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sacredsorceress · 2 days

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Scars / Logan Howlett

pairing: dofp!logan howlett x mutant!reader summary: every person has a soulmate. after settling in the future that he saved, logan starts to consider his next mission when a suspicious mark appears on him. word count: 3.2k a/n: good ol'fashioned soulmate AU. this is the first actual fic i've written in a long time so please have some grace. reblogs and replies are super appreciated! warnings: general mentions of logan's past, scars, self-doubt, alcoholism, reader smokes a cigar, mentions of razors, scars, wounds, two uses of y/n

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It had been a week since Logan woke up in his healed timeline.

For most people, the change would have been dramatic. But Logan was far unlike most people. The initial dreamlike state he was in when he first walked through the mansion- seeing the ghosts he had once known returned to the flesh, unscathed- quickly subsided. Logan had always been a man thrown onto a new path- how he lived life constantly changing to best fit his interests. Now, with his newfound peace he found the most complicated mission of all: what to do with the life he was now free to live?

Even before the sentinels, the battles, the wars- he had always been a man on the run. He was solo, strategic, concise. For a man who was gifted with infinite regeneration, he had solely concerned himself with staying alive. He ate for sustenance, sought shelter for safety, and nursed a bottle to find enough peace of mind to sleep at night.

The professor had once told him that for a person to reach self-actualization they first had to have all of their needs met. Logan had scoffed at the time, assuring the professor that he knew himself just fine. But now, with his problems so solved that they had ceased to ever exist, he wondered if maybe the professor was right.

Who was he? Where did he go from here?

The answer was found in the form of a scar on his hand.

"Well, everything seems to be just fine."

Logan scoffed at the blue man in front of him

"Well it's not." Logan said. "Check again."

Two days after he had come back, a large, circular scar had appeared on the palms of each of his hands. When they hadn't disappeared after two minutes, he rushed to the bathroom and nicked himself with his razor, watching as the wound healed with only blood dripping down his scruff as a remanent of it. Thirty minutes after that he found himself in the lab with Hank, Jean, and the Professor hypothesizing his miraculous marks.

"Logan, the tests came back clear." Jean assured him, leaning against the wall. "Maybe it's time to consider that it's something else."

Logan quirked his head towards her.

"I haven't had a scar in over two hundred years," he reminded her, his voice laced with irony. "I get not one, but two and you... what? Think it's a coincidence?"

Before Jean had a chance at rebuttal, the professor moved to face Logan.

"That's not what Jean's inferring, Logan." Charles reminded him. "We're simply asking that you consider other options. Less... dire options. It could, after all, be a good thing."

"Yeah?" Logan scoffed. "Like what?"

A silence hung in the air.

When Logan had first come to them with news of his scar, the thought had been on all three of their minds. Still, there were a plethora of things that could have caused that. Though, when the tests came back clear and his skin continued to heal from all sorts of abrasions, it felt as if there was only one answer for his seemingly magical scars.

However, none of them were keen on sharing this diagnosis with Logan. One wondered whether he'd handle the idea of his body failing him over fated love.

Hank was the first to speak up.

"Like a soulmate."

Oh that was rich, Logan thought.

Logan wasn't unfamiliar with the idea of soulmates.

Around the time that two fated lovers were destined to meet, there would be a sign for each of them. In some cases they were eyes changing colors, feeling the other's pain, finding their names everywhere they looked. In other cases they were new birthmarks, tattoos, scars.

In some way, the two were inextricably connected.

In his long life he had seen others experience it dozens if not hundreds of times. When the first thirty years of his life rolled around with no one, Logan accepted that he was one of the outliers. He considered it for the best and by now, with everything that he had gone through, the concept of soulmates almost seemed like an old wives' tale.

Logan glanced at their faces. When he realized they were serious, a deep laugh escaped from his gut. There was a lack of light in his eyes that admitted his insincerity.

"So I disappear for a few decades and you all start believing in fairytales?" Logan pulled the needles from his arm, the heart rate monitor going flat as he did. "What a bunch of bullshit."

Jean laid her hand against his chest, urging him back into the seat.

"Logan." She soothed him. "This is a good thing. Scott and I-"

Oh this was real rich.

"Scott and you are... what, huh?" Logan urged. "Soulmates?"

Logan scoffed, swiping Jean's hand from his chest.

"Bet you're so happy with your 'soulmate' and that's why you lead me on, huh? That it? You're happy?" He taunted, a dark laugh escaping him once more. "Spare me-"

"Logan, that's enough!"

The professor's voice echoed against the linoleum walls of the lab, reverberating off of the medical equipment throughout.

"If you want to wallow in your own self-deprivation, be my guest, but spare the rest of us your grief." Charles continued. "I think it would be best if you go back to your quarters and consider the future the universe has offered you."

The energy in the air was thick.

Jean and Hank avoided Logan’s eye contact while the professor’s nearly burned a whole through him.

Accepting defeat, Logan threw his hands up in the air and pushed himself out of his metal chair.

“Fine.”

Soulmates. Logan thought. Who would believe in a thing like that?

"It's a pleasure to see you again."

The atmosphere in the mansion was a stark contrast to the lab Charles had been in days before.

Now the school day had commenced: children skipping from class to class, students chatting with their friends in the hallway, teachers grabbing coffee between lessons. Amidst the organized chaos, Charles had arranged to meet you in the foyer: the replacement history teacher for Logan's class.

"You too, professor." You smiled, reaching out your hand. "I was so glad to hear from you."

Your hand hung in the air briefly, awaiting his return. Charles examined it for a moment- a twinkle in his eye- before taking it. His thumbs brushed against the newfound scars between your knuckles as he did.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you didn't always have these scars, did you, Y/n?" Charles asked.

You had not.

You had woken with them a few days before. Despite your powers rooted in chaos magic, it wasn't uncommon for blemishes or wounds to etch themselves into your skin. However, you often knew why. These marks, scars, were not faint, but instead quite profound. Three thick, healed over wounds patched together like a stitch on the back of each of your hands.

"No professor."

He closed his eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. Though you knew he wished to ask more questions, the moment was broken by Logan.

"Ah, the man himself." Charles beamed. "Logan, I'd like you to meet Y/n. She'll be covering your class."

You had seen your fair share of news stories about the Wolverine. Who hadn't? Though the television had never prepared you for just how tall, or broad he was.

"It's nice to meet you, Logan."

"You too." He nodded, taking your hand.

His hand lingered in yours for a moment. Charles cleared his throat.

"We were just discussing the most peculiar scar on Y/n's hand." Charles said. "Appeared just a few days ago out of nowhere."

Charles nodded his head in the direction of your hand, leading Logan to squint. As if a light bulb had gone off over his head, Logan glanced between Charles and yourself and with your hand still in his, he turned it examine the back.

Three scars between your knuckles. Right where his own claws would be.

Though he liked to imagine himself as the patron of remaining suave, Logan's eyebrows shot up at the recognition. He traced his view from your hands, up your torso, to your face where you eyed him questioningly.

He thought back to the way that he woke up in the seventies, wrapped in the arms of another woman. If times had been different and Logan hadn't undergone all the so-called character development in the last forty years, he was sure that a face like yours would have gotten him in a lot of trouble. You were beautiful, and your demeanor highlighted your strength.

Your face radiated kindness, warmth and most of all, sincerity- a trait that was difficult to come by in a trade such as his.

But then Logan recalled that this wasn't the seventies and you weren't at some bar leading him on the entire night: your hand was in his and, according to everyone else, he was yours.

The idea almost couldn't register in Logan's brain.

"Interesting, isn't it, Logan?" Charles asked, breaking the silence. "Almost identical to where your claws are, hmm?"

Oh the professor thought he was quite funny.

Logan pulled his hand back from your grasp and shook his head.

"Not that easy, Charles." Logan commented before turning to you, a spiteful tone in his voice. "See you around, bub."

Before you had the chance to open your mouth, you watched as Logan stomped down the nearest hallway, his boots squeaking against the floorboards as he did. His fists clenched and released at his sides as he disappeared from view.

His reaction had come so far from left field that if it hadn't given you whiplash, it would have hurt your ego. Instead you turned back to the professor.

"Was it something I said?" You asked.

The professor shook his head, patting your hand gently.

"Logan's quite a complicated man." He assured you. "I'm sure you'll come to know that more than the rest of us. Now, to your classroom..."

Glancing over your shoulder to the void-like hallway that Logan went down, you considered the professor's words.

A storm had taken over the mansion by nightfall.

As you padded down the wood panelled hallways, the lightbulbs shook in their glass with each thunder clap- wind swatting at the window panes every few seconds. The pitter patter of the raindrops, although harsh, was comforting. It was almost as if the mansion had been engulfed by the storm, trapping everyone inside, while consequently making the outside world feel a thousand miles away.

When you found Logan's door, tucked in at the end of the hallway, you knocked.

"Yep."

The weight of the door fell against the palm of your hands as you pushed it open.

Logan's room was dark. The only light in the space had been from the embers of the cigar that hung in his mouth, cradled between his thumb and forefinger. Despite the darkness, you could make out his figure sitting at his desk chair by the window, feet kicked up on the sill.

Logan only gave you a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back to the view.

"What d'you want?"

His voice was thick and rough around the edges.

"I came for your textbooks." You replied, tiptoeing against his floorboards. "The professor said you'd have them."

The hand of his that held the cigar waved around. Minuscule ashes fell to the floor as your eyes remained trained on the light and the faint glow of the moon that illuminated the side of his face.

"Be my guest," he said. "Don’t have a clue where they are."

The professor had given you the lowdown when he saw your scars.

Charles told you that despite everything that you had learned- the history that you had known- the Wolverine you'd meet was not the same person. He was a man from a different time with far different, darker memories and enough baggage to weigh down dozens.

Amidst the silence, you cleared your throat.

"Must be hard to wake up in someone else's life."

By now you had reached his desk, your fingertips tracing the lines in the dark, lacquered wood.

You could smell him and the cigar from this distance- aftershave mixed with smoke.

"The professor tell you that?"

"Mhm."

The chair creaked as Logan flicked his hand towards the window, ushering you to come closer.

Watching your step in the dark, you maneuvered around the furniture and sat beside Logan on his desk- pushing loose papers to the side.

"He give you his whole spiel on soulmates too?" He asked, eyes trained on the rain outside.

Soulmates.

Now that was the last thing you expected to come from the Wolverine's mouth.

You'd heard of them more times than you could count. You once wondered whether every repetitive coincidence was a sign that your person was coming. But, when that never happened, you lost hope.

Who got to tell you who you belonged to anyway?

Leaning over, you gingerly took the cigar from his grasp and replaced it with your own fingers. Sitting back into the desk as lightening struck a tree in the distance, you took a puff.

"So that's what the scars on my hands were all about," You thought aloud.

The window fogged as you let the smoke leave from your mouth in a breathy sigh.

Logan tapped his fingers on his thighs, counting the seconds between a lightening strike and its consecutive rumble of thunder.

"Listen, I'm no prince charming if that's what you came here looking for."

Logan's chair creaked again as he leaned back in his seat. His arm draped against the desk as he met your gaze.

You chuckled and held out his cigar, offering it back to him.

"I came here looking for textbooks." You laughed. "You're the one who keeps talking about soulmates. I think you're more of a romantic than you let on.”

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the cigar back into his own hand. Another lightning strike met the ground in the distance, a clap of thunder following moments afterwards.

"You don't buy it?" Logan quirked his eyebrow. It was a teasing question, one he was curious to hear your answer to.

You shrugged.

"I don't think the universe gets to tell me who to love," you said. "If I fall in love with you it's because I love you, Logan. Not because some mark told me to. I just think of it as... a little shove in the right direction.”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile for the first time.

"A shove?"

"Like a... blind date." You finished. "Ever been on one of those?"

A congested laugh escaped him.

"Sweetheart, do I look like the type of guy to go on a blind date?"

You bit the inside of your cheek at the name.

Rolling your eyes, you swatted at his arm. You wouldn't admit how much it hurt your knuckles to do so. You'd have to make a mental note to remember his adamantium skeleton.

"Gosh, you're cocky!"

Logan shrugged, "You're the one who likes it apparently."

You felt yourself grow hot at his accusation.

Even though he had a mark signalling his future affection for you, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed by Logan's knowledge of yours. You felt like a child who's crush had just been exposed to the whole class. Was he noting ever glance that you gave him? The way you didn't move when his arm brushed against yours?

A brief pause hung in the air until another thunder clap reverberated against the walls.

"So what's your mark?" You asked.

Logan shoved the cigar into the corner of his mouth. The biting motion forced him to flex his jaw in a way that you would refuse to admit made you start to realize that maybe the universe was right.

And that maybe his cockiness was justified.

He laid out his hands for you. The room was still dark, making the ability to discern the details of his scar impossible. Taking Logan's hands in yours, you summoned your magic into your hands, watching as they glowed gold.

Logan had two large, circular scars imprinted into his palms. It was a clear indicator of your own magical power that surged from your hands.

It left a feeling you couldn't describe in your chest to know that someone else was marked for you. They were destined for you. To be with you. You had a future written together before the two of you had met. Even if he rejected you, there was a sign etched into his skin that bound the two of you together in some fateful way.

Gently, you traced your fingertips against the mark, feeling the warmth that radiated from his palms.

When your eyes flicked upwards, you noticed how close the two of you were now sitting. You could feel his warm breath against your lips as the lingering smell of the cigar drifted up your nose.

Although he wouldn’t admit it, Logan was enchanted by the energy radiating from you. Whether people hated or loved him, his ability got a lot of talk. In his mind though, he would never be a hero. He was just some guy who got lucky.

You, though? He didn’t need you to tell him that you were an Omega level mutant. Logan had heard about you from the professor: you could cast spells, read minds, reconfigure reality- to name a few. You didn't need a reason to fight for what's right, you just did. Again, and again, and again. Even here, now, you were picking up Logan's history class when he knew very well you could be on the other side of the world sipping pina coladas if you wanted.

What the hell was the universe thinking putting you with him?

Logan admired the reflection of the magic on your cheeks and the way your eyes stayed trained on his palms. Your touch was so gentle he could have sworn he was in a distant dream until your eyes met his.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, gaze locked.

Then another clap of thunder shook the mansion.

You quickly leaned back, pulling your hands from Logan's touch.

"I should... I should go." You said, pushing yourself off of Logan's desk. "It's getting late and I have my first class in the morning."

Logan leaned back in his seat. He said nothing but eyes remained fixed on your form as you made your way towards the door.

Looking back at him with your hand on the knob you made a mental note to remember the image of him with his feet kicked back on the window as he smoked his cigar.

A soft smile remained.

"Good night, Logan."

When you didn't leave immediately, he nodded.

"Night, sweetheart."

Mustering up the courage to shoot him one last smile, you pulled open the door and stepped outside.

Now, Logan didn't know how much he believed in soulmates, but he could be inclined to consider that it was one good wingman.

Leaning back in his seat, Logan sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself drown out his worries with the sound of the rain.

a/n: my inbox is open for more requests! thank you for the request @welcometochilis585

#wolverine #logan howlett #logan #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine fluff #wolverine fanfiction #xmen #xmen fanfiction #deadpool and wolverine

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foldingfittedsheets · 3 days

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A basic human skill that people usually lock down around the age of three or four is impulse control. To conceptualize an action and it’s consequences before taking it. Maybe considering how that action affects other people. We then refine it through most of our childhood.

When I was a teenager my hold on this ability became… tenuous. I became a volatile and dangerous creature.

It’s probably not unique to me, but I had a perfect storm in terms of mental upsets. I had just mastered enough basic social skills, so I finally had a strong group of friends when my dad suddenly needed to move for work. Ripped away from my support network, blooming with hormones, I was dragged to Arizona. I was always a child of forests and mist and suddenly everything was hot, dry, and extremely pointy and aggressive.

Additionally to being abruptly transplanted I found myself an object of affection in a way I’d never been before. Lonely and desperate to make friends the only people who wanted to spend time with me had romantic designs. I just wanted to figure out my shit but I had a baby lesbian flirting with increasing aggression in art, a soft boy making heart eyes at me in biology, a senior nerd asking if I wanted to play Halo at his house and could he hold my hand?

Reader, I snapped. I didn’t want this romantic attention but I also didn’t want to be alone. My brain coped the only way it knew how, by simply cutting out decision making. Any action was the right action to take.

It started with the boy in biology. I’d stolen his pencil out of mischief and to my overwhelming fury instead of trying to steal it back he just softened his eyes and chucked me gently under my chin, a gesture so overtly sweet and romantic that I saw red.

I stabbed him with his own pencil.

I honestly and truly have no memory of it. It happened as fast as a snake striking and I was instantly filled with terrified remorse. Unfortunately that manifested as psychotic giggling.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I don’t know why- I’m so sorry!” I said, while hysterically laughing. I ended up having lodged some graphite in his palm and had to tweeze it out with my nails while apologizing furiously. (It’s very important to note here that he forgave me and we’re still friends)

That was weird, I thought. Why didn’t I think before I stabbed someone?

The next event was equally catastrophic, and I had even less reason to do it. In gym with two girls I was tentatively befriending, we were warming up running laps. I started racing one of them. At breakneck speed we were sprinting around the gym.

This time, there was a blip of thought before I fucked up. I should get the other girl! I have no idea why or what the plan was but I turned on a swivel and body checked the other girl. We both fell down in immense pain. I think that’s the moment I broke my tailbone. Her knees were horribly bruised and she looked at me in bewildered pain. “Why did you do that?!”

I had no idea. I apologized and helped her up, both of us hobbling like newborn horses, bruised and hurting.

By this time there’d been enough social upheavals that I was reduced to spending time with some girls I had nothing in common with and low key disliked. Sat at a table listening to this girl talk about how she wanted to be a stripper when she grew up I thought, You’d better put the cap on before you throw it.

I then chucked my empty water bottle directly at her face. It bounced off her forehead with a bop! that would have made a sound mixer weep at its perfection.

All eyes turned to me is startlement. I stared back at her, stunned by my own action, just as confused as everyone else at the table as to why I’d done that. One of the girls to my right said, “Were you trying to hit that fly?”

“Yes!” I lied, “I’m sorry, I thought I could hit the fly!”

Everyone laughed at my antics and I joined in rather than admit I had just chucked something at her for no reason.

Things did start to improve after that. I solidified a friendship with the girl I’d raced (who I developed a massive crush on and ten years later would go on to date). My outbursts turned more whimsical rather than aggressive. Like accosting a girl leaving the cafeteria to look deeply into her eyes and say with great compassion, “It’s going to be alright.”

My new friend and I snuck into the van that delivered our cafeterias baked goods and lay giggling in the back. When I’d impulsively hopped in she’d joined me and made it a game.

After a year in Arizona I broke down crying to my mother, an act of great desperation, and we ended up moving back home. My impulse control returned to normal teenage levels and life resumed in a happier state of mind.

#ramblies #story #writing #ffs foibles #funny story #teen angst #arizona #impulse control

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norrisainz33 · 2 days

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New Girl Pt. 2 || GR63

☆ summary: george has a new nonfamous partner who the fans absolutely adore

☆ pairing: george russell x nonfamous!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none

☆ requested: had a few people ask for a part 2 on this one so here it is!!

part 1 here

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

mercedesamgf1 has posted a video

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, georgerussell63, yourbff and 154,234 others

mercedesamgf1: asking george all of your questions ahead of the singapore grand prix!

view all 327 comments

user1: the way his face lights up at the mention of y/n 😭

user2: no the way he respects her privacy is so wholesome

user3: georgie is the whole package i’m sick

user4: admin you are a real one for asking about y/n

mercedesamgf1: 🤭

user5: wait i think he’s hinting about y/n getting social media

user6: omg ur so right he def is

user7: he’s clearly so in love with her i’m so jealous

user8: god i see what you have done for others!!!!!

user9: y/n is just a girl and i love it

georgerussell63 has posted to his story

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user8: she’s so pretty what the heck

landonorris: you bringing her to padel or what ?

georgerussell63: how many times are you going to ask to hang out with MY girlfriend

landonorris: dude she’s awesome and i wanna be her friend tf

georgerussell63: she said she’ll come play with us 🙄

lilymhe: GORGEOUS VIEW. i’m taking her out next

georgerussell63: double date?

lilymhe: um no , solo date just me and y/n

user10: boyfriend george is unlike any other

user13: ok lover boy

user14: ahhhh she really is in singapore with you omg

user15: we stan our unbothered and not chronically online queen

georgerussell63 has made a post

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georgerussell63: when in singapore!

