cafe a few months ago.”

“You must be thinking of someone else. That couldn’t have been me.”

Instead of pushing the matter you play dumb and concede that maybe you were wrong but on the inside your heart is soaring. Sukea's right. The part of you that felt conflicted, desperate to know if you were special or just another conquest, was validated. You are special to him. He wasn’t leading you on and just like that you abandon your conversation with this random girl to go find Kakashi.

You search everywhere you know he likes to eat and shop, before you think to check the training grounds. He’s there with some young kids and he’s fighting them, though you can hardly call it a fight. He's reading while they take swings at him?

You burst out into laughter. This man is so talented that he can actually read smut while three genin come at him all at once. Kakashi looked up from his book recognizing the joyful sound and apologized to his students before appearing at your side.

“Hey! Kakashi-sensei! You said you were gonna train us today!”

“Sorry everyone, something has come up. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You’d really abandon your students for me?”

“You’re important.”

The way he stares at you when he says that beautiful statement shows the sincerity behind his words. You feel it in your bones, he means it.

“Sorry! I’m borrowing your sensei for the rest of the day. He’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh? You’re taking me for the rest of the day?”

“Got a problem with that?”

“Not a one.” The nonchalance in his tone makes you tingle. With fingers interlaced you tug him towards your house. “Mind telling me what we’re doing?”

“A re-do.”

“A re-do?”

“Of last night.”

“Okay?” You tug Kakashi till he’s crashing into your chest in front of your house. You slot your key into the nob and open the door while smiling up at him.

“Would you like to come inside?”

He smiles under his mask and lets himself in. Shoes neatly placed by the door, as soon as you're in your socks he spins you around in his arms.

“So what about last night do you specifically want to redo?”

You brace the back of his neck, pulling him towards you and hook your finger in his mask, tugging the fabric down. Lips crashing together, Kakashi’s open ever so slightly, deepening the kiss with a light amount of tongue. You don’t know how to describe the fireworks that ignite and sparkle in your chest as you taste him for the first time. He’s incredible, the kind of kiss a girl only reads about.

Your body melts into his, your arms falling to his chest as he pulls you closer. Each tendon under your fingertips bluked with tension, his need bubbling up to the surface while his mouth explored your lips. Mouths moving in sync, the dizziness sets in and you can’t help the way your brain stutters as you catch up to reality.

You pull away from him needing to catch your breath, a string of saliva still joining your pink skin with his. Your eyes pan up, filled with hearts while his fall back down to your mouth.

“We should have done that.” you whisper.

“I didn’t want to pressure you. I like to take things slow.”

“I don’t know if I can do that with you.”

It is an embarrassing thing to admit but you genuinely feel that way. Now that you know the truth, the desire that had been simmering below the surface was coming out in a tidal wave that threatened to take you both. Instead of insisting that he wanted to keep things slow he gives a wicked grin. “Anything for my princess.”

Your heart leaps into your throat and you lunge back in, ravenous for him. His hands glide down to your hips where he firmly grips you and grinds into you. Soft mewls permeate the air before you lead him towards your room. The door is closed and Kakashi doesn’t mind, he just pushes you up against it, pressing his hardened length into your center as his teeth release your lower lip.

After a wolfish exchange of glances his eyes trace along your jaw bone and take notice of your exposed neck. The pretty flesh could do with a few markings to make sure the entire town knows you are not available. You are claimed…by him.

He sinks into the flesh, earning a whimper from your pretty throat while your hand claws at the handle, trying desperately to rid the barrier between you and the bed. Once the latch is undone you topple into the room and stagger towards the mattress where he’s quick to toss you on your back.

Standing tall at your feet, Kakashi’s finger traces down your shoulder, down your chest, and all the way to your knee.

He curls his finger into the elastic of your socks and discards them one at a time. Next he removes your pants, kissing up your legs and inner thighs before he gets to your shirt. You arch to assist in the removal and are left below him in a bra and undies that you really wish were not the first pair he ever saw.

The man’s hungry eyes don’t care. He leans forward and softly kisses your lips before tracing feather-light smooches across your collarbone and down your sternum. His lips trace your ribs as he reaches around your back to undo the clasp of your bra. Once the tension releases he pulls the garment away and allows his lips to muse down to your pelvis. His tongue lightly licks each hip bone kissing a line over your stomach between them.

Your body wiggles on the bed, squirming to have him inside you, anticipation pricking your skin as you wait for him to rid you of the thin fabric that covers your heat. Instead, Kakashi lays his mouth over the fabric. With a gentle suck, he tugs against your clit, pulling it between his teeth and rolling his tongue over the sensitive spot. You shudder under him, craving more.

