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pearlessance · 4 months ago

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Killshot, Baby! —part one

summary: nanami kento is a meticulous man; calm, stable, and precise. a perfect antithesis to your messy, impulsive ways. the longer you're around him, the more you're convinced you'll never agree on anything. well…except for the way you fuck.

pairing: brat tamer!nanami x fem!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, 10 year age gap (reader is 18, nanami is 28), fingering, dirty talk, pussy pronouns, use of 'little girl' as a pet name, cum eating, semi-public, praise, size kink, hair pulling, brat taming, reader has added backstory to progress the plot

wc: 3.8k

note: this is my first ever jjk fic pls be niceee :') not sure how many parts this will be, rn I'm thinking like 5-8 but we will see!! heavily influenced by the song killshot by magdalena bay!! tysm for reading i love u <3

[masterlist] [read on AO3!]

Places like this make your skin crawl.

Even knowing you need to assimilate yourself to the glitz and glamour of it all, you just can’t shake the turning of your stomach as you watch drops of top-shelf liquor spill over the rims of glass tumblers. Liquid splashes that cost more than a day’s pay for someone less well-off than every person in that room.

When you step out onto the balcony, the air feels icy against your too-warm skin. The city lights twinkle in the distance, disturbing the black of night and shining too brightly to grant you the luxury of seeing the stars.

You wonder what time it is, wonder if curfew still applies for an event like this. And if it does, you’ll surely catch a reprimanding from Yaga in the morning even if Gojo takes the brunt of it. Maki’s incessant questioning that’s sure to come when you step back into the dormitories might be an even worse fate, though.

“It gets to be a bit overwhelming, doesn’t it?” His smooth voice startles you.

Overwhelming is a cordial way of putting it, you think. “Suffocating might be a better word.”

He huffs. Not quite a laugh, but a sound of agreement nonetheless. The shadows in the dark corner of the balcony keep you from getting a good look at him. You can only make out a handful of features—a few strands of blonde hair that have gone rogue from the combed, slicked-back style, falling rebelliously in front of his warm eyes. The tan slacks he wears look expensive and pressed, a stark contrast to the wrinkles in his white button-up. The sleeves are rolled casually to his elbows, and the moonlight reflects off the crystal face of his watch.

There’s something about him that feels…familiar. A strange sort of sameness. And despite the way he exudes the same lavish energy that everyone else at the party does, you can’t help but feel like he’s somehow different than they are. Maybe it’s because you’re seemingly the only two who are struggling to find enjoyment in the reception.

“That bad, hm?” He stands from his seat in the corner and joins you at the railing. Even bent over with his forearms on the stainless steel edge he looms over you; a powerful, menacing presence. A man with an iron grip on control. “Which part, exactly, feels so asphyxiating?”

His voice sends a shiver down your spine. But maybe it’s just the chill in the air. “All of it,” you admit. “The gluttony. The carelessness. Everyone is so out of touch with reality. It’s like they become so absorbed with all the extravagance, they forget most people struggle to make ends meet. Ten minutes out of the city a mother is working eighty hours a week and still having difficulty feeding her children, and they’re drinking bottles of whiskey that cost more than she gets paid in a month.”

Your gaze focuses on his long fingers as he interlocks them together. “You don’t think those with money deserve to enjoy it?”

When you roll your eyes it feels involuntary, like second nature. “There’s a difference between enjoying it and flaunting it. I’ve never met Nanami Kento, but he seems like a real asshole.”

This time he does laugh. And the smile that stretches across his face, revealing a row of perfectly straight, pearly white teeth, is nothing short of debilitating. He’s beautiful, achingly so. And the deep, baritone sound of his laughter stirs something strange and warm in your chest.

You continue, asking, “How much do you think it cost him to host something like this? I mean, all together. The drinks, the food, the pay for the waiters, all of it. Even that ridiculous fucking ice sculpture.” He’s still grinning, and as you animatedly speak you can feel the heavy weight of his stare on the side of your face. It makes your cheeks burn. “My guess? Two million yen. Easily.”