[tagged: landonorris, alex_albon, ynuser]

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user12: he’s so fine

user5: 🚨🚨 HE TAGGED Y/N 🚨🚨

user6: LOSING MY MIND OVER THIS

user14: THE QUEEN HAS ARRIVED

mercedesamgf1: obligatory padel post!

landonorris: you forogt to post the part where y/n and i beat you and alex

ynuser: yeah georgie where was the acknowledgement huh?

maxverstappen1: oh i like her already @.georgerussell63

alex_albon: i have no idea what you guys are talking about

georgerussell63: my bad everyone. yes, it’s true - lando and y/n did beat alex and i in padel

alex_albon: @.georgerussell63 noooo why’d you sell us out like that

user16: i wanna take a bite out of his thigh

user23: i hope singapore treats you well george

ynuser has posted to their story

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user7: a working gal ok i see you y/n

yourbff: great first story y/n/n

ynuser: thanks bestie ,, just wait till you see my first post

yourbff: i’m glad you’re finally leaving the stone ages and joining us on social media 🤍

ynuser: lmfao you know i hate attention like this

yourbff: then you fell in love with the wrong man 😂😂

ynuser: i did not - he’s perfect!! i just have to get used to it. working on ‘coming out of my shell’ as they say 🫠

yourbff: you and your shy self are perfect the way you are!!

georgerussell63: yes you are doing it right my gorgeous girl

ynuser: thank you 🥹

ynuser: also your fans are quick i never thought id be perceived like this on the internet 🫣

georgerussell63: hahah yeah they are. i’m sorry if it’s overwhelming darling

ynuser: seems it comes with the territory!! alexandra and lily been giving me some tips so don’t worry about me

georgerussell63: glad you have them!! don’t let the fame go to your head 😉

ynuser: HA i am not famous please don’t say that 😭

landonorris: oh some quality content

ynuser: thanks lando

mercedesamgf1: welcome to instagram y/n! looking forward to seeing you in singapore!

ynuser: wow thanks mercedes!

user8: you are so normal and i absolutely love it

user10: you’re giving all us fans hope

ynuser has posted to their story

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user10: stop you making bracelets and handing them out was the cutest thing i’ve ever seen

user11: you might be my favorite wag to ever exist ,, what do you mean you made bracelets to trade 😭

georgerussell63: blimey you are so adorable

ynuser: so are you!!

georgerussell63: how did i get so lucky?

ynuser: georgie 🥹 im the lucky one

georgerussell63: i’m definitely the lucky one. you’ve changed my life in the best way possible

ynuser: brb sobbing

yourbff: i’m so jealous of your life girl

ynuser: it might all be a dream idk

yourbff: nooo stop

user27: you being so shy and timid yet still taking the time to hand out bracelets with the girlies is true peoples princess behavior

landonorris: thanks for the bracelet! i think it brought me some luck

ynuser: gotta bring george some luck next 😭

mercedesamgf1: it’s such a pleasure having you in the paddock 🤍

ynuser: thanks for looking after me admin 🤍

user12: thanks for being so sweet to me and my friend this weekend!! never change y/n!!

ynuser has made a post

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ynuser: life recently can be summed up in one word.. surreal

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yourbff: absolutely fire first post tho i should have been in it

ynuser: next one you will be dw

user8: the queen has posted everyone stay calm and collected in this comment section

user11: where is that dress from i’m crying it’s so pretty

ynuser: would you believe me if i said tjmaxx?

user11: truly the most iconic answer you could have ever given

user7: you are the blueprint

georgerussell63: your beauty is surreal

ynuser: george russell you are everything

alexandrasaintmleux: stunning 🤍

ynuser: 🤍

user26: starting a y/n fan club as we speak! like this comment to join

user26: NOT GEORGE LIKING HAHAH

user27: thank you for giving us nonfamous shy girlies hope y/n 😭

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated. have a few works in progress that i’m hoping to get out this week. appreciate all of your support 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

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ariestrxsh · 2 days

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🖤 content warning: 🖤 smut, public teasing, public punishment, blowjob, degradation, humiliation, use of blindfold, use of restraints, spitting, light slapping, light choking, fingering, pussy slapping, dacryphilia, use of sex toys in public, exhibitionism/voyeurism, mean!roughdom!chris, mean!roughdom!matt, brattysub!reader

🖤 summary: 🖤 after capitalizing off of a chance to tease chris and matt, making them both cum on stream and nearly humiliate them in front of their fans, they retaliate against you and give you a taste of your own medicine.

🖤 this fic name/song was inspired/requested by this ask and the concept was inspired/requested by this ask 💖 this is only the first part, and there will be multiple parts to this story. just a heads up, it gets rougher.

peaches & eggplants part one 💖

You knew Chris and Matt were going to punish you for what you were about to do, but you just couldn't wait until they were done streaming. They were both perched at the edge of their seats in front of the monitor while Matt played fortnite and Chris watched, arguing amongst each other while a naughty idea crossed your mind.

The viewers weren't supposed to know you were in the room with them, so you hung back out of view of the camera. The nice thing about this was Matt and Chris couldn't stop you without drawing attention to you, and you knew they wouldn't do that, and with Nick still out of the country, you could practically get away with anything temporarily.

You stayed out of sight from the audience while you got on your hands and knees and stealthily crawled across the floor until you were under the desk between Matt's legs. He and Chris were both in grey sweatpants, and they knew how mad it drove you whenever they'd wear them.

You peered up at the two brothers above you, both sets of eyes fixed on the screen, blissfully unaware of what you had up your sleeve. Your red-painted fingernails gently brushed over the bulge in Matt's sweats, alerting him to your presence, and he looked down at you under the desk with a shocked expression on his face.

He quickly pulled his gaze back to Fortnite and tried to act like everything was normal, but he gently swatted away at your hand, a lazy attempt to get you to cut it out. You persisted, tugging at the waistband until Matt's member sprung out from behind the cotton fabric.

This sudden movement tipped off Chris to your mischevious plan to get one - or both - of them off while on stream with thousands of people. Chris stared down at you in disbelief as you wrapped your hand around Matt's already half-hard cock and started playing with it while you innocently looked into his eyes, nibbling on your lower lip.

He clenched his jaw, giving you a flash of contempt, and you batted your eyelashes at him as if to silently say, "Oh, what? You're mad at little old me?"

Chris couldn't take his eyes off of the way you skillfully stroked Matt's length, and the audience started to notice the shift in the energy.

"What do you guys think they're looking at?" One fan asked. "What's under the desk?" Someone else typed into the chat.

Matt thanked a few people who gifted while trying to remain composed, but you made that incredibly difficult when you wrapped your lips around him and started gently sucking on the tip, making him fully erect.

Chris stared down in awe at the way you teased his brother, secretly wishing he could feel your mouth. Matt started playing badly due to the distraction in the room, but other than that, he did a decent job at acting nonchalant.

That was until you made his entire rod disappear behind your lips, the head lightly tickling the back of your throat. He threw his head back and let out a sigh but tried to play it off as a reaction to his character dying in the game.

Matt peeked down every few seconds to steal a glance at the way you looked nearly swallowing him whole. He secretly loved having you do such an intimate thing while trying to keep it a secret from thousands of people.

You furiously pumped your hand back and forth while you bobbed up on and down on Matt's length, and he placed his hand over his mouth to suppress the sounds he so desperately wanted to make and to conceal the way he was gnawing through his bottom lip.

Before he could get too close, you took your attention away from Matt and made your way between Chris' legs. He intently watched you with his eager, blue eyes and even lifted his hips for you to help get his sweats off. He relished in the sensation of your soft, pink lips engulfing his member, your tongue swirling around on his mushroom-shaped tip, and your hand massaging his shaft.

Since he was just watching Matt play Fortnite, he was able to let his hands wander. He combed his fingers through your hair and placed his palm on the back of your head, encouraging you to take him deeper. You looked up at him with your big, hungry eyes while you quietly gagged on his cock.

You took him out of your mouth, kneeling down beneath the two of them while you stroked them both at the same time. The two brothers did their best to hold it together and keep their eyes on the screen, but you just looked so good teasing them that they couldn't properly focus.

A few more suspecting people spoke up in the chat. "What does Chris keep looking at?"

"Why is Chris smiling down at his lap?"

"Wonder why Matt is playing so badly. They should play DTI."

You continued pumping your hands back and forth, seeing which of them you could make cum first, like it was a game. Both of their swollen tips stared back at you, leaking a pretty, pearlescent substance. Simultaneously, both of their cocks began twitching against your palms, and they each erupted, blowing their loads into your hands while they each let out a satisfied sigh.

Thankfully, Matt's character died once more at the same time they both finished, so given the context, most of the audience misconstrued their sounds as disappointment. But a few chats came through, speculating.

"Why did that sound so...?"

"That's how I'm trying to make them sound."

As their thick, white fluids coated both of your hands, Matt and Chris said their goodbyes to the chat. "We have a persistent problem we need to go take care of," Chris stated, glancing down at you before ending the stream.

You knew you were in for it, and you didn't know in which way they would punish you, but a mixture of excitement and nervousness flooded your system once the camera was off.

"You like being a naughty little whore, huh? Making me and my brother cum on stream together?" Matt inquired, giving you a serious look. "Yeah, you like making a fool out of us? Couldn't wait til we were done, you desperate little slut?" Chris smirked down at you.

"You know, Chris. I think we should give her a taste of her own medicine," Matt declared, looking over at his brother. "I think that's the best idea you've ever had, Matt. Needy little whore should know how it feels to try to hold it together while having an audience," Chris replied, reaching under the desk and dragging you out from under it.

"Go be a good girl for once, go wash off your hands, and put on your prettiest dress for us, hmm?" Matt requested. You nodded and did as he said while Matt and Chris changed out of their cum soaked sweats and into nice outfits as well.

They both put on white tank top, jeans, and flannels, and when they emerged from their bedrooms, Matt was holding a pair of handcuffs, and Chris had a bandana in his hand. You were in a simple black dress and red heels that matched your manicured nails, and they both looked you up and down while they came up behind you.

"It's better if you don't fight back, princess," Matt whispered into your ear while he closed the handcuffs down around your wrists. "Yeah, we're just gonna take you somewhere real nice. That's all," Chris whispered into your other ear while he blindfolded you with the bandana.

Your mind explored the possibilities while the two brothers each grabbed one of your arms, yanking you around and leaving red marks on your flesh while they forced you out to the car and practically threw you into the back seat.

Matt got into the driver's seat, and you heard the familiar sound of the key turning in the ignition and the engine turning over while you felt Chris get into the back seat with you. The car started moving, and you had no idea where the three of you were going, but the unknown intrigued you, and you felt a warm, wet sensation forming between your legs.

This was made worse when Chris grabbed ahold of your face with his rough, veiny hands, forced open your jaw, and stuck his long fingers into your mouth. "You've been a bad little girl," Chris taunted you while you sucked on his fingers. He relished in how soft and wet your pretty little mouth felt.

Once he removed his digits from your throat, he delivered a few swift smacks across your face. "Can't wait to punish you, darling," Chris growled, his warm breath on your earlobe. Chris dug in between your legs and started poking and prodding around your pink folds.

"Oh, naughty girl. You're so wet," Chris gasped, slipping his fingers into your heat and curling them until he hit your gspot. You whimpered against Chris' chest while he pentetrated you hard and fast, telling you what a naughty girl you were for liking it so much.

Before he could draw an orgasm out of you, he withdrew his fingers, and you could hear him licking them clean, accompanied by a primal groaning sound while he savored your taste. He then shoved his digits back into your mouth, filling your tastebuds with your own flavor and his saliva.

"Like the way you taste, pretty girl?" Chris cooed. "Mhmmm," you whined while he finger-fucked your throat, making you gag some more before removing them.

"You make such pretty sounds when I use you," Chris whispered, wrapping his bony fingers around your throat and choking you while he shook you around, and when you opened your mouth to take a breath, he spit in it. He smiled at the way you swallowed it for him.

You couldn't get enough of the way Chris handled you, treating you like a little doll that was made solely for his pleasure. Tears started to roll down your cheeks while Chris cut off your air flow. "Aw, little baby's gonna cry? I'll give you something to cry about," Chris taunted you.

You felt the car stop, and you heard Matt say from the front seat, "I'll be right back. Make sure she doesn't misbehave any more than she already has."

Chris reached underneath your dress, taking off your panties and he shoved them into your mouth while he admired your sweet, wet pussy. He started exploring the delicate folds with his fingers, teasing your slit, and rubbing your sensitive clit.

"If you're gonna be a little slut, I'm gonna treat you just like one," Chris told you, and without warning, his hand came down hard as he slapped your pretty little cunt, making it even more swollen. You jumped and squealed as more tears ran down your cheeks, pleasure and pain creating a wonderful concoction in your system.

You weren't sure how public of a place Matt had parked in, but it excited you to think about your pussy on display for anyone who walked by the car to see while you were in such a compromised position. More tears streamed down your face, and Chris taunted you some more. "Gonna cry for me?" He asked teasingly, slapping your pussy some more.

Finally, Matt came back to the car. "Oh, good. You already got her panties off of her?" Matt smiled down at you, fiddling with the package he'd just bought while he admired your swollen, puffy lips between your legs from the way Chris played rough with you. Your mind swirled with excitement about what they were going to do to you.

"Put these on her," Matt demanded, handing Chris something. Suddenly, you felt Chris slipping something onto your bottom half that seemed to be a pair of underwear, but not the ones you came here with that were crammed into your mouth.

"You have to download an app to control them," Matt told Chris, looking at the directions on the package. What were they talking about? Before much longer, you felt a buzzing sensation against your clit, and you started to squirm and whine. Vibrating panties?

"It's working," Chris said, reaching between your legs to feel the vibration. "Alright, princess. Let's go," Matt called back to you from the front seat as he pulled out of the parking lot.

Chris continued to manhandle you while he teased you with the vibrating underwear, playing with the settings to see how you'd react to them. He took your supple breasts out of your dress and lightly pinched your nipples between his teeth, causing them to stiffen.

Your moans were distorted by the fact that the underwear were still stuffed in your mouth, and Chris graciously removed them for you once you felt the car slow. When it came to a full stop, Chris was unlocking the cuffs and untying the bandana you had wrapped around your head, and when you saw the two boys in front of you, they were smirking and chuckling at you.

Matt threw your purse at you and said, "Fix your hair and your makeup. You look like a cheap slut." You cleaned up your running mascara, touched up your eyeliner that had been rubbed away, and reapplied your smeared red lipstick. You had just finished smoothing out your stray hairs when you peered up from the little mirror in your hand and realized you were in the parking lot of a fancy Italian restaurant.

"Fuck," you whispered, realizing what this meant. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" Matt asked you in a fake sympathetic tone as it dawned on you. "Yeah, what's the matter, baby? You don't want us to make you cum with those little vibrating panties while we eat dinner in this crowded restaurant?" Chris chuckled at you. You looked at both of the boys wide-eyed and gulped. "What? You can dish it, but you can't take it?" Matt asked.

The three of you got out of the car. As you started walking toward the entrance, Chris turned the vibrating underwear back onto the first setting, and he watched you nearly stumble. They laughed at you, and Chris mimicked the way you almost tripped, making them laugh harder.

"Okay, princess. Now just tell them we need a table for three," Matt told you as you guys started to make your way through the door. They let you lead the way and approach the hostess stand, but right as you opened your mouth to speak, Chris turned the panties up a setting. Your breath caught in your throat, and your eyebrows furrowed, but you managed to get out the words, "Table for three, please." The hostess gave you a weird look but led you guys to a booth towards the back.

There were a few tables around where you guys sat, and you surveyed the people sitting at them, wondering if they had any idea they were getting dinner and a show. Chris and Matt sat next to each other across from you, and the hostess told you guys your server would be with you in just a moment.

Once you got into the booth, you crossed your legs to muffle the sound of the vibrating, but having your thighs squeezed together made the sensation feel more intense. Both Chris and Matt peered up at you from their menus, smirking. "Look at how pathetic she looks. She can barely keep it together," Chris said as you slouched down in your seat and bit your lip to keep a whimper from escaping.

There was a secret part of you that loved being teased in such a public place, but you still would have been mortified if anyone had found out what the three of you were up to. You sat up straight in your seat when the server came back to grab drink orders. Chris ordered a Pepsi, of course, Matt, a water, and you requested a peach bellini.

You figured if you were going to be humiliated and get your rocks off in a restaurant full of people, you might as well get drunk while doing it.

When the waiter asked to see your ID, you reached into your purse with a trembling hand, retrieved it, and slid it over towards him on the table. "Thank you, Miss," he said, studying the photo and your facial features to make sure they matched up. He slid it back over to you and walked away to go fetch your drinks.

Before you could pick it up at put it back in your purse, Chris reached over and snatched it away from you, looking at your driver's license photo that you hated of yourself. "I don't know, Matt. She had to show this horrible picture of herself to our waiter. That might be humiliation enough," Chris meanly joked. Matt chuckled along and rolled his eyes.

You stood up and went to grab it from Chris, but he pulled it back. "Hey. Don't bite the hand that feeds you. Or the hand that's controlling your vibrating panties right now," Chris said in a low, serious voice. Then he took your ID and flung it at you. It landed in your lap, and you scooped it up and tossed it back into your bag.

Matt and Chris stared at you lustfully and hungrily as you tried to hold it together while Chris played around with the different levels, alternating between the first three. Every time you looked like you were holding it together too well, he'd turn it up a notch, and any time your legs started to shake, and your eyes rolled back into your head while you gripped the fabric of the booth beneath you, he'd turn it down.

The server returned to take your food order, and the boys agreed upon bruschetta as an appetizer. Chris ordered himself chicken alfredo, and Matt ordered chicken parmigiano. When the server got to you, you cleared your throat, sat up taller, and tried to ignore the way you were being broken down slowly by the powerful sensation between your legs that was being controlled by the two gorgeous men across from you.

"I'll have the eggplant parmigiano, please," you managed to say, looking almost completely normal besides your flushed face and the bead of sweat that formed on your brow. The server took your menus and told you he'd return shortly with your drinks.

"Let me see it," Matt said to Chris, reaching for his phone. Chris handed it off to him, and Matt looked at you intently with a devilish grin as he kicked it up to level four. You slouched over onto the table and buried your head in your hands, completely unable to hide the pleasure written into your expression.

You peered back up at Matt with the neediest look in your eye, and your lips slightly parted while you started to tremble again. Matt shut off the vibration completely and watched the disappointed look come across your face as he ruined your orgasm. "You think I'd let you cum right away? After that shit you pulled earlier. Nah, you've been a naughty girl," Matt murmured, turning it back on to level one.

The waiter brought over your drinks, and you weakly smiled at him as he walked away. Matt turned the vibrator up a setting as an older lady made eye contact with you, and you sputtered on your alcoholic drink as you took a big sip. She shot you a dirty look as you rolled your eyes back into the back of your head and bit down on your lip.

You knew you weren't being sneaky, but you couldn't help the way you were being manipulated by two boys, a pair of vibrating underwear, and a remote control app.

The server made his way back again, bringing the bruschetta out on his way to greet another table that had just been sat in the section. You took another sip of your bellini, preparing for the night to be long and embarrassing.

Chris and Matt both indulged in the appetizer, obnoxiously licking the balsamic glaze from their fingers and making animalistic sounds while they made eye contact with you. They knew what they were doing, and it was working. Your mind wandered, imagining how they'd lick their digits clean after fingering you, much like Chris had earlier on during the ride to the restaurant.

"Naughty girl, keep your mind out of the gutter," Chris replied, sucking on his finger, smirking, and narrowing his eyes as if he was inside your head, and in a way, he was. You picked up your bellini glass with a shaky hand and took another big drink.

The waiter came back around to check out refills, and when he asked if you'd like another one, motioning towards your nearly empty glass, Matt turned the setting up another notch, and without thinking, you grabbed onto the waiter's arm, practically whimpering, "Yes please."

He gave you a confused look and gently tugged his arm away from you. "Sorry. She gets a little touchy when she's tipsy," Chris apologized for you, and the waiter brushed it off and walked away.

Matt and Chris both made fun of how you were unable to hold up any kind of facade, and they decided to cut you some slack for a bit, so you could enjoy your food when it came out. The waiter delivered your meals and another round of drinks for you all while you tried to catch your breath and dabbed the sweat from your face.

You were about half-way through your plate and halfway done with your second fruity, bubbly beverage before Chris took his phone back from his brother and started turning on the panties again. You looked at them both and all you could think about was how badly you wanted them to use all your holes when you guys got home, and a few needy whines passed through your pretty lips.

The waiter came back around to ask if you guys were enjoying your food, and all you could do in response was tell him, "It's sooo good," in a sultry voice while you peered up at him with desire in your eyes and bit down on your knuckles to suppress another moan. He gave you an inquisitive look and then looked toward the boys sitting across from you, asking if you guys wanted to order anything else after your meals.

"We'd love to all share the classic vanilla ice cream, please," Chris told the waiter, and then he smirked up at you, knowing how torturous it was going to be for you to hold it together through dessert, too. The server nodded and walked off to go update the bill.

You tried to finish your food and your drink while you tried to seem as put together as possible. Chris played with the settings again, bringing you as close to orgasm as he could before yanking it away from you and repeating this while you pathetically writhed in the booth across from him.

A few people who were sitting around you guys started to catch on. Some of them gave you disgusted looks and tried to ignore what you and the boys were doing. Some couldn't keep their eyes off you, hungrily looking you up and down as they silently prayed they'd get to watch you come undone in the restaurant.

The server returned with the ice cream and three spoons, and he bussed the dishes out of your way. Chris turned up the vibrating panties to the highest setting. "Have some ice cream, princess," Chris whispered, handing you a spoon.

Hell, you were already indulging in a form of public sex, indulging in good food and alcohol, and so you might as well complete the hedonist trifecta and indulge in sugar as well.

With a trembling hand, you grabbed the handle and got a small scoop of ice cream, and stuck it into your mouth. "Mmmm," you moaned, which was partially a response to the taste and partially a response to the frequencies buzzing against your sensitive cunt.

"I sure do love ice cream," Chris declared, getting a spoonful of it and making sure to suggestively lick his utensil clean while he looked in your eyes. "I love eating it and licking it up," Chris moaned, his eyes rolling back into his head, taunting you.

Matt followed, seductively lapping up the dessert. He looked directly at you while he dragged his tongue across the spoon in a long, slow lick.

As you imagined how their tongues would feel manipulating your pussy, your orgasm tore through you with incredible force. It took everything in you to conceal the reaction your body was having, and it was impossible to be completely subtle.

Your legs shook involuntarily as you held them crossed together tightly, and you grabbed onto the booth seat to anchor yourself while your climax crashed over you like a wave, eager to sweep you away in its current. You furrowed your brows, closed your eyes, and a few loud moans escaped your lips while your orgasm took its course.

When you opened your eyes, almost everyone around you was staring at you, including the waiter who had dropped off the check while you were in the midst of enjoying yourself.

"Let's go before someone calls the cops and reports us for public indecency," Chris smirked at you guys, tossing a few hundred dollar bills on the table, giving the server an extra big tip for having to put up with your guys' shenanigans, and the three of you fled the restaurant.

High on adrenaline, you guys piled into the car and peeled out of the parking lot.

"I hope you guys didn't like that restaurant too much, because I don't think we could ever go back. They'll probably put a picture up of our faces in the front like they do with dine and dashers," Matt chuckled from the driver's seat.

"More like dine and smash," Chris joked, and the three of you burst into hysterical laughter.

After the snickering died down, Chris let out a huge sigh and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling out his big, hard dick. Your jaw dropped, and your mouth widened as you watched it practically jump out of his pants.