Tossing your arms over your head, you angle yourself so your hips buck up into his face. Kakashi takes a finger and pulls your underwear to the side. Two dexterous fingers slip into your slit, weeping with arousal. When they push into you and sink up to the third knuckle, he hooks them upward and begins to stroke.

Tiny cries and whimpers come from your lips. He knows exactly how to touch you, where to stroke, what to kiss, all of it overwhelming you and coming together like a symphony buzzing through your body.

With each stroke against your anterior wall you moan, fisting the sheets as tiny kisses stray from your nerve bundle and travel up your navel to the underside of your breasts. He begins to speak between kisses, “I told you when we first met,” His kisses stray higher, dangerously close to your areolas, “that I read because I want a girlfriend,” he raises his body on the bed and centers himself between your legs, rubbing his length deliciously along your folds “who I can spoil like a princess.” He presses his tip against your labia which opens up and gives way to his entry, earning a gasp with a soul-stealing arch of your back.

The way your body hugs him nearly makes his eyes cross. You’re too perfect. Every part of you is so delicate. He needs to protect it and cherish it. However, he’s afraid he doesn’t know how to cherish you without breaking you just a little. After the blood that rushed from your brain to your clit returns from whence it came you start to string his words together.

“Wait,” you try to think, putting your own words together while he strokes slowly into you with purposeful aim. “You didn’t tell me that.” Each word is laborious as his mushroom head drags against your velvet interior. “Sukea-ah!-Sukea said that.”

“Who do you think Sukea is, darling?” He continues to probe into you purposeful and pleasurable. Your insides coil, unable to control how you react to his precision. His thrusts become heavy and quick. The thoughts that should be crowding your mind vacate. He was trying to tell you something, but what? All you can focus on is the way he glides in and out of you, taking a bit of your soul with each retreat.

He lifts his chest to look down on you, so adorable and needy below him. You paw at his chest politely requesting his lips return to yours. Recapturing them in a kiss, you suck on his lower one, demanding he stay close. He begins to pound into you, steadily getting rougher, “struggling to connect the dots, baby?”

He flips you over in a swift motion, recentering and diving back inside your slick center, anxiously receiving him and swallowing him whole. He puts pressure between your shoulders, pushing you down so your cheek kisses the sheets. His hips slam into your backside, his jewels swinging like a pendulum slapping up into the apex of your sex, hitting you exactly where you want it.

Twisting and moaning on the mattress, you mindlessly thank him for how good he’s treating you, praises to deities flow out of your mouth like a mantra. The smirk on Kakashi’s face is sinful. You are his sole focus and have been such for many months. He has difficulty pinpointing the last thought he had that didn’t revolve around you. Everything he does is tainted with the impurities of his lustful musings. And now that you're here, bent over with him buried up to the hilt, he is never going to be rid of his dirty thoughts about you.

“Com’on babe, who is Sukea?” He grabs you by the breast and pulls you up so your back is flush with his chest as he continues to pulse up into you, slowing his pace and giving you room to think. You almost put it together when his lips resume kissing the juncture of your neck and shoulder, while his fingers toy with your throat, ghosting over the skin, waiting to clamp down and cut off your airway.

“He’s-he’s my friend.”

“Aaand”

“And…and…ah!”

With a punctuated thurst he throws you back off the trail, pushing you down into the mattress again and resuming his harsh pace. You scream and cry overwhelmed by it all, then just when you think you can’t take anymore, his fingers travel between your legs and begin to circle your engorged nub.

You curl in on yourself but with a firm swat you force yourself open again. His movements get more ragged and uneven. For a moment you think he’s going to release but he steadies his breathing. Kakashi didn’t want to cum yet. He wants to look upon your face when he does. He flips you over to your back once more and settles on his knees, pulling you flush against him as he casually strokes. “Princess, I’m not going to ask you again, who do you think Sukea is?”

“What kind of question is that?” you breathe feeling exhaustion from the intense sensations of him driving into you while his fingers play with the peaks of your chest.

Your teeth girt when he captures each nub between his thumb and pointer finger and tugs upwards. The pain makes you clamp down around him to the point he has to let go to stop from painting your insides. With harsh, slow blows, he rams into you while taunting in your ear. “It��s the kind of question that’s supposed to make you think. How am I claiming to have spoken Sukea’s words?”

“Were you Sukea this whole time?”