“That seems a bit much,” he says. “It’s not that extravagant, is it? It’s being hosted in his home, after all.”

“Yeah, his penthouse,” you say with disdain. “What’s your guess, then? How much do you think was spent on this asshole’s little soiree?”

He seems to contemplate for several seconds, turning his head to the view of the city. His profile is breathtaking; all chiseled jaw and Greek nose and lush lips. You have to fight the urge to reach out and touch him, to feel the barely-there stubble along his cheek beneath your fingers. “One and half million,” he says.

This time you’re the one who laughs. It’s the first time you’ve done so all night, despite being promised otherwise. “As if that’s any better,” you say. “If he donated even half of what he spent to host a party like this, it could change someone’s life.”

“I suppose that’s true. But maybe you’re wrong about the reason he’s gone to such extremes. Maybe it’s less about flaunting it and more about filling his home with people. Giving them an excuse to come here.”

“Why would anyone want this many people in their home? Making a mess, pouring their money down the drain? It’s not like this kind of luxury comes easily. He might be an asshole but he’s certainly a hard-working one. Why blow it on something as insignificant as a party?”

His answer comes quickly. “Loneliness.”

He says it with such conviction it’s as if he’s speaking from experience. And you suppose he very well could be. Standing in that crowd, not knowing a single soul apart from the one who’d dragged you here and promptly abandoned you, speaking empty words to people who won’t remember your name tomorrow—it had made you feel lonely, too. Lonely enough to step outside, to find comfort in the quiet as the beautiful man beside you had. “Maybe he should get himself a girlfriend,” you suggest.

“Maybe he should.” The lightheartedness returns to the conversation the second he smiles at you. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“That’s because I never gave it to you.” Your teasing seems to please him.

His stare is intense, flickering between your eyes and the clear gloss on your lips. You want him to lean in and taste the cherry flavor. “What should I call you, then?”

You shrug, turning to face him fully, leaning against the balcony’s steel railing. It brings you just a little closer to him. Close enough to inhale the woodsy scent of his cologne. It makes you feel dizzy, makes you feel drunk. You say, “Whatever you want.” And mean it.

This is dangerous, you know. Standing out here alone with an older man, a stranger to you. Away from any semblance of safety. He could do anything to you right now and you’d have no way of fighting him off. He’s too big, too strong. And the worst part, you think, is that you’d just let it happen. That you wouldn’t even mind.

He reaches out and touches your cheek—a gentle, respectful caress. Despite the innocence, it leaves nothing but sinful thoughts swirling in your head. You lean into his touch, trying to ignore the way goosebumps rise over your skin.

“You’re a strange little girl,” he mutters. His voice slides through your center, sultry and captivating. You’re not sure if he’s complimenting you or not. It feels kind. Affectionate, even. But you can’t fully decide because your brain begins to short-circuit, hung up on the way the words little girl sounds in his tantalizing mouth.

“Strange is better than boring,” you tell him.

“You could never be boring.” There’s that conviction again. So sure of himself. Confident, steadfast, and solid. You wonder silently what that must be like.

Since learning you housed a rare ability to use cursed energy, there hasn’t been a single moment where you’re sure of who you are. But…right now, feeling the heat radiate off his skin, you think maybe you know what you want. “You don’t know me.”

“I want to, though.” The response is quick. Final. He presses his palm flat against your jaw, cradling your face, and slides it slowly to the nape of your neck. The friction feels intense. Heightened.

Your breath comes slow and labored, a conscious effort now. And you figure if he can touch you, that you can touch him back. But it’s less for enjoyment and more for necessity as you place a hand against his chest, feeling the softness of his cotton button-up beneath your palm. The way he looks at you makes your knees tremble. And he’s the solid, magnetic force you need to keep yourself upright.