He wrapped his arm around you and pushed your head down, lowering your mouth onto his cock and whispered in a demanding tone, "We're not done with you yet, whore. Don't just think that 'cause we're laughing, you're done receiving your punishment."

part two coming soon 💖

taglist: @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @munchingmini @butterbean-01 @coolasice01 @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @mattsfavbigtitties @new2024cats4life @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @karttpet @ssturnioloos @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @slxtformatt @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mynameisuser834 @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1

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luveline · 3 days

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hi! i hope you’re doing well! could i please request a little something about hotch coming home from a case to non bau!reader and jack watching star wars, just bonding and being cute. he wants to hug you both so bad cause he missed you and loves you but he doesn’t want to interrupt your moment

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

You drop your head back into the cushions to avoid getting whacked in the chin with Jack’s forehead. “Woah,” you say, laughing as a wave of buttery yellow popcorn kernels drop onto the floor. “Good thing we have hardwood.”

“Why?”

You grab a handful of popcorn to eat from the bowl. “‘Cos all I’ve done today is make a huge mess.”

Hotch smiles from the doorway. It’s dark in the house, and the music blaring from the television has occluded his arrival. You’ve no idea he’s watching you now, and you don’t act much differently than if his presence was announced. In fact, he’d say that sometimes you’re so focused on not overstepping your place in Jack's life that you restrain yourself.

Butter and comfort alike has loosened the reins. You cuddle Jack to your side, the two of you laying across the long sofa with a faux rabbit fur throw wrapped around your two bodies, his head nestled under your chin. Your arm is around his tummy, belting him to you while blue light flashes over your faces. Lightsabers paint your eyes, their zinging and humming near painful in his bad ear.

“Who’s side are we on again?” you tease. It’s subtle, but Hotch knows you’re joking.

“Oh my gosh,” Jack says, “you forgot again? That one,” —he points at the screen— “that’s Obi Wan Kenobi.”

“And we’re team Obi Wan?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Of course,” you echo, clearly finding him funny. “But the other one is more handsome, don’t you think?”

“Am I handsome?”

“Jack, you are the most handsome.” You stroke his hair back and encourage him to meet your eyes. “You’re so, so handsome, babe, you’re beautiful, and so smart, and so awesome. You’d wipe the floor with Obi Wan Kenobi.”

Jack manages a reproach through his bashful smile, “I wouldn’t fight him, he’s the good guy. I would fight him.”

“Hmm.” You grab some popcorn from the bowl in front of Jack and eat a few pieces, then offer it to Jack. “I wouldn’t fight him. He’s too pretty.”

“He’s evil.”

“He doesn’t look evil.”

Jack laughs and turns to you completely. “You’re funny. People don’t look evil, they just are sometimes.”

“I know, baby, I’m just confused because all the good people in my life are beautiful.” You hug him behind his shoulders, looking at him with all the love in the world. “You’re a great example. You’re handsome, so how am I supposed to know you might be evil?”

“You have to be careful,” Jack says sincerely.

“Baby, I am. I promise I am.” Your eyes squint closed with your gentle smile, your noses almost touching. “I’m just kidding with you. I love having jokes with you.”

“I love having jokes with you.” Jack gives you a quick hug, arms tight behind your head and his face nuzzling your collar. “Thanks.”

“Thanks! Oh, you’re welcome, you don’t have to say thanks!”

“Well…” Jack pulls away, shrugging as you manoeuvre him bodily into a more comfortable position beside you. “I just think you should fight Anakin because he’s not kind, even if you think he’s handsome.” He says handsome with all the intonation of a boy discovering cooties for the first time.

You shrug, eat another handful of popcorn, and seemingly see the light. “Alright, I’d fight him. I suppose I already have your dad, right? I don’t need any more handsome men in my life. Two is enough.”

“Yeah,” Hotch says, flicking on the light, “I’d say so.”

Jack jumps, upending another wave of popcorn onto the floor. You grab the bowl, and Jack has enough wits about him to hop over the spilled kernels rather than crush them as he presents himself to Hotch for hugging.

“Hi!” Jack says.

He’s getting longer. It takes Hotch more effort than it ever used to to pick him up and pat his back. “Hi, buddy. Nice jammies, those are new ones. Is Y/N giving you gifts again?”

“She always gives me gifts.”

“I’m buying your love,” you say, shielding your eyes from the glare of the big light.

“I love it,” Jack says.

Hotch puts him back down on the ground with a kiss. “You should. Did you have a good day? Sorry I was working, I missed our Saturday.”

“Dad, it’s okay, you always work. We went to the store and we got candy, and now we’re watching Star Wars and you’re back, so it’s okay.” Jack beams and puts his hands behind his back. “Will you watch it too?”

“Sure, buddy, I just have to wash up. Did you have dinner?”

“Y/N made me lasagna from scratch, even the pasta,” Jack says.

He sounds deeply, sincerely loved. His pride at having you put time and care into the meal is evident, and Hotch knows that he and Jack are incredibly lucky to have you and to have Jack be able to experience it. Something as nondescript as dinner can make all the difference.

You sit on the couch still, a touch bashful. “It didn’t take long.”

“Was it delicious?” Hotch asks Jack.

Jack nods hard enough to hurt his neck, head bobbing up and down. “The best!”

“Well, she deserves a good thank you, huh? For taking such good care of you today?” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “What should we do for her, in return? Did you have dessert?”

“No,” Jack whispers back.

Alright, then that’s what they’ll do. You treat Jack like he’s a found treasure, and you love Hotch as easily as breathing. Hotch takes Jack’s smaller hand in his and gives you a look that promises the world’s most squeezing hug after they’ve procured dessert. “Can you pause the movie, honey?” he asks you. “We’ll be right back.”

You shake your head at him, but your smile isn’t easy to hide. “Your dinner’s under the grill,” you say.

He adores you more, somehow. “Thank you.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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kdinjenzen · 1 day

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So with all the stuff going on around Nintendo Vs Pocketpair I feel like people are missing the point of what's going on.

And this article actually finally brings up the biggest point: Nintendo has 1000s of patents and chooses not to enforce them all on everyone.

The idea that, quoting the article and Serkan Toto, "Nintendo's sweeping list of patents means it likely "could have sued half of the gaming industry back in 2017," …so like WHY NOT DO THAT?

There's a million reasons to not do it for Nintendo but TLDR is it's just bad business for them to do so.

The real take away is -what has PocketPair/Palworld done- that has brought out Nintendo to start enforcing these things in this particular situation?

A lot if you pay attention to PocketPair/Palworld's marketing and social presence. They threw rocks at Nintendo, so Nintendo is finally pushing back.

Now I'm not going to fully go to bat for Nintendo and say "they are a good company" because there's no such thing truly…

But in most cases with Nintendo, they C&D folks multiple times before even thinking of escalating anything to real legal trouble. Which is kinder than most companies.

The final thought of the article says that Nintendo may feel "threatened" by PalWorld but… I don't buy it.

Pokemon is THE highest grossing franchise in the world… ever… of all time. It's total revenue is around $100 BILLION with a B.

PalWorld, even at it's height, didn't even come close.

The aspects that I think Nintendo decided to act upon in their mind for this is the brazen bold rudeness and shit talking that happened on social media/marketing with PocketPair/Palworld.

PLUS the fact that Pokemon fans were also quick to be like "bruh, even if this isn't stolen it's obviously design lifted" for a lot of Palworld's Pals.

Add in the fact that both Microsoft and now Sony have pulled PalWorld onto their platforms… Nintendo is going to notice and get mad.

The truth is that PocketPair is an indie dev… with major AAA studios behind it now in a lot of ways. Which actually hurts PocketPair in a sense.

Nintendo tends to ignore indie stuff and has actually collabed with many indie studios before in major ways, so they aren't anti-indie.

Nintendo is OLD SCHOOL and expects a little bit of respect.

Nintendo has not taken action against pretty much any of the other true new Tiny Critter Collecting Indie IP that have popped up, a lot of them are ON Nintendo platforms and have had Nintendo feature them in directs…

But PocketPair threw rocks. Nintendo easily saw this as disrespect, but could be ignored.

What CAN'T be is the outcry from their own fanbase to "look into things" with PalWorld to see what, if anything, was lifted from Nintendo directly.

And Nintendo did. They took over a year to look into it.

This isn't Nintendo doing a knee jerk reaction, they went over things and took their time to research what PalWorld and PocketPair were doing.

Nintendo isn't stupid. They don't pick fights for no reason.

Regardless of if you LIKE Nintendo, or your feelings on a big company taking on a little company… Nintendo is very likely on the right side of business, IP, and patent law here.

Nintendo -losing- here would be, actually, really bad for small folks more than big guys in the long run.

Adding in the fact that PocketPair launched a generative Ai art game on top of all that…

This feel like, yes, Nintendo is flexing in a lot of ways but… they chose who to flex on and not to flex on -everyone-… so there seems to be a solid reason as to -why-.

Again the real take away is that IF Nintendo could have sued half of the gaming industry (as of 2017) with all the patents they have … why didn't they and WHY are they choosing to sue PocketPair/Palworld -now-?

Because that's more important than anything else.

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tinystepsforward · 2 days

Text

autocrattic (more matt shenanigans, not tumblr this time)

I am almost definitely not the right person for this writeup, but I'm closer than most people on here, so here goes! This is all open-source tech drama, and I take my time laying out the context, but the short version is: Matt tried to extort another company, who immediately posted receipts, and now he's refusing to log off again. The long version is... long.

If you don't need software context, scroll down/find the "ok tony that's enough. tell me what's actually happening" heading, or just go read the pink sections. Or look at this PDF.

the background

So. Matt's original Good Idea was starting WordPress with fellow developer Mike Little in 2003, which is free and open-source software (FOSS) that was originally just for blogging, but now powers lots of websites that do other things. In particular, Automattic acquired WooCommerce a long time ago, which is free online store software you can run on WordPress.

FOSS is... interesting. It's a world that ultimately is powered by people who believe deeply that information and resources should be free, but often have massive blind spots (for example, Wikipedia's consistently had issues with bias, since no amount of "anyone can edit" will overcome systemic bias in terms of who has time to edit or is not going to be driven away by the existing contributor culture). As with anything else that people spend thousands of hours doing online, there's drama. As with anything else that's technically free but can be monetized, there are:

Heaps of companies and solo developers who profit off WordPress themes, plugins, hosting, and other services;

Conflicts between volunteer contributors and for-profit contributors;

Annoying founders who get way too much credit for everything the project has become.

the WordPress ecosystem

A project as heavily used as WordPress (some double-digit percentage of the Internet uses WP. I refuse to believe it's the 43% that Matt claims it is, but it's a pretty large chunk) can't survive just on the spare hours of volunteers, especially in an increasingly monetised world where its users demand functional software, are less and less tech or FOSS literate, and its contributors have no fucking time to build things for that userbase.

Matt runs Automattic, which is a privately-traded, for-profit company. The free software is run by the WordPress Foundation, which is technically completely separate (wordpress.org). The main products Automattic offers are WordPress-related: WordPress.com, a host which was designed to be beginner-friendly; Jetpack, a suite of plugins which extend WordPress in a whole bunch of ways that may or may not make sense as one big product; WooCommerce, which I've already mentioned. There's also WordPress VIP, which is the fancy bespoke five-digit-plus option for enterprise customers. And there's Tumblr, if Matt ever succeeds in putting it on WordPress. (Every Tumblr or WordPress dev I know thinks that's fucking ridiculous and impossible. Automattic's hiring for it anyway.)

Automattic devotes a chunk of its employees toward developing Core, which is what people in the WordPress space call WordPress.org, the free software. This is part of an initiative called Five for the Future — 5% of your company's profits off WordPress should go back into making the project better. Many other companies don't do this.

There are lots of other companies in the space. GoDaddy, for example, barely gives back in any way (and also sucks). WP Engine is the company this drama is about. They don't really contribute to Core. They offer relatively expensive WordPress hosting, as well as providing a series of other WordPress-related products like LocalWP (local site development software), Advanced Custom Fields (the easiest way to set up advanced taxonomies and other fields when making new types of posts. If you don't know what this means don't worry about it), etc.

Anyway. Lots of strong personalities. Lots of for-profit companies. Lots of them getting invested in, or bought by, private equity firms.

Matt being Matt, tech being tech

As was said repeatedly when Matt was flipping out about Tumblr, all of the stuff happening at Automattic is pretty normal tech company behaviour. Shit gets worse. People get less for their money. WordPress.com used to be a really good place for people starting out with a website who didn't need "real" WordPress — for $48 a year on the Personal plan, you had really limited features (no plugins or other customisable extensions), but you had a simple website with good SEO that was pretty secure, relatively easy to use, and 24-hour access to Happiness Engineers (HEs for short. Bad job title. This was my job) who could walk you through everything no matter how bad at tech you were. Then Personal plan users got moved from chat to emails only. Emails started being responded to by contractors who didn't know as much as HEs did and certainly didn't get paid half as well. Then came AI, and the mandate for HEs to try to upsell everyone things they didn't necessarily need. (This is the point at which I quit.)

But as was said then as well, most tech CEOs don't publicly get into this kind of shitfight with their users. They're horrid tyrants, but they don't do it this publicly.

ok tony that's enough. tell me what's actually happening

WordCamp US, one of the biggest WordPress industry events of the year, is the backdrop for all this. It just finished.

There are.... a lot of posts by Matt across multiple platforms because, as always, he can't log off. But here's the broad strokes.

Sep 17

Matt publishes a wanky blog post about companies that profit off open source without giving back. It targets a specific company, WP Engine.

Compare the Five For the Future pages from Automattic and WP Engine, two companies that are roughly the same size with revenue in the ballpark of half a billion. These pledges are just a proxy and aren’t perfectly accurate, but as I write this, Automattic has 3,786 hours per week (not even counting me!), and WP Engine has 47 hours. WP Engine has good people, some of whom are listed on that page, but the company is controlled by Silver Lake, a private equity firm with $102 billion in assets under management. Silver Lake doesn’t give a dang about your Open Source ideals. It just wants a return on capital. So it’s at this point that I ask everyone in the WordPress community to vote with your wallet. Who are you giving your money to? Someone who’s going to nourish the ecosystem, or someone who’s going to frack every bit of value out of it until it withers?

(It's worth noting here that Automattic is funded in part by BlackRock, who Wikipedia calls "the world's largest asset manager".)

Sep 20 (WCUS final day)

WP Engine puts out a blog post detailing their contributions to WordPress.

Matt devotes his keynote/closing speech to slamming WP Engine.

He also implies people inside WP Engine are sending him information.

For the people sending me stuff from inside companies, please do not do it on your work device. Use a personal phone, Signal with disappearing messages, etc. I have a bunch of journalists happy to connect you with as well. #wcus — Twitter I know private equity and investors can be brutal (read the book Barbarians at the Gate). Please let me know if any employee faces firing or retaliation for speaking up about their company's participation (or lack thereof) in WordPress. We'll make sure it's a big public deal and that you get support. — Tumblr

Matt also puts out an offer live at WordCamp US:

“If anyone of you gets in trouble for speaking up in favor of WordPress and/or open source, reach out to me. I’ll do my best to help you find a new job.” — source tweet, RTed by Matt

He also puts up a poll asking the community if WP Engine should be allowed back at WordCamps.

Sep 21

Matt writes a blog post on the WordPress.org blog (the official project blog!): WP Engine is not WordPress.

He opens this blog post by claiming his mom was confused and thought WP Engine was official.

The blog post goes on about how WP Engine disabled post revisions (which is a pretty normal thing to do when you need to free up some resources), therefore being not "real" WordPress. (As I said earlier, WordPress.com disables most features for Personal and Premium plans. Or whatever those plans are called, they've been renamed like 12 times in the last few years. But that's a different complaint.)

Sep 22: More bullshit on Twitter. Matt makes a Reddit post on r/Wordpress about WP Engine that promptly gets deleted. Writeups start to come out:

Search Engine Journal: WordPress Co-Founder Mullenweg Sparks Backlash

TechCrunch: Matt Mullenweg calls WP Engine a ‘cancer to WordPress’ and urges community to switch providers

Sep 23 onward

Okay, time zones mean I can't effectively sequence the rest of this.

Matt defends himself on Reddit, casually mentioning that WP Engine is now suing him.

Also here's a decent writeup from someone involved with the community that may be of interest.

WP Engine drops the full PDF of their cease and desist, which includes screenshots of Matt apparently threatening them via text.

Twitter link | Direct PDF link

This PDF includes some truly fucked texts where Matt appears to be trying to get WP Engine to pay him money unless they want him to tell his audience at WCUS that they're evil.

Matt, after saying he's been sued and can't talk about it, hosts a Twitter Space and talks about it for a couple hours.

He also continues to post on Reddit, Twitter, and on the Core contributor Slack.

Here's a comment where he says WP Engine could have avoided this by paying Automattic 8% of their revenue.

Another, 20 hours ago, where he says he's being downvoted by "trolls, probably WPE employees"

At some point, Matt updates the WordPress Foundation trademark policy. I am 90% sure this was him — it's not legalese and makes no fucking sense to single out WP Engine.

Old text: The abbreviation “WP” is not covered by the WordPress trademarks and you are free to use it in any way you see fit. New text: The abbreviation “WP” is not covered by the WordPress trademarks, but please don’t use it in a way that confuses people. For example, many people think WP Engine is “WordPress Engine” and officially associated with WordPress, which it’s not. They have never once even donated to the WordPress Foundation, despite making billions of revenue on top of WordPress.

Sep 25: Automattic puts up their own legal response.

anyway this fucking sucks

This is bigger than anything Matt's done before. I'm so worried about my friends who're still there. The internal ramifications have... been not great so far, including that Matt's naturally being extra gung-ho about "you're either for me or against me and if you're against me then don't bother working your two weeks".

Despite everything, I like WordPress. (If you dig into this, you'll see plenty of people commenting about blocks or Gutenberg or React other things they hate. Unlike many of the old FOSSheads, I actually also think Gutenberg/the block editor was a good idea, even if it was poorly implemented.)

I think that the original mission — to make it so anyone can spin up a website that's easy enough to use and blog with — is a good thing. I think, despite all the ways being part of FOSS communities since my early teens has led to all kinds of racist, homophobic and sexual harm for me and for many other people, that free and open-source software is important.

So many people were already burning out of the project. Matt has been doing this for so long that those with long memories can recite all the ways he's wrecked shit back a decade or more. Most of us are exhausted and need to make money to live. The world is worse than it ever was.

Social media sucks worse and worse, and this was a world in which people missed old webrings, old blogs, RSS readers, the world where you curated your own whimsical, unpaid corner of the Internet. I started actually actively using my own WordPress blog this year, and I've really enjoyed it.

And people don't want to deal with any of this.

The thing is, Matt's right about one thing: capital is ruining free open-source software. What he's wrong about is everything else: the idea that WordPress.com isn't enshittifying (or confusing) at a much higher rate than WP Engine, the idea that WP Engine or Silver Lake are the only big players in the field, the notion that he's part of the solution and not part of the problem.

But he's started a battle where there are no winners but the lawyers who get paid to duke it out, and all the volunteers who've survived this long in an ecosystem increasingly dominated by big money are giving up and leaving.

Anyway if you got this far, consider donating to someone on gazafunds.com. It'll take much less time than reading this did.

#tony muses #tumblr meta #again just bc that's my tag for all this #automattic #wordpress #this is probably really incoherent i apologise lmao #i may edit it

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dreamwritesimagines · 24 hours

Text

Sunshine [4] - Ray of Light

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: A ray of light shines through the clouds.

Word Count: 4242 (to everyone who might be wondering why every chapter is turning 4k+... it's the martini I mean it baby)

CW: Smoking cigars, explicit language, mentions of sex

Series Masterlist

Logan was no stranger to the feeling of restlessness.

For him, it was around every corner; impossible to get away from. Even now, having just returned from the latest mission Charles had sent him on, he couldn’t help but feel like a caged animal, desperate to get out.

He gritted his teeth, slamming the door open to enter his room before he unzipped his suit and took it off, tossing it to the corner of the room. After putting his jeans and white shirt on, he ran a hand through his hair and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. Scott and Jean were already there, perched on the stools while Storm sat on the kitchen island, busy with a file. Rogue was rummaging through the fridge and Bobby was making a sandwich on the counter, still in his suit.

“Do we still not have beer in this place?” Logan asked to no one in particular and Storm looked over her shoulder.

“This place hasn’t stopped being a school since the last time you asked, so no.”

“Great,” he murmured. “Soda it is.”

“It’ll be good for your health,” Rogue said with a grin, then tossed him a bottle which he caught mid-air. He extended his arm in Bobby’s direction without a word and Bobby touched the bottle, making it ice cold.

“Thanks,” he grumbled and pulled himself a seat.

“Why are you in a bad mood?” Storm asked with a curious look in her eyes. “The mission was a success.”

“Is it because that guy almost stabbed you?” Bobby asked, making him frown.

“He didn’t almost stab me,” Logan said as Rogue closed the fridge, nibbling on a slice of pizza.

“When people stab you, do you get annoyed?” Bobby asked and Logan raised his brows.

“More annoyed than right now? Nah, it’s about the same.”

“To repeat, why are you so—” Jean started but stopped talking mid-sentence, a smile pulling at her lips. “Ah. I see.”

“What?”

“We were supposed to come back from this mission around afternoon,” she said. “And it’s Monday.”

Shit.

“Jean, stay out of my head.”

Jean grinned at him. “Oh I’m not in your head. Don’t need to be.”

Scott looked between them. “Is this about Theo’s mom?”

The impact of the simple question was almost instant on the small crowd in the kitchen. Storm immediately put the file in her lap aside to look at him, Bobby stopped making his sandwich and looked up from the jar of peanut butter he had stuck the knife in, and Rogue’s jaw dropped.

Great.

“Wait, seriously?” Bobby asked. “You and her—”

“There’s nothing,” Logan cut him off, forcing himself not to let his thoughts drift to her. “Scott has no idea what he’s talking about as usual.”

“You’re just pissed off because you’ll have to wait until Friday to see her again.”

Logan scoffed. “That has nothing to do with the situation.”

“I think you two would make a cute couple,” Storm said and Jean nodded.

“Oh absolutely.”

“Stop it, both of you,” Logan said with a frown. “And for your information, I could see her whenever I want.”

“I don’t think they’d make a good couple to be honest,” Bobby interfered, “I mean don’t get me wrong but you’re…” he motioned at him, making Logan raise his brows. “You.”

“Nothing gets past your observation skills, does it?” Logan deadpanned while Rogue suppressed a laugh and took another bite of her pizza.