“Ding ding ding! You won baby. I fell in love with you when I was just trying to mind my own business. You were so adorable in that ramen shop and everytime I saw you I wanted to tell you how you make my heart race. It’s me baby, it’s been me this whole time. And since the day I saw you, you’ve been my world.”

You should be mad but something about his confession was so desperate and sincere. He didn’t just want you, you said he fell in love with you. How didn’t you notice they were the same man? You guess you never had a reason to suspect or think anything of it. Though you would likely punish him for his deceit later, for now, you reach up to his mouth and press your lips into his once more. When you pull back you whisper, “Tell me again.”

“That I’m Sukea?”

“No, you know which part.”

“I love you. I’ve been in love with you and I will keep being in love with you till you send me away.”

You sigh happily into his neck, nudging your nose against his jaw bone, feeling the skin kept secret from so many. As your breath fans over him, he lets loose, his strokes becoming uneven, punching into you harsher and stronger till he grunts out a mouthwatering sound that has you flutter around him and scream out his name. You writhe together, toes curling, bodies caging, grinding into the other as you ride your high.

He stares into your eyes lost in the reality of what just happened till sense is knocked back into him. “Wait,” he pulls out of you suddenly. Cold air replaces his body heat.

“What?!”

“We didn’t...are you on birth control?”

“Of course.”

He happily rests his forehead against yours. “Thank goodness. I can’t believe you got me so careless. I normally think more.”

You circle your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back, sitting astride him victorious. “You think you’re ready to be careless again?”

And with your simple power move, Kakashi feels the hardness return to his member and begins pulsing, needing to be inside you again. You notice and smirk, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Masterlist

#kakashi x reader #kakashi x you #kakashi smut #kakashi fics #hatake kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakashi is daddy #anon ask #sukea #sukea kakashi #smut readers #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi senpai

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chillypowder · 7 months ago

Text

A Future Without You

Pairing: Ekko x Reader

Word Count: ~2,050

Genre: Angst, Tragedy

Summary: Years after encouraging you to leave the violence of the Undercity, Ekko discovers you’ve returned—as an Enforcer. Old wounds reopen as duty and ideology threaten to pull you apart once more. In the end, love may not be enough to bridge the divide between your worlds.

Warnings: Violence, major character death, emotional conflict

Ekko sat on the rickety railing of a Firelight hideout, the glow of the Undercity flickering below. The humming engines of passing drones were drowned out by his own thoughts—visions of a face he hadn’t seen in years but could never forget. The reader. You.

He’d told himself he had done the right thing back then, encouraging you to leave. “This place ain’t safe for you,” he’d said, his voice trembling under the weight of unspoken fears. Back then, you’d both known that staying meant being swallowed by the violence that consumed the Undercity. You’d begged him to come with you, but Ekko had stayed. He had a cause. A family. A purpose.

But what was the point of fighting for tomorrow if you weren’t in it?

He sighed, his thumb tracing the edges of the Z-Drive strapped to his wrist. It was a constant reminder of the choices he couldn’t undo and the moments he couldn’t relive, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Boss.” One of his scouts interrupted his thoughts, climbing up onto the railing. “You’re gonna wanna see this.”

Ekko leapt down, his boots landing silently on the metal grating. “What is it?” he asked, trying to push the pang of longing back into the recesses of his mind.

The scout hesitated. “Enforcers. We spotted a squad near the border. They’re armed, but they don’t look like a raid party. One of ‘em… they look familiar.”

His heart stopped for a moment. He followed the scout to a hidden vantage point. Through the scope of his makeshift binoculars, he spotted a small group of Enforcers patrolling the alleyway below.

And there you were.

You moved with confidence, your armor glinting in the sickly green light of the Undercity. The years had hardened you; the softness he remembered had been replaced with a sharp, almost dangerous resolve.

Ekko’s breath caught. It had been so long since he’d seen you. So long since he’d heard your voice. So long since he’d broken his own heart by letting you go.

The confrontation came faster than he expected. The Firelights intercepted the Enforcers before they could make it further into the Undercity. Ekko stood at the forefront, his mask hiding his face but not the determination in his stance.

“Enforcers don’t belong here,” he said coldly, his voice amplified by the modulator in his mask.

Your hand hovered over your weapon. “We’re not here to fight.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

The tension crackled like a live wire. Ekko’s crew had their weapons drawn, and the Enforcers shifted uneasily. Then, you stepped forward, lowering your weapon—a gesture of trust.

“Please,” you said, your voice softer now, more familiar. “We just want to talk.”