“Pretty dress,” he says. It’s revealing, more so than you’d realized in the dressing room. Low cut and shimmery and pale pink—your favorite color. His warm eyes pierce yours as his free hand comes to your hip, resting against the textured sequins. “Expensive. Indulgent.”

He’s trying to call your bluff, you know. But your dislike for over extravagance is sincere and though he’s shaken your once calm equilibrium, it satisfies you to know he’ll never dissuade you in this singular thing. “I didn’t buy it.”

“No?” He fists the fabric, pulling the already too-short edge up higher. “Who did, then? Your boyfriend?”

My teacher. You don’t have the nerve to say it, though. Don’t have the words, patience, or breath to explain that Gojo gave you his shiny black card and insisted you find something worthy of tonight’s event. You find evasion an easier line of conversation. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

He fists more of the fabric, hiking it higher—inch by devastating inch. The air is cool against your exposed thigh, but it’s hard to notice. You can’t see or hear or feel anything but the way his deft fingertips stroke the lace edge of your panties, a teasing caress. “How…fortunate.”

Your pulse rings in your ears. Warmth builds between your thighs with the promise of his touch that seems to be all-knowing and omnipresent. He presses into the softness just beneath your navel and you can feel the pressure down to your toes. His presence is somehow even more smothering than the energy inside, but this is…different. Hot.

Every nerve ending in your body flares on edge when he slides his hand between your legs, the pad of his middle finger ghosting over your center. Your lips part and your eyelids flutter closed. Separated by only a thin layer of lace, you can feel the heat of him and have to fight the urge to rock your hips against his hand. When he speaks, the words come out strained. “I need to know that you want this.”

There’s never been anything you’ve wanted more, you think. And you decide to tell him, to let the honesty bleed through, but then he’s moving his hand again, caressing your pussy with deft fingers. He does it with intention—a meticulous discovery of your body, preserving it forever in memory. It's such an intimate touch that it leaves you feeling open, chafed raw. All you can manage is a meek but resolute nod of your head in answer.

But it’s not enough for him. With such decorum, he says, “Use your words, sweetheart. Please.” It’s so polite it makes you ache.

You have to crane your neck just a little to look him right in the eye, but you do it anyway because you want him to see the truth. Want him to see just how bad you mean it when you say, “I want you.”

The corners of his lips turn up into a sinful smirk. And before you have time to catch your breath, before you can process just how unbearably handsome he looks with the city lights reflected in his honeyed hair, he’s slipping his hand into your panties and finding out for himself just how bad you want him.

He separates your folds and finds your clit with expert precision, already wet and messy for him. Everywhere, all at once—he’s everywhere. His other hand rests firmly on the back of your neck, his body pressing against yours. He’s all you can see, all you can smell, all you can taste. The moment he begins circling the throbbing bud your spine arches, pleasure filling you with each calculated movement. “Oh, god.”

You spread your legs further for him, allowing even more access. The steel of his silver watch is biting cold against the too-warm inside of your thighs, the only sensation keeping you tethered to the Earth.

But any attempted salvation is shattered to pieces the moment he presses a finger into you, curling upwards as if he has known your body for far longer than just the night. “Fuck—”

“Language,” he quickly chastises. He slides his hand on the back of your neck into your hair and pulls, forcing you to stare up at him. It is so nearly like punishment, except he adds another finger inside you to join the first which feels much closer to a reward. The stretch is bliss, and you can feel your slick dripping down his thick knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. And you’re not even sure why, but an apology just feels right. Feels good. But not as good as it feels when he presses hard against that soft spot inside you, quickly finding a rhythm that has sweat beading at your hairline. “I’m sorry,” you say again, because all other words have vacated your brain.

He quickens the pace, fingers drawing out obscene moans from your chest. You wish he would kiss you. You want to feel the pressure of his lips against yours, want to taste the inside of his mouth. But you can’t bring yourself to ask for it, can’t bring yourself to do anything but watch him watch you.