“Opposites attract is definitely a thing.”

Logan opened his mouth to retort, but was instantly distracted when he heard familiar footsteps coming closer to the kitchen, making him look over his shoulder. It wasn’t long until Theo appeared at the door in his pajamas, making Rogue let out an “aw!”.

“Hi Theo.”

“Hi Miss Rogue!” Theo gave them a happy smile. “And Mr. Logan and Miss Storm and Mr. Cyclops and Miss Jean and Mr. Ice Man!”

Even Logan had to admit, the kid was adorable. Theo pushed his glasses up, blinking up at them while holding a huge tin container to his chest as the small crowd in the kitchen greeted him back, making his smile bigger.

“Hi bub,” Logan said and Theo waved at him with one hand while still clutching to the tin with the other.

“What are you doing up at this hour Theo?” Storm asked and Theo looked down at the tin container, then up at them again.

“Um—” he said. “Do you know my friend Ralph?”

Bobby tilted his head. “The fish guy?”

“Yeah!” Theo nodded fervently before pushing his glasses up again. “So he told me his mom never baked him cookies, and—I didn’t know moms didn’t bake cookies because mine does whenever I feel bad, so I told my mom about that and um…yesterday she baked cookies for me to bring here,” he said, pressing his index finger on the tin as if to emphasize his point. “Everyone had one but you weren’t around, Professor X said you were busy, and I stayed up late so that you could have some cookies as well.”

She had baked cookies.

For the whole school.

Logan had to remind himself it was the middle of the night so he couldn’t in fact go all the way to her apartment to see her and kiss her and—

Focus.

He had to focus.

But for fuck’s sake, it was almost agonizing at this point. She was actually, genuinely nice, as if it wasn’t enough that he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful she was, how sweet she smelled, and just how much he wanted to—

Not going there, he forced himself to think. Focus.

Theo made his way to the kitchen island and stood up on his tiptoes to place the tin on the island, making Jean press a hand on her chest and Storm smile softly. Scott ruffled his hair, making him smile up at him.

“Thank you, Theo,” Jean said. “Please tell your mom we thank her as well.”

“Of course!” Theo said, his voice cheerful. “Good night!”

“Good night bub.”

“Good night Theo!”

“I’m so going to babysit when you two get together,” Rogue said through her teeth as if she was hanging by a thread while Bobby rushed to the container to open it the moment Theo left the kitchen. “I swear to God, Logan—”

“No, I agree with Bobby,” Scott said. “She’s too nice for him.”

Bobby pointed at Scott with the cookie he was holding while Logan flipped him and Storm grabbed two cookies, tossed one to Rogue and turned to Jean.

“I’ll fill Charles in about the mission, are you coming?”

“Sure,” she said and grabbed a cookie as well. “I’ll see you guys later.”

With that they both walked out of the kitchen, Storm talking about what an adorable kid Theo was before Bobby popped the cookie into his mouth, then let out a moan.

“Jesus this is too good!” he said. “No I’m serious Logan, she’s like actually pretty and nice and bakes cookies. When was the last time you did anything nice for us?”

“I saved your life like half an hour ago, dipshit,” Logan pointed out, making Rogue laugh. “And every word out of your mouth makes me think I should’ve sat that one out.”

Scott chuckled and took out a cookie out of the container, then nodded at Logan.

“Do you want to have one or do you want to go ring shopping—” he started but he was cut off when one of Bobby’s friends, Caleb, if Logan wasn’t mistaken, entered the kitchen.

“Storm said there were cookies?”

“Over there.” Bobby motioned at the kitchen island. “Theo’s mom made them.”

“Oh she's such a babe,” Caleb said as he reached out for the container, making Logan turn to him while Rogue made a face. “The things I’d do, seriously, the milf of my—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence when Logan grabbed his arm and slammed it to the counter while Rogue exclaimed “Ew, Caleb!” and Scott tilted his head.

“Logan,” he said, his voice completely calm. “We’re not slamming students to flat surfaces.”

Logan gritted his teeth, glaring at Caleb whose heartbeat got much faster, the unmistakable scent of fear lingering in the air.

“Caleb, right?” he growled. “Listen Caleb, the next time I hear you talk about her, or even look at her in any way,” He unsheathed his claws, causing Caleb to let out a whine. “I will rip your fucking tongue out. Do you understand?”

Caleb nodded fervently again and Logan clenched his jaw, then pulled his hand back and Bobby grabbed Caleb by his shirt.

“It’s his first time in public, that’s why he is like this,” he said helpfully, dragging him out of the kitchen. “You fucking dumbass….”

“Sure,” Scott said after a beat, turning to Logan. “There’s nothing going on between you and her.”

Logan sipped his soda. “Shut up.”

Scott held up his hands, mocking surrender.

“Just something to think about,” he said with a smirk. “I’m gonna go find Jean. Good night.”

“And I’m gonna find Bobby and smack Caleb,” Rogue said, pushing herself off the counter. “Good night Logan.”

“Good night kid,” Logan said as they both left the kitchen and he narrowed his eyes at the container on the kitchen island before making his way to it. He grabbed a cookie to bite into it, his eyes closing as the sweetness crumbled inside his mouth, making him let out a breath.

A scene flashed before his eyes, something out of a dream; him in a cabin in the woods with her in his arms. He buried his nose into her neck, inhaling her sweet scent into his lungs as he pressed her warm body against his, her heartbeat getting faster before he forced himself to open his eyes again, taking a deep breath.

“Keep it together,” he muttered to himself and popped the rest of the cookie into his mouth, then pushed himself off the counter and made his way upstairs.

Throughout the week, it was one mission after the other. He was beginning to think Charles was doing it on purpose, and when Friday finally arrived, as much as he hated to admit, he could barely focus on anything else.

“Come on, to the lake!” one of the boys said as he walked past them. “Ralph, where’s Theo?”

“Professor X wanted to see him, and I think he left already,” he heard the boy say. “Ugh, I was gonna show him this new fish in the lake! It’s huge!”

Left?

No, he was still around. Logan could hear his happy chatter with someone through the chatter of the crowd but her scent wasn’t anywhere near so he followed Theo’s voice downstairs, stepping out of the building before—

“Have a nice weekend Mr. Logan!”

Logan’s head whipped around as Theo waved at him, then looked up to the man beside him as he took off his backpack so that the man could take it from him. “Uncle Jamie, this is Mr. Logan!”

What the fuck?

“Who the hell are you?” Logan asked the brunette, making him frown at the apparent hostility in his voice, but he didn’t dwell on it.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m Jamie. I’m picking up the little guy today.”

“No you’re not,” Logan scoffed. “Do we even know who you are?”

“You don’t, but the school does,” Jamie said after a beat. “I appreciate the caution but his mother called Professor Xavier beforehand to let him know, so it’s okay.”

“Uncle Jamie, Mr. Logan helped mommy out with the car when it broke down, and he drove her home the other day, I heard mommy talk about it with auntie Julie!”

Jamie tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “…How helpful of him.”

“And Uncle Jamie is the hero who saved me when I was in mommy’s belly, Mr. Logan!” Theo introduced him, making Logan raise his brows.

“Is that right?”

“I was an intern, Theo was a premature birth.”

“And you do years long follow up with all your patients or is this one a special case?” Logan asked as a dry smile twitched Jamie’s mouth before he clicked his tongue.

“It is,” he said. “I could ask you the same question though. Do you drive every parent home, or is this one a special case?”

Okay no, he did not like this prick.

However, Theo was right there so he had to mind his language, for his sake.

“You know what Theo, I’m pretty sure I just heard your friends say they were going to the lake,” Logan said, making Theo’s eyes widen. “They were talking about this huge fish. Do you want to go with Uncle Jamie or do you want to stick around a little to see that fish?”

“Really?!”

“Go ahead,” Logan said. “Uncle Jamie will wait. Won’t you, bub?”

Theo didn’t even wait for Jamie’s answer as he darted for the yard, and Jamie gritted his teeth, shaking his head slightly.

“Unbelievable…” he muttered. “Are you even a teacher here?”

“Sometimes,” Logan said with a shrug of his shoulders and Jamie hummed, then took out his phone and touched the screen before taking it to his ear, waiting for the other line to pick up.

“Hi Jamie!”

It was almost funny, how her soft voice managed to put Logan in a better mood instantly but he tried not to think about it.

“Hi sunshine,” Jamie said, making Logan frown. “Listen, Theo wants to hang out with his friends a little more. Should I wait or…?”

“No no, you go back to the hospital,” she said. “I’ll leave in like an hour or so anyway. It’s a good thing that he’s socializing so um—just, let him.”

“You sure?”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “Thank you again Jamie, really.”

“No problem honey.”

“You can follow the way back,” Logan said, nodding in the direction of the gates when Jamie hung up and he heaved a sigh.

“I know your type, you know?”

“I doubt it.”

“No no, I do,” Jamie said, motioning at him. “This whole tough guy bullshit isn’t gonna impress her.”

A cocky smirk curled his lips. “What, are you threatened?”

Jamie scoffed a laugh.

“That’s not what this is,” he said. “It’s just that I’ve known you for five minutes and I can already tell she deserves better than you.”

That—

That was true actually. Even Logan knew that; hell, he had been trying to make himself understand that ever since he had met her, but no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t.

Knowing it wasn’t enough to make him stop thinking about her.

“Guess you and I have one thing in common then,” Logan stated. “But I seem to be making better progress in a month than you have in years, huh?”

Jamie shook his head.

“See you around,” he said before he walked away and Logan took a deep breath, then ran a hand through his hair.

“Asshole…” he muttered and made his way through the yard to keep an eye on Theo in case he got too close to the lake.

The strange thing wasn’t that he smelled her the minute she arrived.

It was what her scent did to him.

As soon as the familiar sweetness tickled his nostrils, his head snapped up and he looked around, then got up from the bench he was sitting on, painfully aware of his heartbeat getting faster. He strode through the yard, away from where Theo and his friends were running around and towards the gates, where her scent was stronger.

He couldn’t help but notice she didn’t smell like him.

Jamie.

He had no idea why he was getting so worked up on the existence of that asshole, but somehow that detail alone managed to soothe the hot jealousy running through his veins. He knew Jamie had a point, he had been saying the same thing to himself ever since he met her, yet it didn’t mean…

There she was.

He didn’t know how she managed to look everyone and everything else in shadows where she herself was the only thing illuminated as if she had her own ray of sunlight falling over her. The mere sight of her was enough to make him stare at her as she waved at him, her heart pacing in her chest as soon as her eyes fell on him, the pleasant sound nearly deafening in his ears—

No.

He had to focus.

Logan had seen wild animals in captivity before. How they would be straining at their leash, how they would be slamming against their cage, nearly blind with the desire to be let loose and lately, whenever she was around, she had the same effect on him.

“Hey stranger!” she said with a bright smile as she reached him. “Are you okay? You seem…tense.”

Shit.

“Me?” Logan asked. “Nah. Hi.”

Good string of sentences there.

“Hi,” she said, looking up at him. “Look at that, you’re here.”

Logan pulled his brows together. “I live here.”

“No no, I meant—” her heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening at the misunderstanding. “Right, of course you do. It’s just that, when I dropped Theo off on Monday you weren’t here, not that I noticed—disclaimer, I definitely did notice in case it has escaped your notice—but you know, I figured you were busy, and then Theo said…”

Alright, why did he find this cute?

Since when did he find things cute?

“And he must’ve seen someone’s suit or something because now he wants one, and I told him he can have one for Halloween but guess who didn’t think that through, because now I’ll have to tell Julie, she’s the arts and crafts person to go to in a situation like this. I’m just going to bribe her with cookies which is everyone’s favorite payment method I feel like …”

Don’t kiss her.

Do not kiss her.

A part of him wanted to go check with Charles to make sure he wasn’t fucking with his mind, to make sure she wasn’t a figment of his imagination because this wasn’t normal. Having her within his reach, all he could think about was pulling her closer, kissing her and taking her to his bed upstairs, to taste her until the only thing left in her mind was his name, her body trembling, her soft voice hoarse while she begged for—

“And I’ll stop talking now because you’re giving me that look again, do I have something on my face?”

Fuck.

She was looking up at him with a small frown pinching her brows together so he shook his head and said the first thing he could come up with:

“I tried the cookies.”

…Yeah no, Charles had to be fucking with his mind to make him this tongue tied.

“Did you?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you like it?” she asked, her heartbeat getting faster like she was nervous to hear the answer and Logan nodded his head.

“It was amazing,” he said, making her let out a breath, a happy light shining in her eyes.

“Really?”

“I’m serious,” Logan said, “The best cookie I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Aw, that’s wonderful!” she said, smiling wide. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone who doesn’t like chocolate chip cookies, so when Theo mentioned his friend I figured— do you know where he is by the way?”

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

“By the lake with his friends,” he said. “Come on, I’ll take you.”

“Finally in the welcoming tour committee huh?” she joked as she started walking beside him and he chuckled.

“Only for you.”

“Much appreciated,” she said. “I was gonna come earlier actually but there was this thing at work, it was a disaster.”

“What happened?”

“Well, the grill stopped working around the lunch hour,” she said. “They fixed it but waiting for food makes people very grumpy. There was this one customer, he…” she made a face, making him frown.

“What?”

“He was in a very bad mood but thankfully he calmed down when I gave him ice tea on the house.”

Logan shook his head slightly. “You should stop being so nice to people, princess.”

That seemed to make her heart skip a beat, causing a small smile to curl his lips while her hand shot up to her mouth for her to bite at her nail.

“In my defense, that’s not being nice, that’s just being in the service industry,” she mumbled. “Good thing it was fixed fast though.”

Logan hummed.

“So…” he trailed off. “Uncle Jamie then?”

“Oh, you’ve met him?”

“I was around,” Logan lied through his teeth. “When he came here.”

“Yeah, Theo adores him,” she said, nodding her head. “Jamie saved his life when he was an intern—fun fact, some doctors don’t take you seriously when you’re pregnant at 18 and completely clueless, so I knew something was wrong but he was the only one who believed me. He got chewed out by his supervisor but he ended up saving Theo’s life.”

Logan frowned, distracted from the Jamie issue for a moment.

“His father wasn’t there?”

“Nope,” she said with a bitter smile. “He was uh…busy.”

What the fuck?

“Do you know where he is now?” Logan asked, anger shooting through him and she let out a laugh.

“He’s in the past,” she said. “And he should stay there.”

He wanted to insist, he really did. The guy sounded like the type of asshole who really needed to get his ass beaten, but before he could ask, she had already changed the subject.

“But yeah, Jamie is amazing,” she said. “He’s very protective, he’s like the brother I never had.”

He bit back the pleased smile threatening to pull at his lips at the second part of that sentence and hummed.

“Yeah?” he said. “Does he know that?”

“Hm?”

“That he’s the brother you never had?”

She blinked up at him in confusion, her brows pinching together before a look of realization downed on her beautiful face, her heartbeat getting faster.

“He does,” she said, nodding her head. “So does his boyfriend.”

…Ah.

He had misunderstood the situation.

That had to be what Jamie meant when he had said “That’s not what this is,” he wasn’t trying to get with her, he was genuinely cautious about strangers such as himself. That whole exchange made sense now, considering the story about him saving Theo’s life; he had met her when she was alone, and had been trying to keep her and Theo safe ever since.

Of course.

“And he’s in a very happy relationship with him,” she added. “Unlike—you know, unlike me who’s not in a relationship at all, totally single. Not that you asked but it’s like…it’s like general trivia about me, and—whoa, today is a hot day isn’t it? Because honestly, it wasn’t this hot when I left the car—”

“Mom!”

“Oh thank God,” she muttered as she turned her head to look at Theo who was running at full speed to them and Logan bit back his grin as Theo reached them and flung himself into her arms.

“I missed you bean!” she said, hugging him tight and kissing the top of his hair. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah!” Theo said, his glasses slipping as he nodded fervently and she pushed them up again with a fond look on her face. The sight sent a warmth through Logan’s chest, a smile he didn’t even notice curling his lips. “We saw a big fish!”

“Really?” she gasped, her whole attention on him, hanging onto every word he said. “How big was it?”

“This big!” Theo spread his arms as wide as he could, making her smile widen.

“Whoa, that sounds big!” she said. “What color was it?”

She was too good at this. Even an outsider could see how excited Theo was to tell her everything, how genuinely happy he was to have her there and how attentive she was with him.

“Gray,” Theo answered. “Mom, maybe it’ll grow up to be a shark!”

Logan tilted his head and she exchanged glances with him as if telling him not to tell Theo it would not in fact grow up to be a shark, and Logan winked at her, making her giggle.

“Maybe,” she said, turning to Theo. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Theo said and she fixed his shirt, then took his backpack from him to swing it over her shoulder.

“Say goodbye to Logan.”

“Goodbye Mr. Logan!”

Logan ruffled his hair. “Have a great weekend bub.”

“I’ll see you around?” she asked and Logan couldn’t help but stare at her beautiful face before reminding himself to pull himself together.

“Yeah,” he said, trying to focus. “Don’t be too nice to people until then.”

Her smile widened and she heaved a sigh, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

“Don’t be too mean to people until then,” she replied and took Theo’s hand, walking away with him. He could hear her asking what else he had seen in the lake and Theo listing every single fish he had seen so he watched them until they were out of his line of sight, then let out a breath.

“Fuck…” he muttered, frowning to himself. “She’s beautiful, got it. Get your shit together.”

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan wolverine #logan x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #james howlett #logan howlett imagine #logan x you #james logan howlett

391 notes · View notes

sceletaflores · 3 days

Text

come on and show me a little bit of spine!

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader

wc: 5.5k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, drinking, smoking, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, public sex (alleyway hehe), biting, blood but not blood play, pain kink, scent kink, a special guest (!!!), jealous logan muahahaha, emotional constipation but like wtf is new, nat probably blatantly ignoring canon, probably ooc logan and friends sorry i'm just a girl, porn w/ plot (a little???), no use of y/n.

author’s note: HAHA BACK ON MY LOGAN BULLSHIT! who’s laughing? not me. i can’t stop writing for him it’s insane and selfish i know i know i’m sorry. bee tee dubs this is part two to all’s fair in love and viscera cus i couldn't get them out of my head so...kisses!

five x-men walk into a bar, only three walk out…

All men are the same. X-gene or no x-gene, they're all immature pigs.

You've come to find that it's more than just skin deep. If you took a knife to every man in this bar, you'd surely find the exact same little metaphorical mass of arrogance ingrained in every single one of them once all the layers are peeled back far enough.

And that's what Logan is, a man.

A stubborn, arrogant, mind-numbingly frustrating man who's convinced he could never be wrong just because he's had a little more time than normal to perfect the art of being completely insufferable.

No adamantium skeleton or foot long claws of death can change that.

You could set him on fire, drown him, watch him regenerate from a single cell, and nothing would change.

So, in hindsight, you really should have seen this coming.

It was Ororo's idea to go out, insisting the team needed it. A casual night at the bar across town to raise bravado after a few close call missions.

It sounded fun at the time, and for the first thirty minutes it was.

Getting to shed your hero skin for a few hours every so often is always nice, and you love your team. Love getting to just sit and live with them. You hardly get nights like this anymore, filled with playing pool and darts like people do.

That being said, you were reaching the top of your limit. Fast.

It started at the bartop, with Logan sauntering up next to you for the first time tonight.

He slid into the empty seat to your left, leaned against the bar casually, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. His lips tugged into that half-smirk he wore that night in the training room.

“You avoiding me?” he asks, voice low, bent down just enough to speak directly into your ear. "Haven't seen you all night."

You almost scoffed, almost turned to face him so he could see the look of irate disbelief on your face. Almost, but you didn't want to give him the extra attention.

"I could ask you the same thing."

You didn't miss how things had changed between the two of you after your night in the training room. Something shifted, and not in the romantic 'so...what are we now?' territory.

It shifted into Logan disappearing, closing himself off. He didn't go out of his way to avoid you, didn't even go as far as ignoring your existence entirely. He didn't need to, you knew it was different.

He refused to talk about it, refused to even acknowledge it, completely shutting you down the one time you tried bringing it up.

It stung. The feeling of rejection, especially after that night. You felt like you bared a part of your soul to Logan on that dark blue training mat. You swore you saw something different in his eyes too, a subtle shift, something that said this ran deeper than just a messy fuck between friends.

It played on your mind like a loop, every detail. You nitpicked almost every single thing you did, searched your mind for what you could have done that scared him off.

It has to be you, it always is.

It took a week to get over it. A week to wash away the feeling of Logan's hands on your body, of his lips on yours, of his cock carving a space for itself in your cunt, of his blood sliding down your throat and slicking the palms of your hands.

Eventually, that sadness gave way to self-reflection. Self-reflection gave way to anger, and now you're just plain pissed.

This has nothing to do with you.

Logan is a grown man, not a goddamn baby. He should know how to communicate by now, should take the stick out of his ass and drop the whole 'I'm no good for you baby' martyr cross he's carried around for over a century and talk to you.

But if he wants to be alone to sulk in self pity and sorrow for two hundred more years, you'll let him.

Logan's smirk falters, his expression falling with a heavy sigh. He leans back, one boot moving to rest on the rung of your stool. "You really want to do this here?"

"You came up to me," you shrug, finally turning to face him. The warm glow of the bar lights catch the edges of your frustration. "If you’re here to talk, then talk."

Logan doesn't respond, just meets your gaze with a raised brow. His eyes scan over your face slowly, taking in the pinch between your brows and the stern look in your eyes.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Scott's voice pierces through the tense air between you. His tone is casual in a way that's undermined by the smug smile turning the corner of his mouth up. It's too knowing, like he'd been listening in before.

Logan's brows pinch together in irritation the same way they always do when Scott talks, but he holds your gaze. His silence is infuriating because it's the same old routine—he just stares, brooding, like he’s waiting for the problem to magically solve itself without ever opening his damn mouth.

It makes your blood simmer just under the surface, the tips of your fingers burning with it.

You grind your teeth, balling your hands into fists where they sit on the bar. "Scott," you say, not breaking eye contact with Logan, "go play fetch or something."

Scott raises his hands in mock surrender, but you know he won’t leave without a parting shot. “Just looking out for you, you know. Can’t afford you two tearing each other apart over a little lovers spat before the night’s even over.”