Ekko hesitated. He could feel the eyes of his crew on him, waiting for his decision. After a moment, he gestured for them to lower their weapons.

The conversation took place in one of the Firelight hideouts, a dimly lit room filled with the hum of machinery and the faint scent of oil. Ekko removed his mask, and the shock on your face was impossible to hide.

“It’s you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“It’s me,” he replied, his tone flat.

You reached out as if to touch him, but stopped yourself, your hand falling back to your side. “I thought you were…”

“Gone?” Ekko finished for you. “Yeah. I thought the same about you.”

The room seemed to shrink around you as the weight of everything unsaid hung in the air. Your comrades stood awkwardly in the background, but Ekko gestured for his crew to give you space.

“What are you doing here?” he finally asked, crossing his arms.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you shot back. “The Firelights, the raids… This is what you stayed for?”

“This is my home,” he said simply.

“And look what it’s done to you.”

The bitterness in your voice cut deeper than you intended, and Ekko flinched. You took a breath, trying to steady yourself. “I joined the Enforcers to make a difference, Ekko. I thought… I thought I could help. But seeing you here…”

“Seeing me here makes you what? Guilty?” His voice was sharp now, laced with anger he hadn’t meant to show.

“No,” you said firmly. “It makes me remember why I left.”

The argument spilled out like a storm, years of frustration and heartbreak fueling every word.

“You don’t get to lecture me about choices,” Ekko snapped. “You think I wanted this? You think I didn’t want to leave with you?”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because someone had to stay and fight for the people who couldn’t leave!”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“You don’t understand,” Ekko said, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “You don’t know what it’s like to watch everything you love fall apart and not be able to do anything about it.”

“I do understand,” you said, your voice trembling. “Do you think leaving was easy for me? Do you think I didn’t hate myself every day for it?”

“Then why did you come back?”

“Because I thought I could save you!”

The words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered.(like the air😭)

The reunion didn’t end in resolution. You left with your squad, and Ekko let you go, his heart heavier than ever. But the encounters didn’t stop. Over the next few weeks, you crossed paths again and again—on the battlefield, in negotiations, in quiet moments stolen from the chaos around you.

Each time, the old feelings resurfaced, tangled with the new scars you both carried.

One night, you found yourselves alone in the ruins of an old factory, the only sounds the distant hum of Shimmer labs and the occasional drip of water from a broken pipe.

“I never stopped loving you,” Ekko admitted, his voice barely audible over the din.

You looked at him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Then why does it feel like we’re further apart than ever?”

He didn’t have an answer.

In the end, it was duty that tore you apart for good. The Firelights and the Enforcers collided in a brutal skirmish, and Ekko found himself face to face with you once more.

“Don’t do this,” he pleaded, his weapon lowered.

“I have to,” you said, your voice cracking. “This is bigger than us.”

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “It’s not. It’s always been about us.”

For a moment, it seemed like you might lower your weapon. But then, a shout from one of your comrades broke the spell.

“Stand down!”

The explosion that followed sent you both flying. Ekko woke up to find the battlefield eerily quiet, the smoke and debris settling around him. And then he saw you.

You were lying a few feet away, blood pooling beneath you.

“No,” he whispered, scrambling to your side. “No, no, no…”

Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled weakly. “Ekko…”

“Don’t talk,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “I’ll get you help. You’re gonna be okay.”

But you both knew it wasn’t true.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“For what?” he asked, his voice breaking.

“For leaving. For coming back. For everything.”

“No,” he said firmly, his hands trembling as he held you. “You don’t get to apologize. This isn’t your fault.”

You reached up, your hand brushing against his cheek. “I’m glad… I got to see you again.”

And then you were gone.

Ekko sat alone in the hideout that night, your words echoing in his mind. He stared at the Z-Drive on his wrist, the temptation gnawing at him.

He could go back. He could save you.

But no matter how many times he replayed the moment, no matter how many ways he tried to change the outcome in his mind, he knew it wouldn’t work. Some things couldn’t be undone.

Some things had to be let go.

Ekko’s grief became a part of him, woven into the fabric of who he was. But so did your memory. He carried it with him, a reminder of what he’d lost and what he still had to fight for.

And though the future felt emptier without you, he vowed to keep moving forward. For you. For the Undercity. For a tomorrow where love and sacrifice wouldn’t have to be the same thing.

Masterlist

#arcane season 2 #league of legends angst #league of legends arcane #league of legends #league of legends ekko #angst #angst with no happy ending #ekko arcane #arcane ekko #arcane #ekko #ekko x reader #ekko league of legends #ekko angst

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