There’s this look in his eye that makes your heart stutter in your chest. Like he holds something more than divine in his hands. As if you’re not just some girl at a party but some god-like creature instead. You feel warm under his intensity. Burned.

And when he speaks, his voice is so sultry and deep that you whimper. “S’that feel good? Right there?”

“Yes, yes—please, don’t stop.” You don’t even recognize your own voice. Can barely hear the way you beg for him over the ringing in your ears, permeated only by the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you.

It’s rehearsed. Practiced. It takes just seconds before you start to feel yourself pull tight, straining against the unforgiving pace he sets. You're a gasping, desperate mess, and he seems to find such joy in it. Grinning down at you, forearm flexing in exertion, veins protruding from his wrist. He curls his fingers inside of you and positions his thumb so that it passes over your throbbing clit with each stroke. “You’re so pretty,” he says. “Do you know how pretty you are, little girl?”

“I—God—I’m gonna cum, I—”

“Yeah,” he coos, tone affectionate and tender. “I know it. Can feel this sweet pussy squeezing me so tight. She needs it bad, doesn't she? Hm?”

He thrusts his fingers into you hard—once, twice, and then your thighs begin to shake. Your fists tighten, knuckles paling as you grip the soft fabric of his button-up. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs and then it’s all happening at once, pleasure exploding beneath your skin.

You bite back your moans, trying not to think about the throng of the party just inside. Your entire body vibrates beneath his unyielding movements, slick walls squeezing and pulsing around his thick fingers. You don’t tell him but it’s like he just knows. “There you go,” he whispers, pressing his lips into your hair. “That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it. You’re doing so well. Let it happen, jus’ let it happen.”

Earth-shattering. Liquid pools in the palm of his hand and trickles down the inside of your thighs, soaking through the lace fabric, but he keeps you upright on trembling legs. Fucks you through it with those magical fingers of his, and doesn’t stop until tears prick the corners of your eyes. He slows, massaging that sacred spot inside of you just a few times more before slowly sliding his fingers out. When he holds them up between you, shiny and glistening with your slick, you can’t fight off the way your cheeks burn.

It isn’t until this precise moment that you realize he’s breathing hard, the only chink in his armor of composure thus far. In all your life, in all your experience, it’s never felt quite like that.

Yet still, even more satiated than you’ve ever been, you feel your clit throb as he presses his middle and ring finger into his mouth and sucks them clean. “I…” You what?

Words evade you. You want to tell him how good it was, want to get on your knees and repay the favor, want to tell him your name. But his stare is intense and intimidating and—

The balcony door slides open and you both move quickly—stepping away from each other, smoothing the wrinkles out of your clothes.

Your heart races behind your sternum as Gojo steps out, all-black suit pristine save for the unbuttoned coat. “Nanami! I was just coming to find you to introduce you to our very special student, but it seems you’ve found her all on your own.”

Nanami?

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him wipe the hand that was inside you seconds ago on the back of his slacks. “Satoru,” he greets cooly.

Suddenly the balcony feels more suffocating than the unruly party inside. For a single second, the thought crosses your mind that you could jump right off the edge of the railing without a moment’s regret.

Gojo shoves his hands into his pockets and speaks with an airy tone, but you can’t hear him over the ringing in your ears.

Kento Nanami.

The reason you’re here. The man who’d invited you. The man who’s hosting this party.

Every second that’s passed since you stepped foot onto the balcony flashes through your brain. All the terrible things you’d said about him, every word of agreement he’d uttered back. Every signal, every sign he’d given you to shut the fuck up, and somehow you’d missed every single one and just kept on talking.

Guilt slithers down your spine, settles in your gut, and makes a home inside. You’d meant it, though. Every single word you’d said. But you’d never meant to say it to him, had never intended to be cruel.

And then you proceeded to let him touch you without an ounce of resistance.