As he saunters off, you turn your full attention back to Logan, who’s still studying you with that infuriating intensity. It’s as if he’s trying to decode some secret language written across your face.

You almost want to laugh at how predictable he is, how he thinks he can just sit there, unbothered, while you’re ready to explode.

“Are you really just going to sit there?” you challenge, leaning closer, daring him to respond. “You can’t keep dodging this forever, Logan. You think I’m the only one feeling this? We were both there that night."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think you see the flicker of vulnerability beneath the gruff exterior. But then it’s gone, replaced by that stubborn wall he always puts up.

“I don’t need to talk about it,” he mutters, his voice low, but there’s an edge of desperation that catches your attention. “What’s done is done.”

“‘What’s done is done’?” You can’t help the incredulous laugh that escapes you. “Is that your new catch phrase? They gonna start printing that on the front of your action figure's box?"

Logan's brows furrow deeper, his mouth turning down in a hard frown. "Watch it," he warns tersely, the edge of a snarl on his lips.

You lean forward, desperate to get anything out of him. "Or what?"

The bar buzzes around you, laughter and music blending into a distant hum, but all you can focus on is him—the way his eyes flare with that familiar spark of rebellion, how handsome he looks under the bar's dim lights, the way his smell is starting to warm your insides despite how mad you are.

You raise your brow, waiting, hoping. He stays silent.

That's it.

You stand abruptly, causing your stool to scrape against the floor loudly. Logan straightens, eyes narrowing as he watches you, but you’re more than done with all of this. You've had enough.

"I'm going for some air." you say evenly, slipping your jacket off the back of your chair. "Don't follow me."

You turn and walk away before Logan can answer, heading in the direction of the bar's alley door.

You try your best to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, the first tendrils of dread wrapping themselves around you tighter with every step. Your eyes burn embarrassingly each time you blink, but you refuse to cry.

You’re emotionally spiraling a couple feet from the door when someone suddenly steps in front of you, and you crash into them.

“So sorry, ma’am,” A familiar voice says from somewhere in front of you as two strong hands grip your waist to steady you. “Completely my fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

You crane your head up, eyes dragging from the blue gingham button down stretched over impressive muscle until they land on a pair of blue eyes and blonde head of hair you recognize.

“Steve?”

Steve Rogers smiles down at you, his hands still lightly resting on your waist. His expression is soft, apologetic, and a little surprised. Your name falls from his lips in a warm greeting, his hands lingering for a second longer before he drops them and takes a small step back.

“I’m surprised you still remember me. It’s been a while,” he says with the same boyish charm you remember, like he hadn’t just watched you nearly barge through the door like it owed you money. “How’ve you been?”

You blink up at Steve, the frustration from your situation with Logan still fresh, swirling through your system like a storm.

How’ve you been?

What a loaded question.

“Better,” you answer with a tight smile, barely convincing yourself. “Just tired. We’ve been so busy recently, you know how it is.”

Steve gives you a searching look, his eyes skimming your face with the kind of care that makes you want to shrink into yourself. His brow furrows slightly, concern flickering in those crystal-clear eyes of his as he studies your face.

"Are you okay?" he asks, genuinely, like he’s already picked up on the fact that something’s off.

How could you forget, he’s got the emotional radar of a saint. Lucky you.

"Yeah, sure," you lie, adjusting your jacket and pointedly avoiding the obvious upset that’s probably plastered across your face. You force a smile, hoping he buys it. "Just needed some air. This place is packed."

The furrow of Steve’s brows deepen, his lips pressing into a thin line like he doesn’t believe you. You feel worse under the intense pressure of his knowing stare, like a bug trapped under a magnifying glass.

You’re about to say something—anything—to fill the awkward silence, but then you feel it. That heavy, unmistakable presence at your back.

Of course he didn’t listen.

Steve’s eyes flick over your shoulder, and you don’t even have to turn around to know Logan’s right there, brooding like a dark cloud about to burst. You can practically feel the tension rolling off him in waves as one strong arm slides underneath the thick denim of your jacket and around your waist.

“Cap,” Logan’s clipped voice greets from somewhere behind you, laced with barely concealed irritation as his fingers dig into the cotton of your shirt, staking some sort of unspoken claim.

Steve gives Logan a respectful nod, though his expression remains calm, measured, the same quiet authority he always carries. “Logan,” he greets, smile faltering for the second it takes him to drop his eyes to Logan’s arm. “Nice to see you doing well.”

Logan hums noncommittally, you feel the rumble of it against your back. “Didn’t think this was your scene,” he says to Steve, brow cocked in suspicion.

Steve shakes his head, a small laugh falling from his lips. “It’s not, usually. I got strong armed into joining a few friends.”

“Right,” Logan replies, tone flat like Steve would have a reason to lie.

You can almost see the tension thickening in the air, an electric pulse that shoots straight through you. Logan’s grip tightens subtly, an instinctive reaction to Steve’s presence, but you can feel the subtle heat rising, the way your heart races under his touch despite yourself.

It’s infuriating, and for a second, you’re tempted to dive right into it, to unearth the chaos lurking beneath that chiseled exterior. But then you remember where you are, why you walked away from Logan in the first place—how public it is, how many eyes are on you.

“Steve and I worked together, a base infiltration in Albany a few years ago.” You cut in, shooting Logan a look over your shoulder, like a sharp glare alone could get him to calm down, if only for a second. But he just meets your gaze with that familiar stubbornness, eyes dark and unyielding.

It’s infuriating, and for a moment, you’re tempted to dive right into it, to unearth the chaos lurking beneath that chiseled exterior. But then you remember where you are—how public it is, how many eyes are on you.

“Feels like a lifetime ago,” Steve says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

And it does.

You think of Kevlar squeezed around your ribs, of explosions and buildings falling and the smell of gunpowder.

"Yeah, it does," you reply, ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach and forcing a smile.

“God, you look…” His gaze rakes over you like he can’t help it, the bright blue of his eyes trailing from your face down your legs and back up all over again. You can feel Logan bristle next to you.

”You look amazing,” Steve finishes with a small shake of his head, million dollar smile still pulling up the corners of his mouth. “Buy you a drink?”

“We were just leavin’, Cap,” Logan cuts in tersely, his arm tightening around your waist even more. His grip is possessive, but it’s not affectionate—it’s an unsaid challenge, a warning. “Calling it an early night.”

You whip your head around, confusion evident on your face. "We?" you parrot back, the word hanging in the air like a challenge of its own. “We haven’t decided anything.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, that familiar stubbornness rearing its head again. His hand splays flat over the span of your lower back, pushing just enough for you to feel the power behind it but not enough to really move you. “Let’s go.”

You look at Steve, then Logan, then the crowded bar, then the door to the alley, and repeat.

It should be an easy answer, an easy way out of going in circles with Logan even more than you already have.

But you find yourself stuck, feet rooted to the floor as your mind races with a hundred different thoughts in the span of a second.

Your lips part, and you’re not even sure what you’re going to say, when Steve beats you to the punch.

"She can decide for herself," he says evenly, though there's a subtle shift in his tone. It’s calm, but there’s a steely edge to it, like a well-honed blade concealed beneath all the politeness. He’s still smiling, but it’s less soft now, more hardened around the edges.

Logan’s grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging in like he's daring Steve to push the envelope any further. “Yeah? Don’t think she needs you speakin’ for her, either.”

"Enough," you snap, stepping out of Logan’s hold with a sharp turn, your voice cutting through the growing storm between them. You turn to him with a hard look, brows pinched in anger. "Fine, let's go."

Your smile feels strained, the edges sharp and jagged as you face Steve, the weight of Logan’s presence at your back heavy and suffocating. “It was great seeing you, Steve. Really.”

Your voice sounds strained even to your own ears.

“We’ll have to catch up some other time,” you add, though the words taste bittersweet on your tongue.

You can tell he wants to say something, his smile completely dropping as his eyes flit between you and Logan a few times. You give him a pleading look, a reassuring nod that you’ve got this.

Steve hesitates, you can see the gears turning in his mind, weighing the situation and trying to gauge the tension in the air. But ultimately, he nods, offering you one last smile that’s laced with concern.

“Absolutely,” he says, his voice warm despite the tension hanging in the air. “I’d love to. Just let me know when.”

With one last nod to Logan, he turns and walks away to meld into the crowd until you can’t make out the blue of his shirt anymore.

You don’t turn to Logan as you finally walk out the door. The clunk of his boots follow you the whole way out.

As soon as you’re outside, all the anger sets in at once, burning hot in your stomach as you spin around to face him. The fresh air hits your face like a slap, cool and bracing, but it does nothing to quell the fire simmering inside you.

"You really can't leave well enough alone, can you?" You snap, folding your arms defensively. “You just had to go and stake your territory?”

Logan’s face hardens, his eyes dark under the dim streetlight. “What do you expect me to do? Let you walk away and get buttered up Rogers while I sit at the bar with my dick in my hand?”

“Steve wasn’t doing anything!” You exclaim, frustration seeping into your every word. “He was just being nice, we’re friends.”

Logan lets out a disbelieving snort, shaking his head hard enough that his hair sways with it. “Nothin’ about that was friendly, kid. You’d have to be fuckin’ blind to not see that.”

You huff, turning your eyes to the sky in exasperation. “Why do you care?” you fire back, heart racing at the challenge. “We’re not together! You’ve made that more than clear!”

Now that the seal is broken, it’s like you can’t stop. Words fall out of your mouth faster than your mind can keep up, all the pent up frustration you’ve felt over the past few weeks boiling over.

“You’re the one that’s acting like nothing happened!” You throw your hands up in exasperation, your voice rising with every word. “You’re the one who disappeared, who’s been avoiding this whole thing like it didn’t mean anything!”

He growls, stepping closer, his presence looming. "You think I don’t know that, kid? You think I haven’t been dealing with this shit—with us?"

"Well, you sure as hell don’t act like it! You don’t talk about it. You don’t even try! You just stand there and expect me to what? Read your mind?”

For a split second, Logan’s expression falters, his shoulders stiffening as if your words struck a nerve. But just as quickly, the mask falls back into place. "I’m no good for you, kid. And you know it. I’m doing you a favor."

"There it is again!" You bark out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "The martyr complex. You’ve been alive for over a century, Logan. You’ve got time on your side, and you still can’t figure out how to be a decent human being in a relationship?”

He flinches slightly, but his eyes remain locked on yours, anger and frustration swirling behind them. "It’s not that simple."

“Of course it is!" You step forward, closing the gap between you. "You just don’t want to do the hard work. You don’t want to open up, to be vulnerable, because then you’d actually have to face yourself. And God forbid Wolverine confronts something he can’t claw his way out of.”

Logan’s jaw clenches, his eyes blazing, and for a long beat, the two of you stand in a tense, electrified silence. The world around you seems to fall away—no bar, no missions, no X-Men—just the two of you, standing in the alley, raw and exposed.

You don’t know who moves first, you or Logan, before you can register it, the distance between you disappears, swallowed by the pull of all that unresolved tension.

His lips claim yours, fierce and urgent, as if this was the only language he’s fluent in—raw emotion, violent passion. His hands find your waist again, gripping tight, pulling you flush against him.

The kiss is messy, desperate, a collision of teeth and tongues, but it’s exactly what you expected. It’s how you and Logan have always been—no finesse, just fire and stubborn intensity. It’s the only way he knows how to communicate, the only way he can let go, even for a second.

Your hands slide up into his hair, yanking roughly as a guttural growl vibrates from his chest into your mouth. You feel the heat of his skin, the coiled tension in his muscles, and it ignites something wild inside you.

The anger hasn’t left—it’s just morphed into something darker, something hungrier.

The kiss is nothing like the ones from that night in the training room. This one is full of anger and frustration, all the emotions that have been simmering between you two finally bubbling over in an explosive release. His lips are hard, demanding, and the taste of whiskey lingers faintly on his breath, mixing with the metallic scent of the alley.

You push back just as fiercely, your hands tangled in his hair as you try to pour all of your hurt, your confusion, and your pent-up rage into that single kiss. For a moment, it’s all- consuming—hot, reckless, like trying to catch fire in your hands.

“You’re such a fuckin’ punk,” he grates against your lips, kneading the meat of your hips roughly like he’s trying to anchor himself to you. His teeth scrape your bottom lip, his growl vibrating through you like a warning shot, but it only spurs you on.

"You’re one to talk,” you bite back, the heat between you both as volatile as ever.

You drop your hands to his chest, gripping the leather of his jacket in your fists and yanking him closer until there's no space left, until it's hard to tell where the anger ends and the need begins.

Logan growls, the sound reverberating deep in his chest, as his hands move up your back, possessive and rough. “You keep pushin' me, kid. You really wanna see how far I’ll go?"

"Maybe I do," you shoot back, biting down lightly on his lower lip. You taste the blood—his blood—and something primal stirs in you. His healing factor kicks in almost instantly, but the heat between you spikes with the sharp tang of it. It always does.

Logan hisses sharply, tongue swiping over the blood still dotted along his lip before he’s pushing you backwards.

You have no choice but to move with him, blindly stumbling back a few steps until your shoulders hit the wall of the bar. His lips attached to your neck the whole way, teeth nipping at the rapid flutter of your pulse.

It’s like a wildfire spreading between you, all heat and destruction, and the alley around you seems to fade into the background, leaving nothing but the chaotic mess of you and Logan.

You consider the risks of fucking Logan in an alleyway for all of two seconds, every single warning bell in your mind going silent when his hands tighten their hold on your hips to spin your around, pushing you up against the brick roughly.

“Fine,” he concedes, yanking the fabric of your skirt up hard enough you hear a tiny rip. “I’ll give you what you want, princess.”

The sound of his zipper being tugged down might as well be a gunshot with how loudly it reverberates through your mind. Your thighs slide together slickly, aching cunt clenching in anticipation.

The soft sound of Logan pushing his jeans down is the only warning you get before the thick head of his cock is sliding over the wetness staining the fabric of your panties.

“This what you wanted?” he asks, hooking his fingers into the lace to tug it aside and slip the length of himself through your slick folds. “You need a cock in your hungry pussy to feel better?” He lines himself up with your fluttering entrance, pushing gently until the very tip slips in.

Your lips fall open, brow furrowing as he starts feeding you his length one infuriating inch at a time.

Anger still warms your gut, but you find yourself nodding wordlessly. Tiny, desperate sounds escaping your throat the deeper he sinks in.

The stretch of him is almost too much, like he’s splitting you in two. It’s the kind of sting that just barely toes the line of pain and pleasure in the best way. It has you crying out when he finally bottoms out, pressing your forehead against the brick to try and ground yourself.

Logan’s considerate enough to keep still, thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the skin of your hips as you adjust.

“God,” you groan, shifting your hips enough to feel the way his cock rubs along your walls. The burn starts to melt away into pure pleasure with every grind.

“That’s it, baby,” Logan goads, hands still planted on your hips as you start to bounce on his cock in earnest. “Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”

His words just spur you on, a high whine falling from your lips as you set a steady rhythm. The slap of skin on skin getting louder, echoing around you lewdly.

“Mm, feels good huh?” he hums, pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder.

You barely choke out a garbled ‘yes’, thighs starting to shake with the effort of thrusting yourself back.

“Sorry,” he says, gripping the meat of your hips to pull you back against his cock roughly. “What was that?”

“Yes!” you mewl, cheeks burning. The anger steadily drains from your body the closer you get to come, until it's an afterthought just present enough in your mind to still matter. “Feels so good, please Logan…”

Logan groans under his breath, pulling his hips back back back until he’s reaming forward. He thrusts once, twice, three times before he’s taking over. Big hands anchored to your hips to drag you back on every snap of his hips.

Your entire body lights up, the pathetic noises passing through slack your lips barely register over the white noise rushing through your ears. Logan’s fucking you like he wants to break you, heavy hips pounding into the meat of your ass like an animal. The slap of it stinging your skin only for him to pull out and leave you empty before filling you again.

You go pliant in his grip, a high moan escaping you as he expertly hits that spongy spot inside of you that has heat pooling in your gut.

“God, I missed this,” he admits into your hair, one hand sliding around to press against your lower stomach. Logan’s hand is massive and blisteringly hot over your skin, cupping and feeling where he punches up into you with every thrust from the outside.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, pressing his forehead to your back desperately. “Do you feel that? Feel how deep I am inside of you? Gonna fuckin’ fill you up, stuff you so full you’ll be leaking for weeks.”

“Logan,” you gasp, heat coiling in your belly.

“I know,” he breathes, hips speeding up impossibly faster. “I got you, honey.”

You turn your head, the skin of your cheek scraping over the rough bring with every hard snap of his hips. The thick muscle of his forearm fills your eye line, strong and tan where it cages you to the bar. You swear you can see the blood pumping through his veins. Your stomach jerks with need, your mind buzzing.

Without thinking, you lean forward and bury your teeth in the muscle there. The coppery tang of blood on your tongue sends you reeling, a deep groan rumbling through your chest.

“Fuck!” Logan exclaims, giving one last thrust before he’s burying himself as far as he can. His cock throbs, pulsing as he unloads inside you. Rope after rope of come paints the shaking walls of your cunt, slicking the thrust of his that much more.

Pleasure goes off in sparks all up your spine, lighting up every vertebrae until the fireworks go off in your brain. Your hands claw at the wall desperately, eyes screwing shut as you fly over the edge.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you come, hands digging into the brick hard enough that it cracks and crumbles beneath them, falling to your feet in little rock’s.

Everything around you fizzles out into nothing, just a dull hum cocooning you in this moment, and for just a second it’s like you're floating.

The heave of Logan’s chest against your back and his lips on your neck only add to that far away feeling, nice enough that has you leaning into the warmth of his body.

A car horn blaring somewhere in the distance jerks you out of any warm, fuzzy feelings and deposits you back in the real world. Your eyes refocus on the building in front of you, and a displeased groan rips from your chest.

“I made a mess,” you murmur quietly, looking at the two matching dents in the bar's wall and the same red powder staining your hands.

Logan huffs into the sweaty skin of your neck, an amused noise. “That’s alright,” he says, barely out of breath. He pulls out just enough to let his come start leaking out around his dick, sliding down the length of him in thick rivers of white. “So I did.”

You scoff, shaking your head in disgust as he steps away with a snort. Your voice is breathy and small when you speak, “You’re disgusting.”

It's quiet for a long time, both you and Logan dressing yourselves in silence. The thrum of traffic around you mixed with the muffled music bleeding through the wall is the only noise filling the space.

You drag your eyes to him, watching as he yanks up his jean’s zipper while you smooth your skirt down.

“I told you not to follow me. When we were back inside,” you say, voice steadier than before but just as breathless.

Logan meets your eyes, and there’s a pause. For a second, you think maybe he’ll turn around and leave, run away to try and forget this too. Instead, you hear his boots scrape against the gravel as he steps closer.

"I don't take orders well, remember?" His voice is gravelly, like he’s chewing on the words before spitting them out.

"Obviously," you huff under your breath, a humorless laugh shaking your shoulders slightly.

Logan’s lips quirk into a tiny, almost imperceptible smile, but it fades just as quickly.

He takes another step closer, close enough now that you can feel the warmth radiating off him again, his presence as heavy as ever. But this time, there’s something different.

He looks drained. Not physically, but emotionally. Worn down in a way you’ve never seen.

“I’m not good at this,” he admits quietly, his voice tired. “You know that.”

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck in that rare, almost vulnerable way he does when he’s out of his element. Finally, he meets your gaze.

“I’m…" he trails off, mouth pulling into a wince like it physically pains him to apologize. "I’m sorry…”

“Wow,” you say slowly, head tilting to the side as you study him. “That was the worst apology I’ve ever gotten.”

Logan narrows his eyes at you, a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement flickering across his face. “You gonna let me talk?” he asks curtly, but there’s no real bite to it.

You sigh, nodding your head for him to continue.

He shifts his weight, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. “I know I’ve been a stubborn ass. I’m used to keeping everyone at arm’s length. It’s safer that way. I’ve lost too many people to just let someone in without a fight.”

His voice drops, laced with a vulnerability you rarely see. “I thought if I just stayed away, it would make things easier for you. I’m not relationship material, kid. I can’t be that guy for you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

He shakes his head, his shoulders slumping in more as he talks. “I’m a damn mess, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I do. A lot. It just scares the hell out of me.”

For a moment, you’re unsure how to respond. Part of you wants to lash out more, to keep the anger burning because it feels safer than the vulnerability you’re feeling now.

On the other hand, for the first time tonight, you see the man behind the adamantium, behind the claws and the gruff exterior. The man behind the Wolverine.

You only see Logan, who’s lived through centuries of loss and pain, who’s learned to build walls so thick even he can’t break through them sometimes.

And damn it, you hate how much you still care. You hate that, even after everything, Logan is the one person who can make you feel like this—angry, frustrated, and vulnerable all at once. But you can’t deny the truth any longer.

Because underneath all the anger and hurt, there’s still that spark. That stupid, stubborn spark that refuses to go out.

You take a step closer, your hand gently reaching for his. “You don’t have to be anything, Logan. You just have to try. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He nods, a slow, deliberate movement. Taking a slow set closer to you, he takes your cheek in his hand. The bright red rawness of your skin is slowly draining, tiny cuts knitting themselves together. “I can do that.”

He slides his thumb across your cheekbone and somehow, you believe him.

It’s not perfect. It’s not a promise that everything’s going to magically be okay. But it’s a start.

Maybe that’s enough.

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urdreamydoodles · 2 days

Note

Hello!!! I just found your page and yes I already I love your work!!

If it’s no trouble, may I ask for X-men characters with a Pregnant s/o headcanons? Like how they would be when you tell them you’re pregnant, how they are when you’re pregnant, and how they’d be during labor! 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Could I also ask it be with: Logan, Scott, Gambit, Ororo, Colossus, and Kurt??

If not it’s totally okay! Have a great rest of your day 💖💖

X-Men x Pregnant!Reader

How they handle your pregnancy

Each X-Man reacts differently to your pregnancy, from initial surprise and joy to unwavering support during labor, reflecting their unique personalities and love for you.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe, Kurt Wagner, Colossus (+ my personal addition : Erik Lehnsherr, Wade Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Pietro Maximoff)

Thank you for saying that, hearing that my work is liked makes me really happy, thank you ♡ And it's not a trouble at all — love the prompt! — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

When you tell Logan you’re pregnant, his initial reaction is a mix of shock and silence. For a moment, he’s frozen in place, his gruff exterior cracking just enough to reveal how truly taken aback he is by the news. He’s been through so much, lost so many people, and had so many regrets in his life that the thought of bringing a child into this world overwhelms him. But after a long, quiet moment, his eyes soften, and he gently places a hand on your stomach, the roughness of his calloused palm contrasting with the tenderness in his gesture. His voice, usually gruff and low, is quiet when he says, "I’ll protect both of ya… no matter what."

During your pregnancy, Logan becomes fiercely protective. He’s always been the protective type, but now it’s ramped up to an entirely different level. He doesn’t let you do anything that might risk your health or the baby’s, even if it’s something small like lifting a grocery bag. He makes sure you’re comfortable, constantly checking in with you—though he tries to act like he’s not worried. You often catch him watching you, eyes filled with a mix of awe and uncertainty. He tries not to hover, but you can see how much he cares. The moment you’re uncomfortable, he’s there, ready to do anything to help. His biggest fear, though he never outright says it, is that something will happen to you or the baby, so he keeps an almost obsessive eye on both of your well-being.

When labor begins, Logan is a mess of emotions. He’s usually the calm in any storm, but seeing you in pain makes him feel helpless in a way he’s not used to. He holds your hand, trying to keep you calm, though his own heart races. "I’m here, darlin’. You’re strong. You got this," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your forehead, staying close, trying to mask his own panic. When the baby finally comes, and he hears that first cry, tears fill his eyes. He never thought he could experience something so beautiful and terrifying at the same time. Logan would quietly hold the baby, marveling at the tiny life you both created, knowing he’s going to protect this child with everything he has.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

Telling Remy you’re pregnant is like lighting a firework. He’s always been a charmer, quick with a grin and a flirtatious quip, but when the news sinks in, his eyes light up with uncontainable excitement. "Mon dieu… I gon’ be a papa?" he says in disbelief, his signature grin widening as he pulls you into his arms. His hands immediately find your stomach, even if there’s no sign of the baby yet, and he plants a loving kiss on your lips. Remy is the kind of man who loves with his whole heart, and now, the idea of a family with you makes him feel like the luckiest man alive.

Throughout the pregnancy, Remy is absolutely doting. He spoils you beyond belief, making sure you have everything you need. He constantly brings you little gifts—flowers, chocolates, or even things for the baby—and he can’t help but talk to your belly every chance he gets, whispering sweet nothings in French. "Cher bébé, you gon’ have de best life wit’ us," he coos. He’s also incredibly playful, making jokes to keep your spirits high during the more uncomfortable parts of the pregnancy. If you’re feeling tired or sick, he’s quick to comfort you, but he does it with his usual playful charm. "You look beautiful, ma chérie, even wit’ a lil’ bump," he teases, kissing your cheek. Remy’s energy makes the whole experience feel lighter, more fun, and less daunting.

During labor, Remy’s usual calm and collected demeanor falters. He’s still his charming self, but there’s a frantic edge to his words as he holds your hand. "You okay, chérie? I’m right here wit’ you," he reassures, though you can see the worry in his eyes. He’s not used to seeing you in pain, and it shakes him more than he thought it would. As the labor progresses, he stays by your side, whispering sweet encouragements in French and English, never letting go of your hand. When the baby finally arrives, he’s completely overwhelmed, tears of joy running down his face as he holds your child for the first time. "Our lil’ miracle," he says softly, his heart full to bursting with love for both you and the baby.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

When you tell Scott you’re pregnant, he’s stunned, standing still for a long moment as he processes the news. Scott, being the logical and responsible leader he is, has always thought about the future and the possibility of a family, but hearing it from you makes it real in a way that both excites and terrifies him. "We’re… we’re going to be parents?" he asks, his voice soft with disbelief before his arms wrap around you tightly. You can see the joy in his face, mixed with the weight of responsibility that’s already setting in. He’s already planning everything in his mind—how he’ll protect you, the future he’ll build for the three of you, ensuring that you and the baby are always safe.

Throughout your pregnancy, Scott is incredibly attentive and thoughtful. He’s the type to read all the parenting books, meticulously prepare for every scenario, and ensure that you’re comfortable and healthy at all times. He schedules every doctor’s appointment, makes sure you’re eating well, and insists that you take things easy. He’s also incredibly emotional during this time, though he tries to hide it. You often catch him looking at you with a softness in his eyes, one hand resting protectively on your stomach. "I love you so much," he says out of the blue one night, his voice filled with quiet awe. Scott takes everything seriously, and your pregnancy is no exception—he’s already planning how to be the best father he can be.

When the day of labor arrives, Scott is calm and composed, but you can feel the tension rolling off him in waves. He’s a natural leader, but this is out of his control, and it scares him more than he’ll admit. He holds your hand the entire time, murmuring words of encouragement, but there’s a tightness in his voice that betrays his worry. "You’re doing great, we’re almost there," he says, though you can tell he’s just as nervous as you are. When the baby is born, Scott is overcome with emotion. He’s usually so controlled, but in this moment, tears stream down his face as he holds your newborn in his arms. "We did it," he whispers, looking between you and the baby with a sense of awe and love so profound it leaves him speechless.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

When you tell Ororo you’re pregnant, her reaction is calm yet filled with quiet joy. She has always been a steady presence, and that doesn’t change even in a moment as life-altering as this. You watch as her eyes widen slightly, and she takes a deep breath, letting it out with a smile that’s filled with nothing but love. "A child," she says softly, as if testing the words out on her lips before she steps closer, pulling you into a tender embrace. She kisses your forehead, her fingers gently brushing your stomach. "We will raise them together with the strength of the earth, the wind, and the skies," she whispers, her voice filled with a quiet reverence for this new journey you’re about to embark on together.

During the pregnancy, Ororo is a pillar of strength and grace. She watches over you with care, making sure you feel supported and at peace throughout. Her connection to nature allows her to sense even the smallest changes in your well-being, and she’s quick to help ease any discomfort you feel. She spends hours talking to your growing belly, whispering stories of the world, of the sky, and the beauty of the elements. Her presence is soothing, and she brings you peace in moments where the discomforts of pregnancy are hardest to bear. At night, she holds you close, her hands resting protectively on your stomach, often saying a quiet prayer to the earth for your safety. "You and our child are my heart," she says softly one evening as you drift off to sleep, her love for you as powerful as the storms she commands.

When the time comes for labor, Ororo is a calming force by your side. Even as the pain begins, she stays with you, her hand in yours, reminding you to breathe, to focus on the world around you. "Feel the wind, my love, let it guide you," she murmurs, her voice steady as she helps you through each contraction. You find yourself drawing strength from her presence, her deep connection to the elements grounding you. When the baby finally arrives, she cradles the tiny life in her arms with such tenderness that it brings tears to your eyes. "Welcome to the world, little one," she whispers, her eyes filled with awe and love. Ororo knows this is a moment of great power, not just in the birth of your child, but in the creation of a family bound by love and strength.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

When you tell Kurt you’re pregnant, his first reaction is pure, unfiltered joy. His golden eyes light up, and in an instant, he’s pulling you into a tight embrace, his tail curling around you protectively. "Mein Gott! You are serious, ja?" he asks, his excitement palpable. When you nod, he lets out a delighted laugh, teleporting you both into the air for a brief moment in his excitement before bringing you back down gently. He cups your face in his hands, pressing kisses all over your cheeks and lips, his happiness absolutely infectious. "I am going to be a papa?!" he repeats, as if he can’t quite believe it, but the pure joy on his face shows that he couldn’t be happier. He immediately begins to talk about your future together, about how he’ll be the best father, about how lucky the child will be to have you as their mother.

Throughout your pregnancy, Kurt is an absolute ball of energy and love. He’s always fussing over you, making sure you’re comfortable, making sure you’re happy, and doing everything he can to make you smile. He talks to your belly constantly, telling your baby stories of his own childhood, sharing his love for adventure and his deep faith. "You will be loved, little one. So very loved," he whispers often, his tail lightly wrapping around you as he presses his head to your stomach. Despite his own rough upbringing, Kurt is determined to make sure your child is raised with nothing but love and joy. He’s so excited for every little milestone, constantly asking how you’re feeling, and making sure that you never feel alone or overwhelmed. He even starts knitting baby clothes in his spare time, determined to create something personal for your child.

When labor begins, Kurt is nervous but tries his best to stay calm for your sake. He teleports in and out of the room, fetching things, bringing you water, doing anything he can to help. "You are so strong, meine liebe, you’ve got this," he says, though you can see the nervous energy in him as he paces slightly. When things get intense, he stays by your side, holding your hand tightly, his usual calm demeanor replaced with pure awe at what’s happening. The moment the baby is born, Kurt is overwhelmed with emotion. Tears fill his golden eyes as he looks at the tiny life you’ve created together. "Our little miracle," he whispers in awe, his tail brushing gently against the baby’s tiny hand as he cradles them carefully. His heart is full, knowing that this is the start of a new, beautiful chapter for your family.

Piotr Rasputin (Colossus)

When you tell Piotr you’re pregnant, his first reaction is one of quiet shock. His gentle nature has always been a core part of who he is, but the idea of becoming a father leaves him momentarily speechless. He stares at you for a moment, as if processing the magnitude of what you just said. Then, slowly, a smile breaks across his face, and his massive arms gently pull you into a warm, protective embrace. "We are going to have a child?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with wonder. His metal form, cold to the touch, somehow feels comforting as he holds you close, his hands resting gently on your stomach. "I… I will do everything to protect you and our child," he promises, his deep voice filled with determination and love.

Throughout your pregnancy, Piotr becomes an even more protective and attentive partner. He’s already used to being careful with his strength around you, but now he’s even more cautious, always making sure you’re comfortable and safe. He spends hours drawing and painting, creating art that reflects the love and joy he feels for you and the baby. His gentle nature shines through as he constantly checks in with you, making sure you’re well-rested, eating enough, and not doing anything that could put strain on you or the baby. "You should rest, moya lyubov’," he says softly, offering you a cup of tea or a warm blanket whenever you look the least bit uncomfortable. He talks about the future often, about how he wants to raise the child with the same love and care his family gave him, how he wants to teach them to be strong but gentle, like him.

When labor begins, Piotr is a bundle of nerves beneath his calm exterior. His metal form shifts, and you can see the tension in his usually composed demeanor. He stays by your side, holding your hand gently, though you can tell he’s trying not to show just how worried he is. "I am here, love, you are so strong," he says softly, his voice a low rumble as he reassures you throughout the process. As the labor progresses, he’s there every step of the way, doing whatever he can to help. When the baby is finally born, Piotr is overwhelmed with emotion. He carefully cradles the tiny life in his large, metal arms, his eyes shining with tears as he looks at you with pure love. "Our family," he whispers, his deep voice filled with awe and devotion. "You have given me everything."

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

When you tell Erik you’re pregnant, his initial reaction is one of deep, contemplative silence. You watch as the weight of the news settles over him like a heavy cloak, and for a brief moment, there’s an unreadable look in his sharp eyes. He’s always been a man burdened by the past, his life filled with loss and pain. But then, his expression softens, and he reaches out to touch your face, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. "A child," he murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid to believe it. Slowly, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. "We will give them the world," he promises, his voice low and filled with the intensity that only Erik can bring. Though you can tell the news has stirred up memories of his past, the joy he feels for this future with you is undeniable.

During the pregnancy, Erik becomes fiercely protective, bordering on overbearing at times. He’s always been a man who values control, and now that you’re carrying his child, that instinct is heightened tenfold. He monitors everything, making sure you’re safe, making sure you’re comfortable, and making sure nothing threatens you or the baby. His magnetic abilities become almost a subconscious part of how he protects you, moving objects out of your way before you even realize they’re there, adjusting the temperature of the room without a second thought. Despite his intensity, there’s a tenderness in the way he speaks to your belly, as though he’s already trying to form a connection with your unborn child. "You will be strong," he says one evening, his hand resting on your stomach. "I will make sure of it."

When labor begins, Erik is calm but incredibly focused. He’s been through many battles in his life, but this is something different—a battle of a more personal kind. He stays by your side, his hand gripping yours tightly, though you can see the tension in his jaw as he tries to remain composed. "You can do this, my love," he says, his voice steady despite the worry in his eyes. As the contractions grow stronger, he channels his abilities to make the environment as soothing as possible, dimming the lights, adjusting the metal fixtures in the room to make everything feel more comfortable for you. When the baby is finally born, Erik is silent for a long moment, staring at the tiny life you’ve both created. Then, without a word, he takes the child in his arms, his eyes filled with a rare vulnerability as he gazes down at them. "I never thought I would have this again," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

When you tell Wade you’re pregnant, his reaction is, unsurprisingly, over the top. He stares at you with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open comically for a moment before he suddenly breaks into a huge grin. "Are you serious?!" he shouts, throwing his arms in the air and spinning around in excitement. He grabs you and starts bouncing you up and down, all the while chattering on about how you’re going to have the coolest kid in the world. "Oh man, this is going to be awesome! Our little baby Wadelette, or Wadelino!" His excitement is infectious, and though his humor never stops, you can tell there’s genuine love and excitement behind his wild antics. He talks about everything from baby names to what kind of mini-costume the kid will wear, all while being completely and utterly himself.

During the pregnancy, Wade is a chaotic but devoted partner. He’s constantly hovering, making ridiculous jokes to keep your spirits up, and finding the weirdest ways to pamper you. "You’re eating for two now! Gotta keep that belly happy!" he’d say, handing you a tray of the strangest food combinations you’ve ever seen. Wade has a way of making even the most uncomfortable moments of pregnancy into something funny, but when the serious moments hit, he’s surprisingly thoughtful. He talks to your belly in exaggerated voices, telling the baby stories of his adventures and promising to be the best (and weirdest) dad ever. Though he can’t quite stop being himself, you know that beneath all the humor, Wade is completely committed to you and the baby.

When labor hits, Wade is... well, Wade. He’s running around like a madman, alternately panicking and cracking jokes to try and keep things light. "Okay, okay, I’ve got this! I’ve fought ninjas, I’ve blown up buildings, how hard can this be?!" he says, though the genuine concern in his eyes gives him away. As things progress, he becomes a little more serious, holding your hand and whispering words of encouragement between his nervous ramblings. When the baby is finally born, Wade is struck speechless for once in his life. He stares down at the tiny bundle in awe, his usual mask of humor slipping as he gently takes the baby in his arms. "Holy crap," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. "We made a tiny person." He looks at you with wide eyes, his usual bravado replaced with pure, unfiltered love.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

When you tell Wanda you’re pregnant, her initial reaction is one of quiet, overwhelmed emotion. You watch as her eyes fill with tears, her hands trembling as she reaches out to touch your face. "A baby?" she whispers, her voice filled with disbelief. For Wanda, this news is a dream she never thought possible, a hope she had long since buried beneath the weight of her complicated life. She pulls you into a gentle embrace, holding you close as she tries to process the enormity of what this means for the both of you. Her powers flicker around her, responding to her heightened emotions, but she calms herself quickly, pressing her forehead to yours. "I never thought I would have this chance," she says softly. "But now… now we can have a family."

Throughout the pregnancy, Wanda is a bundle of emotions—both excitement and worry. She’s incredibly protective, her powers always at the ready to keep you and the baby safe, but there’s an underlying fear that something could go wrong. Despite her concerns, she embraces the experience fully, surrounding you with warmth and love. She spends hours researching everything about pregnancy, reading books, and using her magic to ensure you and the baby are healthy. She talks to your belly every night, using her magic to create little illusions of what she imagines your child might look like. "You will be so loved," she whispers to your stomach, her hands gently resting over the growing life inside you. Despite the fears that linger in the back of her mind, Wanda finds joy in the journey, grateful for the chance to experience this with you.

When labor begins, Wanda is nervous but focused. She holds your hand, her magic swirling around the room in gentle pulses, trying to ease your pain and keep you calm. "You’re so strong," she says, her voice soft but full of conviction. "I’m here with you." As the contractions intensify, Wanda uses her powers to help as much as she can without interfering too much, guiding you through the pain with a steady hand and reassuring words. When the baby is finally born, Wanda is overwhelmed with emotion. She cradles the newborn in her arms, tears streaming down her face as she gazes at the life you’ve created together. "Our child," she whispers, her voice filled with awe. "I can’t believe it… they’re perfect."

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

When you tell Pietro you’re pregnant, his reaction is fast—literally. He zooms around the room at breakneck speed, his excitement palpable as he tries to process the news. "Wait, wait, wait—seriously? I’m going to be a dad?!" he exclaims, coming to a sudden stop in front of you with wide eyes and a grin that stretches from ear to ear. He’s so thrilled that he can barely stand still, constantly moving from one side of the room to the other, muttering excitedly to himself about baby names, future races, and all the things he’ll teach your child. "They’re gonna be fast, I just know it!" he says, already imagining a little speedster following in his footsteps. His excitement is contagious, and though he can be overwhelming at times, you know that Pietro’s joy is genuine and heartfelt.

During the pregnancy, Pietro is both attentive and hilariously impatient. He’s constantly zipping around, checking on you, fetching things, and making sure you’re comfortable. "You need anything? Water? Snacks? Foot rub?" he asks at lightning speed, already halfway out the door before you can answer. His energy is boundless, and though it can be a bit much at times, you appreciate how much he cares. Pietro is always talking to your belly, encouraging the baby to hurry up and grow faster. "Come on, little one, we’re all waiting for you!" he says with a grin, pressing a kiss to your stomach. Despite his impatience, Pietro is incredibly sweet, and he does everything he can to make sure you feel loved and supported throughout the entire process.

When labor begins, Pietro is a whirlwind of nervous energy. He’s constantly pacing, moving from one side of the room to the other, his speed betraying his anxiety. "You’re doing great, babe, really great!" he says, though his voice is tinged with nervousness. He tries to stay calm for your sake, but you can tell he’s on edge, desperate for everything to go smoothly. When the baby is finally born, Pietro’s world comes to a complete standstill for the first time in his life. The moment they place the baby in his arms, everything around him slows, and for once, he’s not in a rush to go anywhere. He stares down at your newborn child, his usual cocky smirk replaced with a look of pure awe and disbelief. "Wow," he whispers, his voice soft and reverent. "I… we made this." His hands, usually moving a mile a minute, are gentle as he cradles the baby close, eyes wide with wonder as he examines every little detail of their face.

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stormgardenscurse · 3 days

Text

pillow stacks

Summary: Sleeping over with them! Ace’s is longer in honour of his birthday!

Characters: Ace, Vil, Azul, Charming Stranger (that new Gojo-guy in the next halloween event)

Ace

The idea begins when Ace realises how quiet Ramshackle Dorm is at night. Sure, you say that you’re used to it and it’s not a big deal, but a part of Ace feels bad for not realising that no matter how he and Deuce may try to liven up your daily life, you still are, first and foremost, a student displaced in another world.

And with that comes a certain sense of loneliness that Ace can’t stop thinking about. At this point, it’s less pity that he feels for you and more of a desire to hang out with you after your usual hours. He wants you to feel like you have a home in Twisted Wonderland, too. And, well… He’d like to include you in his, by letting you into his personal world, if he has the chance.

…Which is why you’re here now! Doing typical things like a movie marathon, nail painting, and snacking on cup noodles. Ace claims that everyone just needs some TLC once in a while (including him, though you can’t imagine what’s stressing him out), so he’ll even let you do his nails (if you do a bad job Ace will have his revenge by doing your makeup after).

But Ace has always been a best friend who involves you in everything, so the activities up until now haven’t really struck either of you with a sense of ‘something more’ yet. That is, until you guys were fighting over the makeup palette and it stains your shirt - you didn’t bring a spare, so it was left to Ace to give you one of his instead.

That was the moment Ace realised that not only was he dressing you up, but he was doing so in his clothes; just what kind of crazy scenario is that?!

Suffice to say, he couldn’t help but stare as he saw the way one of his baggier shirts looked on your frame. It had to be one of his sleepwears too, which most people wouldn’t see him in - which only makes his thoughts race even further, knowing that this was a side of you that only he would be privy to. And he’d very much keep it like that.

(The next day, Ace just borrows you one of his uniform’s dress-shirts so that you can escape the dorm without looking too suspicious. You get caught regardless because he’d forgotten to retrieve one of his hair pins from you, in the design of a bright red cherry.)

Vil

It’s not often that you get to spend a quiet evening with Vil (or simply a quiet, extended amount of time at all, considering how busy the both of you are). So to summarise the sleepover as therapeutic wouldn’t be too far off.

Vil wastes no time in beginning an elaborate skincare routine, and the two of you watch movies while waiting for your face masks to dry.

You even manage to convince Vil to try one of your favourite games. If it’s for two-players, you’ll quickly get engrossed and experience a bit of drama (just typical, childish arguments about how one of you keep falling off the platforms). If it’s a visual novel or otome type of thing, you finally have the chance to witness what Vil Schoenheit, real-life celebrity and crush of thousands, has to say about romancing a 2D fictional man who is pretty, by the game’s standards, and critique how the storyline goes.

Spoiler: he thinks you just decided to torture him for your entertainment, specifically because you chose an otome where the male leads were all pigeons.

In the case where you played a normal two-player game, Vil will ultimately try and fail to forget about it so that he doesn’t get addicted/distracted by the game in the next few days, but of course, you soon get asked when you’ll next be free to play. He needs to get the ending over with so that he can move on with his life.

Your main souvenir from the sleepover is a new phone wallpaper — which Vil swapped for you when you were still setting up the game on your laptop. It’s a selfie with the two of you together, a far-cry from the usual celebrity and prefect personas you wear in everyday life.

Azul

No one can fathom how you managed to convince Azul to do this. Even with the pretence of this being a study-sleepover, he was generally much too self conscious about how he’s presented to let people witness him unguarded — let alone sleepwear.

Azul’s stuck; he can’t wear anything too tight fitting or hugging his silhouette because he knows he’ll just be too busy stealing glances, checking to see your reaction and overthinking about whether it’s a good one or not. So, instead, Azul wears something baggier (very unlike him), which also covers all his skin.