A grade one sorcerer, someone you should be learning from, someone you should revere…and you’d let him stuff you with his fingers before even knowing his fucking name. Begged him for it, even.

He’d licked them clean.

Gojo says your name, pulling you out of your head and back into the conversation. “Are you alright? You seem a bit…out of it.”

“Fine,” you answer too quickly for it to sound convincing. “I’m fine, sorry. It’s just…late. What did you say?” You try to ignore the sticky feeling between your thighs to no avail.

“We’re going to head back now,” Gojo repeats. “If we stay much later I worry Ijichi might send out a search party for us.”

You’ve never been more ready to leave than you are right this second. You turn to Nanami and nod politely. “It was…uhm. Nice to meet you, sir.”

There’s nothing else to say, so you don’t. Pushing past Gojo and back inside, you weave your way through the moving crowd of people, trying to find the front door. It takes longer than you anticipated, but once you’re walking down the long penthouse hallway to the all-glass elevator you start to feel your shoulders dropping.

You recognize the pattern of Gojo’s long strides easily, and he catches up to you just as the elevator doors slide open.

Ever the gossip, he’s making insinuations as soon the two of you step inside and begin the timely descent. “That was the most awkward thing I’ve ever witnessed. What the hell happened between you two?”

“Nothing.”

“Right…”

“I mean it,” you insist. Because you might be older than the other students and Jujutsu High, but the last thing you’d ever want to do is put Nanami in a position to be ridiculed. He didn’t know. And you didn’t, either. “Nothing happened.”

“Oh, okay,” he says, voice holding a sarcastic edge. “Nothing happened. That’s why you had this look on your face like you were trying really hard to make yourself spontaneously combust. Right, right. Sounds like nothing.”

“Sounds like nothing because it was nothing.”

He sighs dramatically, turning to fully face you. “I can keep a secret. You know that. Just tell me now and we never have to talk about it again, I swear.”

You stand stone still, lips sealed firmly shut.

Gojo presses his hands together and juts out his bottom lip, and you wonder how the fuck you’d ended up here. Watching your mentor—a grown man—pout like a child for a scrap of information.

With a roll of your eyes, you say, “We can stop at that mochi place tonight if you never speak of it again.”

“Deal.”

He stays true to his word, and you stay true to yours.

When Gojo told you all about it on the way to the party, you’d thought he’d been exaggerating the decadence of the treat, but it truly was the best you’d ever had. You return to the dormitories with kinako dusted fingers, and Gojo doesn’t ask about Nanami again.

You think, hope, that it’s the end of it. Hope that when you inevitably cross paths with Kento Nanami again, you’ll be able to act professionally. You’ll put this calamity behind you, never to be repeated, and absorb the knowledge he can provide about wielding cursed energy like a blade.

But when you wake up the following morning, Maki’s pounding on your bedroom door, holding a bouquet of white flowers in a pale pink crystalline vase. There’s a white, lace ribbon tied around the center of it with a hand-written note attached. The penmanship is meticulous. Precise.

It reads, Thank you for the perspective. Apologies for the overindulgence. -K.

Maki’s brows are raised and her eyes are wide. She pushes you back into your room and seals you both inside. “Talk.”

taglist; @maybe-a-bi-witch @zeunys @mima0127 @unicornflutter

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ambunyun · 8 months ago

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DC x DP Prompt (2)

Danny becomes a dreamwalker, and gains another complicated relationship.

It was no secret that Danny had a rocky and awkward relationship with his rogue gallery, especially after his coronation to become the Ghost King. Imagine the faces his enemies made when they learned that baby half-ghost they used to brawl with was now the Eternal Majesty and effectively their boss.

That was mostly how Danny, in a display of abuse of authority, made Nocturn agreed to help him enter a specific person's dream. More specifically, the dream of one Timothy Drake-Wayne.