His plan works pretty well, up until the point where you almost roll off the bed by accident, and while catching you, Azul realises - ears red and face following - that you were leaning your entire weight on him. And your hands are right on his abs.

It’s almost phantom-like how fast the two of you dart away, trying to salvage your dignities. You’re left flustered because his muscles felt unexpectedly defined, while Azul is considering if he should make a contract with you and try to confiscate your memories of the past minute.

The paper that you both were working on is submitted successfully the next day, but Professor Trein notices an embarrassing spelling error on your names.

Just what could’ve caused this kind of mistake anyways? Well… it may have to do with your innocent question of how your names would be written together if you had the same surname instead.

Just yours ‘and Azul Ashengrotto’ together in one line, or separately as you ‘Ashengrotto and Azul Ashengrotto’? Wouldn’t that sound redundant?

Azul had quite enough of your questions after that, scribbling your names and shutting the folder like his life depended on it. He’d forgotten to include your surname, making it look like the former hypothetical above.

Charming Stranger (Pumpkin King, Gojo twst, etc)

For a second, you thought you’d woken up in yet another coffin like the one that brought you to Twisted Wonderland. But you were soon proven wrong as someone cleared their throat next to you, causing you to jump and hit your head against the coffin door in your alarm.

It’s more spacious than you realise, accommodating a man beside you without it feeling too crushed. But judging by the lack of panic on your part about how claustrophobic it is, you assume that this was some sort of odd dream.

An odd dream with a charming-looking stranger. Perhaps you wouldn’t want to wake up just yet.

The stranger welcomes you to his humble abode, mentioning that it’s the first time that anyone has entered here other than himself. That ought to make you quite special, seeing as he doesn’t even feel irritated by the lack of space. Are you perhaps a ghost seeking some warmth? He regrets to inform you that his vessel is equally as cold as the ‘bed’ around you.

He’s also quite enamoured by your nickname for him. ‘It makes it sound like we’re in a romantic tale~ If you do not mind dancing in a graveyard of wilted flowers, then I would be more than happy to share a never-ending waltz with you.’

You bat off his comments, saying you probably won’t meet again after this - only to be taken aback by his smile.

Confident, knowing, and stretched as wide as a jack-o-lantern’s mouth. For a second it finally hits you that he is a type of powerful being, and that if he wanted to, may gain a permanent hold on your soul.

Then, the alarm flees your veins as his expression relaxes, taking your hand to place a parting kiss on your knuckles. Until you meet again…

Like how most dreams evade memory, you’ve already forgotten about this encounter the next time you see this man. His eyes land on you within he crowd of students at the college, and seems delighted that you’re there.

A wink, a finger to his lips. Just wait a little longer, and you can share that waltz he promised you atop his bed.

#ace trappola x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #pumpkin king twst #gojo twisted wonderland #THESE TAGS ARE SO UNSERIOUS ILL EDIT THEM ONCE HIS OFFICIAL NAME IS OUT 😭#twst x reader #twst x you #twisted wonderland imagines #twst headcanons #twst writing #twst reader insert

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paper-mario-wiki · 2 days

Note

thank you for posting about trans men i know i'm the billionth to say it. but it really is necessary. once i got called transmisogynistic for saying that people care more (in both good and bad ways) about trans women than trans men (and that in itself is a result of misogyny). that's not at all to say that trans women have it "better" in any way, there's just a massive gap in visibility and awareness and it's nice to see any kind of acknowledgement <3 hope i explained that well enough to not look like an asshole

my thoughts on that are thusly:

transfems DO receive more vocal support from the majority of allies, point-blank. that is a measurable truth. this is something i think happens because of the "people see trans men as defanged women" thing i was talking about in my last post.

i think that trans men are ignored because 1) people like shitting on trans women more, and 2) people have an unconscious idea in their mind that masculinity means self-sufficiency, therefore trans men aren't seen as being as "vulnerable".

personally, i feel as though femininity as a concept is something that is seen as too inherently virtuous by allies on the left. i dont mean to say "people shouldn't be celebrating femininity!", but i DO mean to say "people shouldn't be associating femininity with moral goodness".

when people think like that and they see trans men "put down" their femininity, they see them as no longer worth celebrating-- or worse, they see them as having chosen to be "the bad gender".

additionally, because bigots don't really see trans men as a "threat" (again, "defanged women"), there is less violence towards them reported in media outlets trying to spin a story, and thus less perceived need for support towards them in the minds of anyone who doesn't, like, talk to them daily.

these are my thoughts. anyone is free to leave me a message if you think im wrong.

#ask

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ginkgooou · 23 hours

Text

dance lessons | alexia putellas

summary: you and alexia try dancing.

this one took a while; i rewrote it like three times before i was finally happy with it. i'm no expert in dancing, but i tried my best to describe the moves. i hope you enjoy! feel free to send feedback or requests. 😄

english is not my first language.

4,272 words

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

you were out with alba, leisurely strolling through the city, when you came across two people handing out flyers. as you were about to walk past, one of them stepped forward, stopping you with a friendly smile.

“hey, do you two want to try a dance class?”, the woman asked you, offering you a flyer.

alba just shook her head. “no, thank you.”

you stopped, intrigued, taking the flyer from her hand and looking over it. it seemed like a fun idea, something you could do with alexia - an opportunity to try something new together.

as you skimmed the paper, the lady explained, “we teach ballroom and latin dances. it's for beginners, so anyone can join. you can sign up online if you're interested. the website's on the flyer.”

you nodded thoughtfully, looking up at her with a small smile. “thank you. i'll think about it.”

with that, you turned to alba, who linked her arm with yours as you walked away. she gave you a knowing look. “you sure ale will do it with you?”

with a smirk, you replied, “i have my ways.”

☆

well, your way was simply signing both you and alexia up for the course without telling her. after three years together, you knew your girlfriend very well and you knew if you'd asked her, she would've immediately said no.

alexia loved her routines, finding comfort in the structure of her days. they gave her a sense of control in a world that often felt too chaotic.

you understood that and respected it, but every now and then, you'd try to pull her out of her comfort zone a little. a new restaurant, an unexpected detour through the city or, when time allowed, a spontaneous road trip - just small things. it was always a struggle to get her to agree to your ideas. alexia could be very stubborn, but you always found a way to persuade her.

you knew that this time would be particularly difficult as it wasn't a one-time thing like usual; the dance course would last over several weeks. you could already picture your girlfriend's grumpy face, insisting she didn't want to go, claiming that she had football and no time for something like this.

but, you'd already made a plan.

first, you decided that instead of ordering in, you'd make dinner. you settled on cooking pasta with the homemade sauce that she liked so much, hoping it would put her in a good mood.

you had just started on the sauce when you heard the soft click of the front door echoing through the apartment. it was quickly followed by the muffled sound of footsteps and the soft thud of alexia's bag being dropped on the floor.

a few moments later, you felt your girlfriend's strong arms wrap around your waist, her familiar warmth bringing a smile to your face. she placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder before resting her head there with a soft sigh.

“hola, mi amor. i missed you.”, she mumbled, her voice tinged with fatigue.

turning your head slightly, you gave her a quick peck on her lips, whispering, “missed you too. how was training?”

“good. lots of things to work on.”, she replied.

as you continued making the sauce, alexia stayed wrapped around you, watching you cook. “ale?”, you said gently.

she hummed in response, letting you know she was listening.

“why don't you go shower? dinner will be ready soon.”

alexia just pressed herself closer, burying her head in your neck, making you chuckle at her clinginess. “baby, come on.”

“vale.”, your girlfriend grumbled, clearly reluctant to let go. with a sigh, she finally released her hold on you and headed upstairs.

while she showered, you finished preparing dinner and began setting the table. you were just plating the food, when you heard alexia coming back downstairs.

you looked up to see your girlfriend padding into the kitchen, her wet hair falling over her shoulders, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants.

“it smells amazing, amor.”, she said, coming over and kissing your cheek. you smiled at her, turning back to the plates. “go sit down. i'll be right over.”

alexia nodded and made her way to the table, taking a seat and pouring two glasses of water.

once you finished plating, you walked over, setting the dishes on the table before sitting down beside her.

both of you eagerly dug in, conversation flowing effortlessly throughout the meal. between bites, alexia recounted her day, telling you about the intense drills, funny moments with her teammates and the interview she had to do while also asking about your day.

once you finished dinner, the conversation and you watched as the tension slowly melted away from her shoulders. her tone became lighter and more relaxed. you knew this was the perfect moment to bring up the dance class.

you glanced at her with a smile. “oh, i forgot to tell you! i was out with alba today. we went for lunch and then just wandered around.”, you began casually. “funny story, actually - we walked past some people handing out flyers.”, you continued, chuckling nervously as you watched your girlfriend closely.

alexia eyed you with suspicion. “what did you do?”, she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“well.”, you started, clearing your throat, “they were promoting their dance classes. i checked out the website - it looks really cool and professional.” you paused, grinning excitedly at alexia, “so, i signed us up for the course! it starts on monday.”

“no.”, your girlfriend said immediately, shaking her head. “no, no, no. we are not doing that.” you laughed at her instant refusal, expecting nothing less.

“come on, ale. it'll be fun.”, you urged, trying to convince her.

“no! i don't have time. i have football.”, alexia argued, crossing her arms defiantly. “sorry, amor, but it's just not happening.”

you sighed, giving her your best puppy dog eyes. “please? for me?”

your girlfriend quickly looked away, knowing she would crumble if she looked at you much longer. “..no.”, she repeated, but her voice lacked the firmness it had before.

sensing she just needed one more little push, you proceeded with part two of your plan.

you scooted back and stood up, alexia's eyes following you as you moved to straddle her lap, your arms wrapping around her shoulders while hers instinctively fell to your hips. she slightly leaned back in her chair, making room for you.

you slowly leaned in, lips nearly touching. “please?”, you asked again, your lips brushing hers.

you could see alexia's resolve wavering and you knew you almost had her. closing the distance between you, you pressed your lips softly against hers. when you pulled away, your girlfriend chased your lips, clearly not ready for the kiss to end yet.

“for me, baby?”, you asked again, a smile forming on your lips.

alexia opened her eyes, gazing up at you. after a few seconds of silence, she sighed dramatically. “i hate you.”

your grin only widened. “so you'll go with me?”

“yes.”, she grumbled, rolling her eyes. “but i don't like it.”

“thank you, thank you, thank you!”, you squealed, showering her face with kisses. your girlfriend tried to keep a straight face, but she couldn't suppress the wide smile spreading on her lips.

☆

it was monday evening, just before 6 pm, and the dance studio was filled with people. you stood near the back, surrounded by couples who were much older than you, their chatter filling the air. shifting nervously, you glanced at the door for what felt like the hundredth time.

alexia was late.

you two had agreed to come here separately, since your girlfriend had a late interview. she had assured you she would make it, but as the clock crept closer to 6, doubt started to creep in.

when it was time for the lesson to start, the two instructors, a woman with a warm smile and a tall man with black hair, stepped forward.

“hello everyone and welcome to the course! i'm isabella and this is my partner, luis.”, the woman said enthusiastically, her voice carrying across the room. “over the next few weeks, we'll be teaching you how to dance.”

you were trying to listen, but your thoughts kept wandering to alexia. as isabella started to explain a bit more about the class, the door suddenly swung open. your girlfriend burst through, slightly out of breath, still wearing her training kit.

“lo siento!”, she called out, blushing as she realized that everyone was looking at her. for a second, she scanned the room, her gaze darting past the curious looks before landing on you.

a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips as your girlfriend hurried over, weaving through the people. when she reached you, she leaned in for a quick kiss. “i'm sorry.”, she whispered apologetically. “i didn't mean to be this late. the interview took longer than expected.”

you smiled at her, shaking your head. “it's fine. you're here now.”

alexia sighed, running a hand through her hair as she looked around, clearly feeling out of place in her kit. “i didn't have time to change.”, she muttered, tugging at the hem of her shirt.

“don't worry about it.”, you said softly, taking her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

someone clearing their throat beside you interrupted your whispering. you turned to see an older man giving you both a disapproving look. “could you stop talking? we're trying to listen.”, he said, sounding annoyed.

“sorry, we'll stop.”, you quickly apologized, flashing him a polite smile.

though, when you turned to your girlfriend and your eyes met hers, you let out a giggle. alexia couldn't suppress a grin, quietly shushing you and gesturing to the front.

you tuned back in just in time to catch isabella's last words. "so, our first dance will be a slow waltz," she began with a smile. "but before we begin, let's go over the hold."

she turned to luis, who took her hand in his as they stepped into position. he placed his right hand gently on isabella’s shoulder blade, while she rested her left hand on his upper arm. their free hands met between them. “the lead,” he explained, “places his right hand on the follow’s back, just here, and the follow’s left hand goes on the lead’s arm. your other hands meet, like so.” they turned in a circle so everyone could see clearly. they invited you to try it out, moving through the room and giving tips when needed.

“okay! now to the box step. it is really simple.”, isabella said. “the lead steps forward with their left foot. the follow steps back with their right.”

on cue, they moved, their feet sweeping across the floor in perfect synchronization. “step forward,” luis said, narrating his movement, “then side with the right foot, and bring your left foot to your right. then, you’ll step back with the right foot, side with the left, and close the feet again. that completes the box.”

you shifted your weight slightly, looking at alexia, who was staring at the instructors as if this dance was a tactical briefing before a big match. her brow was furrowed in concentration, which made you grin.

after they had showed you the movement a few more times, isabella smiled encouragingly at the class. “now, it’s time for you to try. we’ll walk around and help you.”

you turned to alexia, a playful glint in your eye. “so,” you began, raising an eyebrow, “who’s going to lead?”

your girlfriend chuckled, moving closer with a confident grin. “me, of course.” she tried to get into position, placing her hand on your shoulder blade, but you stepped back, not ready to give up just yet.

“but what if i want to lead?”, you asked hopefully. alexia shook her head. “no, i lead. no arguments.”

you huffed, pouting slightly as you mumbled, “so not fair.”

with a sigh, you finally let her step closer and take hold of you while you rested your hand on her upper arm. you could feel the warmth of her hand against your back, and despite your earlier protest, an excited smile crept on your face. “well, then. lead the way, capitana.”, you told her, laughing as she shot you an annoyed look at the nickname.

as it came to trying the steps, you could feel alexia’s earlier confidence beginning to waver slightly. she bit her lip, glancing down at her feet, and then stepped forward with her left. you weren’t ready yet and stumbled a little as you quickly tried to follow her lead and move backward, but you couldn’t hold your balance and accidentally stepped on her toes.

“oops, sorry!”, you blurted out, pulling back.

alexia just shook her head, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “no, it was my fault.”, she said, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. “okay. let’s try again.”

you both repositioned yourselves and tried again. this time, you were ready and as she took a step forward, you moved back with your right foot, staying in the rhythm. alexia was incredibly focused, her brows furrowed in concentration.

“forward, side, close.”, she murmured to herself, following the steps. the determination in her eyes made you smile, but you could also feel the tension in her body. “hey, ale.”, you said softly, catching her attention. when she looked up at you, you continued, “try to relax. this is just for fun.”

your girlfriend took a deep breath, trying to let go of the pressure. “you’re right. just for fun.”, she replied, smiling at you.

after a few minutes, isabella made her way over to you. “good! that’s good.”, she praised, offering a warm smile. “but try not to look down at your feet. keep your eyes on each other or look over the left shoulder.” she gestured for you to step closer together. “you can also move closer together. it will help you feel the movements and make it easier to follow the lead.”

you and alexia nodded, moving closer, and got back into position. your eyes met and a soft smile passed between you. when alexia stepped forward this time, you could feel the shift in her weight, making it easier to anticipate her next move. the closeness made everything smoother, as if you were more in tune with each other.

“that's much better!”, isabella remarked before moving on to help the next couple.

after the first successful attempt, you tried the box step again. but it was alexia who faltered this time, accidentally stepping on your toes. “i'm so sorry.”, she muttered, her cheeks flushing as her gaze shifted over your shoulder, embarrassed. “it's just…”, she trailed off, meeting your eyes for a brief second before quickly looking down at her feet. “it's hard to concentrate with you so close.”, your girlfriend admitted softly, biting her lip.

you smiled at her confession, finding it incredibly endearing that even after all this time, you still had this effect on her. you couldn't help but press a quick kiss to her cheek. “i love you.”, you told her as you pulled away, catching the soft smile that lit up her face.

alexia's hand pressed gently against your back, drawing you closer, her eyes sparkling with affection. “te quiero.”, she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, making your heart flutter.

suddenly, luis’ voice cut through, interrupting the moment between you. “alright, now that everyone's practiced the box step, let's learn the turning box.”, he announced, moving to the front of the room. “isabella and i will demonstrate.”

alexia cleared her throat and let go of you, turning her attention to the instructors.

luis took a moment to position himself with isabella. “the lead steps forward with the left foot, but this time, instead of moving straight, you'll turn slightly to the left.”, he began, showcasing the first move.

“as you step to the side with the right foot, your body should turn about 90° to the left.”, he continued, guiding isabella through the movement. “then, step with the left foot next to the right.”

they showed you the turns a few more times, with isabella also guiding you through the follow's role. as the demonstration concluded, luis turned to you all with a smile. “now it's your turn again.”

you and alexia quickly got back into position. “ready?”, your girlfriend asked, looking at you with a soft smile. “yes”, you answered.

you tried it slowly, wanting to get a feel for the added movement. it worked surprisingly well; you barely had to think about it as alexia confidently led you into the turn.

alexia was focused on the steps, murmuring them quietly under her breath. with each turn, you got more comfortable, feeling more confident in your steps.

encouraged by how well it worked, alexia picked up the pace a little and soon, you were gliding across the floor. just as you executed a smooth turn, you suddenly became aware of another couple moving in the opposite direction.

before you could react, you collided with them - your shoulder bumping into the man's side while alexia accidentally stepped on the woman's toes.

“oh no, sorry!”, alexia exclaimed, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. you, on the other hand, struggled to keep your laughter in as you turned to the couple, who looked just as surprised, but quickly joined you in the laughter. the man shook his head, waving off the mishap with a hrin. “it happens to the best of us.”

once you repositioned yourselves, you began anew, alexia now more aware of her surroundings. but the collision seemed to have made her relax more, smiling slightly while continuing to dance.

when luis approached, he smiled brightly at you. “that's really good!”, he said, nodding with approval. “keep it up!” the praise filled you with confidence and when you looked at alexia, you found her beaming with delight, her eyes sparkling with pride.

after a few more minutes, isabella moved to the sound system and put on music. “now, let's try it with music.”, she said enthusiastically.

as the melody of a slow waltz filled the room, everything changed. the soft notes wrapped around you, making the steps feel more fluid and natural, the rythm guiding your movements. alexia's confidence grew with every turn, leading you through the dance seamlessly.

you spent the remainder of the class learning more about the waltz, with luca and isabella showing you new steps here and there.

as you laid in bed that night, you turned to face her. “so, how did you like the class?”, you asked softly.

alexia shifted slightly, turning her head to meet your gaze in the dark. a small smile tugged at her lips. “i actually liked it.”, she admitted.

you raised an eyebrow, teasing her. “really? that's funny, considering someone didn't want to go at first.”

she chuckled, her hand reaching out to playfully nudge your arm. “yeah, yeah. but, really, it was fun.” her fingers intertwined with yours under the covers.

you grinned, satisfied with her confession. “i told you it would be.”

alexia sighed softly, leaning in to kiss you. “it was only fun because i did it with you.”

you smiled, your heart fluttering at her words. alexia wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you closer, her warmth lulling you to sleep.

☆

over the next few weeks, you continued going to the dance studio every monday, learning something new each time. throughout the week, you tried to practice as often as you could, but time seemed to always slip away from you.

both of your schedules were packed - alexia busy with training, matches and interviews while you had your own work commitments. it usually ended up with you practicing an hour before having to leave for class. but, despite the lack of practice, you both had improved quite a lot, especially alexia.

you could see your girlfriend's confidence grow with each session, her movements becoming more fluid and graceful. she led you effortlessly through the various dance routines - slow fox, cha-cha and tango - as if she had been dancing for years. she was a natural at this.

at least, that's what it seemed like to you.

one afternoon, you decided to surprise alexia and pick her up from training. you had a free day and since alexia's car was at the mechanic, she needed someone to pick her up.

after parking your car, you made your way over toward the building's entrance. halfway there, the door swung open and the first few girls exited the building. as soon as they spotted you, their faces lit up with excitement, and they rushed over.

“hi! i haven't seen you in sooo long. i've missed you so much.”, claudia said, pulling you into a tight hug.

you smiled warmly, returning the hug. “hey, clau. i missed you, too. work's just been a lot these days.”

after claudia let go, you turned to greet patri and ona with a hug, too. meanwhile, claudia continued talking, “you should visit more often. ale’s so much nicer when you're around.”

you couldn't help but laugh at that, knowing all too well how your girlfriend could get when it came to football. “i'll talk to her.”, you replied with a grin. then, glancing toward the building, you asked, “but speaking of alexia, where is she?”

more players had started to trickle out of the building, but still no sign of your girlfriend. ona was quick to answer your question, “she wanted to do some extra practice. she's still out on the pitch.”

you turned back to the group with a grateful smile. “ah, thank you. i should've known.”, you chuckled. “i guess i'll head in to find her.”

patri grinned, nudging your arm playfully. “you'd better. otherwise, she'll be out there all day.”

you laughed, pulling each of them into a quick hug. “alright, bye guys.”, you said, the three of them echoing your words as you headed toward the building.

inside, you made your way through the familiar hallways, your footsteps quickening as you approached the pitch, the faint sound of voices drifting toward you.

but as you stepped outside, the sight before you made you stop in your tracks.

there was alexia, but instead of practicing football, she was…dancing. and with mapi, of all people. they seemed to be attempting the tango - or at least something that resembled it. your girlfriend was, of course, leading, her movements focused and graceful.

mapi, on the other hand, was clearly less enthusiastic about the whole thing. “why am i doing this? i don't want to do this!”, she complained, barely trying to follow alexia's lead.

your girlfriend, already looking annoyed, sighed in frustration. “you need to be closer. i can't do this if you're standing a mile away from me.”

mapi threw her hands up. “i don't want to be closer, i need my space! i want to be free, not glued to you!”

you stood silently at the edge of the pitch, trying to stifle your laughter as you watched the scene unfold. alexia, determined as always, restarted the routine, but mapi still kept stumbling over the steps. your girlfriend's patience was running thin, the vein on her forehead looking ready to pop.

“come on, mapi. you're not even trying now. is it really so hard to follow a few steps?” her voice rose in frustration. “it's so much easier with ingrid! why do you always have to make everything so difficult!”

“well, i am not ingrid! and i am trying!”, mapi shot back, stamping her foot and refusing to take another step. alexia took a sharp breath, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “dios mio, i've had enough! you are no help.”, she huffed, rolling her eyes. she spun around, ready to storm off the pitch, but then her eyes fell on you.

she froze, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “oh, no.”

you couldn't help the grin that spread across your face as you stepped onto the pitch. “oh, yes.”

alexia blinked, trying to recover. “it's not what it looks like…”

you raised an eyebrow. “it looked like you were trying to dance.”, you teased, coming to a stop in front of her. “so this is what you've been up to?”

alexia blushed, looking everywhere but you, thinking of ways to get out of the situation. “it's just been a few times…”, she mumbled.

but mapi, who clearly had enough, jumped in. “a few times? she's been dragging ingrid into this for weeks! alexia stole my girlfriend - ingrid's always busy with her now. she barely even talks to me at training! and now i had to dance, too.”

you laughed, watching your girlfriend grow more embarrassed by the second. “i see. and you didn't tell me because…?”

alexia ran a hand through her hair, giving you a sheepish smile. “i just… wanted to impress you.”, she murmured quietly.

you chuckled softly, moving closer and cupping her cheek. “you're so silly, my love.”

your girlfriend wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “i'm sorry?”, she said with a crooked smile.

shaking your head, you leaned in to kiss her again, only to be interrupted by loud gagging coming from mapi. “ugh, can you not? this is torture.”

you both laughed, breaking apart as alexia turned to her best friend. “you're one to talk. and just so you know, i'll never dance with you again.”

at that, mapi began to laugh happily. “thank god!”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

#woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #mapi leon

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ckret2 · 16 hours

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What's your stance on Ford as a person? Honestly, I believe that for thr majority of canon he is a bad person. But I believe he grew. Still not great though XD

(Love him anyways obvs)

I disagree entirely! I think he's equally as good a person as any of the other main cast.*

*Except Mabel, who, as we all know, is always right about everything.**

(**This is a lighthearted joke. For the love of god, I don't want Mabel discourse in my inbox.)

His biggest sins in the show:

After telling his brother that he was thinking about changing their shared life plans, and then discovering that his brother had gone to the high school that night for no good reason and gone to the science fair for no good reason and messed around near Ford's science project for no good reason and broke it and didn't tell Ford about it... Ford believed Stan did it intentionally and held a grudge for it. You know what, it WOULD be pretty damn hard to believe it was an accident.

Hilariously ill-equipped to cope with Fiddleford's mental health. A guy who responds to "I have anxiety" with "have you tried yoga, it helps me" isn't a bad person, he's clueless. "Character cheerfully enacts a bad idea while a loved one in the background goes NO PLEASE DON'T DO THAT" describes half the episodes of Gravity Falls.

Was successfully manipulated by a professional manipulator into believing his best friend wished him ill. Man, what a terrible person Ford is for being manipulated by a manipulator and saying cruel things to somebody he'd been genuinely convinced was trying to harm him.

??? Didn't say thanks to a guy he was still mad at after the guy fixed a problem he himself had caused. This is a solitary example of stubborn bad etiquette, jesus christ. There's half a dozen different reasons why it makes perfect sense Ford wasn't in the right mindset to feel grateful, this is not something worth indicting his entire character over.

He had high ambitions, which everyone seems to lambast him for, but high ambitions that wouldn't have required doing anybody harm! (Until the professional manipulator started manipulating him into harming the people around him, but we are going to demonstrate some reading comprehension and not blame Ford's underlying morality as a person for things he never would've done if not for Bill's bullying, con artistry, and outright lies.) Like, what is it that he wanted to do with his life? Use his talents to get rich and famous? Shit, that's exactly what Stan wanted to do with his life. It's what Dipper fantasizes about doing with his life. Even Mabel, who thinks about her long-term future the least, dreams big with her art & performances and is already making big money off cheap-ass commissions. What terrible people they all are, for—let me check my notes here—uhhh... unrealistically fantasizing about achieving success in life by doing the things they're good at.

When their dad accuses Stan of lying as a child, Ford puts his entire summer on the line to defend Stan even though he knows Stan is a habitual liar and has no reason to believe Stan is telling the truth this time.

When his new college roommate he barely even knows gets laughed at for proposing an outlandish scientific theory, his first emotion is outrage at this injustice and he drops everything to convince his already-despondent roommate that he was right and help him prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

When he moves to a new town, he tries again and again to befriend his new neighbors, and fails not because he's rude or a jerk, but because he's awkward as hell, tells terrible jokes, and sucks at identifying phoenixes.

When Fiddleford gets hurt around him, he cares about it, feels guilty about putting him in that position, doesn't want it to happen again, and tries his best to help even though he's bad at helping.

When he gets kidnapped by a weird holiday folklore creature, he concludes without even thinking about it that he's now in charge of protecting and rescuing the kidnapped kids. Yeah, then he immediately starts hollering at the folklore creature for trying to impose his religious beliefs on Ford and the kids—but like, Ford was right tho, he just had bad timing.

When he discovers that the Northwest family committed atrocities against their poorer neighbors a century ago, his first instinct is to march up to their house, find the first Northwest he can locate, and give them a piece of his mind for it. Like, this won't even FIX anything. He's just THAT OUTRAGED over the injustice.

When he sees what he thinks is a fortune telling fraud conning the people, he attempts to debunk her because he's mad to see someone cheating other people with lies—and when he can't debunk her, he just leaves her alone rather than harass her about it. Typically, if assholes think somebody's doing something wrong but don't have any proof of it and fail to get proof when they look, they decide they're right anyway and keep giving that person shit. Ford doesn't give her shit. That's the opposite of an asshole move.

When he discovers his Portal To Knowledge (And Fame & Fortune) is actually a Portal To Doom (But Still Possibly Fame & Fortune, Maybe Even Godly Power), he isn't tempted for a second to keep working on it anyway. There is no moment where Bill manages to tempt him. No matter what Bill offers, no matter how long Bill offers, never, at ANY point, does Ford have a SECOND of "but what if I did make a deal with the devil?" the way so many heroes in similar situations often do.

You ever notice that? So often moral moments in the show are presented as choices the characters make. Will or won't Dipper give Bill a "puppet" in exchange for knowledge. Will or won't Stan fight a pterodactyl to protect Mabel's pig. Will or won't Mabel hand Bipper the journal. Ford is never given a "will or won't he" moment over Bill's threats, offers of friendship, or offers of infinite power—he steamrolls straight past them without a second of consideration—because, to him, the selfish, cowardly, easy choice ISN'T EVEN AN OPTION. He doesn't even SEE it as making a choice because the possibility of doing the wrong thing is invisible. A character who wavers first before turning Bill down would look more noble for "overcoming" temptation—it's harder to notice just how much stronger Ford's moral compass must be to not even feel temptation in the first place.

Greed and pride never tempt him to join Bill's side. Exhaustion, despair, and fear never tempt him to give up. He bears up under weeks, possibly months of extreme sleep deprivation, physical torture, psychological torture, emotional torture, threats of death, threats of brainwashing, threats to his family. He doesn't hold up so that he can pat himself on the back for being a hero—if that was all it was he would've gone "screw it, this isn't worth it and nobody would know I'm the one who gave up" a week in—he does it because he simply knows it must be done and because he's so isolated (half because of Bill's influence!) that he believes he's the one who must do it, all alone.

Thinking he has to do it by himself isn't egotism or pride; it's helplessness. He thinks no one else stands a chance. He thinks he's alone.

And, when he discovers his Portal To Knowledge is a Portal To Doom, he immediately feels guilty. No trying to deny the situation to protect his ego. No shuffling the blame off to someone else. No "maybe the apocalypse could have a silver lining!" No locking the door and trying to ignore the problem. He blames himself for being fooled—he IMMEDIATELY takes full responsibility for his actions—and he CONTINUES to take responsibility FOR THE NEXT THIRTY YEARS.

He takes more responsibility than is even warranted—he treats himself like he's an idiot for believing in an APPARENT GOD who's been practicing manipulating humans for thousands of years and who had never given Ford reason to believe the portal was anything but what Bill said it was. He beats himself up to no end every single time his past with Bill comes up. He even keeps beating himself up thirty years later when he's shoving warning notes to future readers in Bill's evil unkillable book!

When he falls into the multiverse, he dedicates his entire life NOT to finding a way to rescue himself, but to finding a way to permanently stop the CHAOS GOD who's still at the threshold of destroying Ford's world and countless others. He makes himself a hated criminal in the process, just to stop Bill. He's ready to spend the rest of his life trying to protect a world he doesn't think he'll ever see again. He does it because, as he sees it, somebody has to stand in between the children and the obnoxious folklore cryptid menacing them, and he's the only adult in this damn cave with the skills and knowledge for the job.

When he gets home, he doesn't tell his family about Bill and his quest because he's afraid that doing so will get them involved and endanger them too—and because he's too deeply ashamed of himself and his mistakes to stand the thought of his family knowing about the horrible things he's done (AGAIN, WHILE BEING MANIPULATED BY THE GOD OF MANIPULATION).

He loves his great-niece and great-nephew the second he lays eyes on them; he nevertheless tries to steer away from them to keep them safe from Bill; and yet he caves to the very first temptation to emotionally bond with his great-nephew he gets, because in spite of his noble "keep them safe" intentions, he wants so so badly to be close to his family.

As pissed as he still is at Stan and even though neither of them can look at each other without hissing like cats, he still makes an attempt to start bridging their divide by inviting him to play DD&MD.

When the apocalypse happens, he immediately puts his life on the line to try to kill Bill.

And when he's captured, isn't fazed for a second by Bill's offers or threats... until his family is threatened. The exact thing he'd been trying to avoid & prevent from the very start.

And when he's reunited with Fiddleford, his immediate reaction is to point out that Fiddleford's well within his rights to hate him—which isn't a new revelation, it's not like Ford had to do any soul-searching to reach this conclusion, he'd concluded that 30 years ago the instant he realized Bill had played him and that he'd been lied to about Fiddleford.

And then he tries to kill Bill again.

And then he's ready to sacrifice his own life to kill Bill—and the only reason he doesn't is because he has a metal plate preventing him from making the sacrifice... but, Stan doesn't have a plate. If Ford hadn't had the metal plate, he would have gladly done the exact same thing Stan did—and he would have thought it was right for him and only him to make that sacrifice, because it's VERY clear he feels (and has felt from the start) that this is all his fault and he's obligated to fix it.

Over and over and over, these are Ford's two defining character traits: getting so pissed off at injustice that his common sense shuts off and he goes into terminator mode until he's righted this wrong as best he can, even when he can't actually do anything about it; and feeling like he's Atlas, weighed down with the full responsibility of fixing everything he's done wrong and made to believe that, for everyone else's sake, he has to do it all alone. Even when doing so puts himself in harm's way, even when he has to put his entire life on hold for it, even if it might cost him his life. Scrape off his awkward social skills, his loneliness, his nerdiness, his endless curiosity, his zealous love of the strange, his starry ambitions, his yearning for recognition and success—scrape his personality down to the bone and that's what you're left with. A man who believes in defending the exploited so strongly that it makes him a little stupid.

I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume that you probably don't think Stan's fundamentally a bad person, and that you probably think that isn't even worth questioning. Stan's made a whole career out of swindling people, conning them out of as much money as he possibly can, stealing, lying, committing a long list of goofily-named crimes, and attempting douchy pick-up artistry on women; and to cap it all off, he held the safety of the entire universe hostage to demand a goddamn "thank you." Don't send me any "But he had reasons—" "But it was only to—" I don't need it, I don't want the essay, I'm not arguing that Stan's a bad guy, it's fine.

But. You can look at Stan's moments of cruelty and unkindness, his uncharitable thoughts, his character flaws, and think, "that doesn't define him. He's more than his cruelest moments and worst mistakes. He's imperfect, but he cares so much and his heart's in the right place, and beneath all the flaws his core is good."

And if you can't do the same for Ford, it's not because he's a worse person. It's because we got two seasons with Stan and five and a half episodes with Ford—and while we saw Stan yearning to fish with the kids or encouraging Mabel to whoop Pacifica's butt at minigolf or crying over a black and white period drama or punching zombies to save his family, we only saw Ford at the worst moments in his life and under the stress of a prolonged apocalyptic crisis—and, it so happens, all the moments he was pissed at the guy we spent two seasons learning to love.

Ford's got moments of cruelty and unkindness, uncharitable thoughts, and character flaws. But, at his core, he's a good person, and he always has been, and he still is.

#anonymous #ask #gravity falls #grunkle ford #ford pines #(note to self: when you see an ask that makes you go 'god i don't wanna get into this; i'll type something quick & punchy and move on'—)#(—do NOT start typing something 'quick & punchy' when your adhd meds are wearing off.)#(they WILL last just long enough for you to snap into a hyperfocus but not long enough for you to have the power to stop typing.)#(i'm thirsty.)#meta

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justatypicalwizard · 2 days

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Katsuki doesn't believe in love at first sight

Katsuki never believed in love at first sight. How could someone meet eyes and feel as if a thunder ruptured down from the skies and struck them? To love someone means to accept every part of them and to be able to incorporate them into your everyday life. It means building a brand new everyday with that person.

In order to do so you need to know a lot about them. Who they are, what are their plans for the future, what is their character and so on. Then you need to see if you are compatible in many spheres. You need to invite them to your friends group to see if it’ll hit off, you should try living together, they need to get to know your parents.

There are simply so many things to check off the list in order to be able to say you love someone. Otherwise it’s just empty words. I love you here and there. I love you for a week. I love you when you do as I please. Bullshit.

Mina constantly pestered Katsuki that his definition of love feels more like a chore or a job interview than like something a human would be able to accomplish. It wasn’t his fault he had some standards everyone else seemed to lack.

So even now Katsuki doesn’t like to admit that he fell in love at first sight, because it wasn’t the first time when he looked at you.

A quiet ping of his phone tore him out of his work. A new message from someone he didn’t recognise. Without much thought he opened the text.

[Hi, you may not know me but we go to the same lecture on Wednesday at 1 PM. I heard you have neat notes and wanted to ask if it wouldn’t be a problem if you send me today’s ones. I got sick and couldn’t come and I wouldn’t want to fall behind with the material. Thanks!]

Geez, was there a longer way to type it? Couldn’t you just write: can you give me notes? On the other hand he always complained about people being douchebags.

Clicking onto your profile Katsuki saw a cheesy photo and a few posts from your daily life and vacations. Nothing much to be honest. Yet, he could vaguely remember your face around the people who entered the lecture hall. It won’t hurt to help.

[Sure]

[File attached]

Pushing his phone to the far end of his desk he went back to work. A few minutes later there was another quiet ding and this time Katsuki felt irritation bubbling inside him. It was you once again.

[Thank you so much!]

[I owe you]

[If you ever need anything feel free to write]

Whatever.

It only took a week for Katsuki to be indeed looking for help from someone. Once in a while, during his hero training, he was forced to pair up with someone in order to work on his rescue skills. Usually they’d use dummies but some fucktard in the course planning team decided that it would be most helpful if the students could train with a real human.

Normally Katsuki would ask Mina. He’d swallow his pride and force himself to listen to her babbling for two hours. Just to get it done. Unfortunately, Mina dumped him today, leaving only a [sorry, not feeling well, find someone else]. Damned flu season.

Who was he supposed to ask now, Denki?

As he scrolled down his chats, your profile pic flew by making Katsuki halt.

If you ever need anything feel free to write.

Screw it, you said it yourself, might as well find a person already and move on with his day. He typed a quick explanation and pushed the send button. The day was nearing the afternoon when you responded.

[Sure, if it’s two hours I can make it. Send me when and where I should be]

He shrugged and gave you the address for today's training.

In the early evening Katsuki found himself trotting towards his usual fighting ground absentmindedly. He was thinking about something related to work at Miruko’s when the idea flew out of his head. You were there, he could see you from afar, walking in circles in front of the main door.

Were you an idiot? It was the middle of winter and the early evening cold tore through layers of warm coats to sink into your bones. Why weren’t you entering the building to warm up a bit.

That’s why Katsuki is so stubborn about the whole love at first sight thing. It certainly wasn’t that exact moment when his heart skipped a beat because of you. You were shivering, hiding your chin and red tinted cheeks deeper into the collar of your winter coat. When you spotted him you reached out a gloved hand and waved.

“What the fuck are you doing outside, get in there or you’ll catch another cold.” He persisted, ushering you towards the entrance.

“Wow, good evening to you too.” You looked at him from under your woollen hat, surprised to get yelled at first thing you see him. Though, you did hear the upcoming pro-hero Dynamite, who went to the same lecture as you, was rather intense. “I don’t know, this place just looks fancy. Didn’t want to stand inside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“So you stood outside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“Exactly.”

He let you in and showed you around. After leaving your coat and getting a warm tea (his idea), you were ready to help with his training. The support students and university staff running around asked you to take off any unnecessary piece of clothing such as jewellery or sweaters that could get in the way. You gladly went through with their instructions.

You b-lined another student, a senior support course, who showed you the place where you’d be waiting to be rescued. The spacious arena was moulded into the shape of a city. Some buildings were fine, others rundown as if a villain attack rolled over them. There were paveways and roads, streetlamps and plastic trees. You even spotted a car, though it didn’t look like it could take off anytime soon.

“It will look the same over and over. You sit or lie down in the place where I leave you and wait for your hero.” Your guide briefed the rules. “And every time pick out a different scenario and tie the band in the place that is put on it.” He handed you a dozen of ribbons with small notes attached to them. The first one you grabbed read: broken arm (tie around elbow).

“Sure.” You nodded your head and he left you on the second floor of a wannabe office building. There were a few chairs scattered around and a table that had a weird bite mark on it. You obediently wrapped the band around your arm and sat down on the floor, waiting.

You wondered how it’ll be, to get fake rescued. You were never in such a situation, always watching the villains from the comfort of your TV rather than first hand. What was Dynamite’s quirk? Suddenly you felt stupid for not knowing. On the other hand, you were never up to date with new heroes and all the popularity polls or colourful magazines. Guess you’d just have to wait and see.

Katsuki didn’t leave you for long. You were counting the pieces of shattered glass beneath your feet when a series of explosions passed beside the building. The small pieces you were meticulously adding shook and you let out a squeak when something heavy hit the wall behind you.

“Shut up, it's me.” Craning your neck, you saw Dynamite’s face, upside down, looking at you. He was halfway through the window. “What have you got?”

“God, you scared me.” You chuckled but quickly shut your mouth. The guide asked you to play the best victim you can. Victims shouldn’t laugh.

Dynamite hopped in front of you and crouched to read the note attached to your elbow. He mumbled something in the lines of fucking scenario and looked you straight in the eye.

“I’m gonna get you out of here.”

There wasn’t anything dramatic going on, it was even quiet outside save for a few shouts here and there. Yet, there was just something in a bulked man looking at you and promising you protection, one secured by his own arms. You felt like the guy from the firefighters video.

You couldn’t stop the giggle at the thought.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Dynamite spat.

“Nothing, nothing.” You shook your hands in front of your still laughing face. “Oh shit, this one’s supposed to be broken. Okay, just save me already.” You really fought with the snicker but the cheesiness and awkwardness of the whole situation had you in a chokehold.

“Whatever.” The hero sighed, visibly annoyed, and scooped you into his hands like a sack of potatoes. “I’ll need you to wrap your legs around me. Push the broken arm into my chest and use your healthy one to hold onto me.”

You did as instructed and glued yourself to him as tight as you could. He still held you with one of his arms and just when you started to wonder how the two of you would get down from the second floor he jumped out of the window.

A scream escaped your lips but it was muffled by a loud explosion.

For the next two hours you flew through the air in Dynamite’s hands over and over again. He held you in different ways, depending on your supposed injury, but every time you landed into the safe zone, you realised you were the first or nearly the first. That guy was quick like hell.

The last scenario rolled over and it was a panic attack. You were supposed to be physically fine but otherwise unresponsive and difficult to work with due to your shock. Dynamite tried to take extra steps to calm you down, speaking about how he’ll take you to safety and how it will all be over in a second. It looked like he was having a hard time.

“I need to touch you to take you somewhere safe.” He said, wrapping one of his hands around you.

When you were both at the safe zone, with cardboard paramedics to take care of you, Dynamite did something different. Instead of leaving you in the place where the group of injured would grow, he carried you straight to the ambulance.

“She has a panic attack.” He said to the empty fake vehicle and you just couldn’t take any more of it. You erupted in a fit of laughter. Your body shook in his hands and you gripped the X on his uniform to steady yourself. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You tried to explain but the laughter squeezed your throat. “I’m a shitty actor.”

“I see that.” Dynamite grumbled.

“Do you really need to talk to cardboard people and empty vehicles for two hours every week?” You asked, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“Is it really that fucking funny?”

“No, no! I get it.” You finally calmed down, letting go of the front of his costume. “It’s not that funny, maybe a bit but not that much. I think I’m just in a good mood.” You shrug your shoulders. “It was fun, flying with you, like a free rollercoaster ride.” You gave him a big, big smile. A big genuine smile. A big, genuine, lovely smile, with your eyes closed and teeth out and cheeks tinted pink.

People are stupid. That’s what Katsuki thinks. It’s not love at first sight. It’s love because of a single sight.

Even though Katsuki came to some fundamental conclusions in the topic of love he would get all defensive and intense when he was asked about how the two of you met. It would sound way better if he could say the two of you met, then started to talk more, then went on a date and agreed to meet each other and so on. He just felt so stupid, so awkward and silly when he had to admit that all it took for you was a single smile to make his heart skip a beat.

The worst part? It felt a little pathetic honestly, as if people never smiled at him, but truthly they didn’t, not like that. Not like you.

Katsuki still doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Yet, every other piece of his meticulously calculated equation of love was torn down and rewritten, all of which he gladly took.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #mha #bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #college au

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