It all started when Danny got his scholarship to Gotham University after finishing high school. Finally leaving his ghost-fighting life in Amity Park behind, although he still had to fulfill his duty as the Ghost King.

In his first year at Gotham U, he met none other than the Tim Drake - local celebrity, son of billionaire, genius - as his classmate.

Here's the thing, Danny made Tim extremely sleepy for some reasons.

For one, the air around Danny was chill. Unlike the biting cold of winters, this felt more like the cooling of an air conditioner on a summer day. Which made thing way too comfortable, his body just kept dozing off whenever this strange boy was around, like an animal ready for hibernation.

For two, being the Ghost King meant that Danny had the traces of all the Ancients on him. Including Nocturn's trace as the Ancient of Dream, which induced sleep. This was usually unnoticeable when you were awake, but if you were someone who overworked themselves to the limit of consciousness and survived purely of caffein and energy drinks like Tim did, it got much more effective.

So from Tim's perspectice, Danny was just one big sleep-inducing spell. And this was really ticking him off. He kept falling asleep in the middle of classes, or when he needed to concentrate on a vital case during study time. It was almost impossible to focus when Danny was around, everything was just so relaxing.

The batfam was overjoyed thinking that Tim had finally fixed his broken sleeping habits. In reality, this just made Tim even more paranoid and drank even more caffein than before.

Danny, being someone who had listened to Jazz's rants about the effect of lack of sleep on the mind for all his youth, immediately recognized Tim's worsening symtomps when he saw them. Strangely, whenever he approached Tim to give some advice, the boy just paled and skedaddled away as if he'd seen a ghost (hehe).

So, in true Danny's fashion, he asked Nocturn for help putting a poor classmate to proper sleep. He even manifested himself as the Ghost King in Tim's dream to ease the boy through the process.

This escalated when Tim accidentally developed a crush on Danny in his dreams and was now concerned if he had just developed a crush on a supernatural being in his dream. Or if he had just developed a crush on a figment of his imagination (he couldn't decide which was worse).

Danny was completely unaware of this and patted himself on the back for helping someone while Tim had a crisis.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #danny fenton #dp crossover #dead tired #dead tired ship #ghost king danny

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notsorryiml8 · 2 months ago

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Thoughts that pop into my mind before bed. And a possible hot take. 🤷🏽‍♀️

So, a lot of people say that Kakashi was this brainwashed little lap dog of Konoha because of his unrelenting loyalty. And that’s why they don’t like him. Fair enough - you don’t have to like him.

But was he a lap dog, tho? I’m sure someone has mentioned it before, and I’m not the first, but his passive aggressive white-haired behind protested the establishment from the day Obito died.

I know it’s like, huh?!

From a cultural perspective, Kishimoto is from Japan. A country which is known for its structure and adherence to norms, especially punctuality. He created Kakashi, who from the day Obito met The Rock, said I’m going to be late for EVERYTHING! Not just minutes late, but HOURS late. He intentionally created him to be outside the norm.

Meh, I know, ok, ok, so Konoha isn’t necessarily Japan and they may do things differently. Let’s let that slide. People are born with pink, white, and blue hair there and they’re currently fighting aliens and cyborgs. So really can’t compare. Cool. But even in this fictional world his lateness was an outlier and considered rude.

Okay, but hello, Kakashi is also in the military. Ain’t no military in the world, fictional or real, gonna put up with blatant disrespect for time. I’m from a military family and there’s an old military saying that goes, “early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable.” You just don’t.

Kakashi really doesn’t care. Hello? He was late to the Third, who happened to be his commanding officer, elder, and village leader’s, funeral. The ultimate disrespect. Why was he late? Because he was paying homage to his friends and father who were all dead in the name of the village who couldn’t care less about them. Kakashi blatantly disrespects and disregards everything the village stands for ALL THE TIME and that scene was the epitome. And he does it not so subtly. From being late to everything to reading erotica in public (*faints and clutches pearls*) to failing all previous kids in the academy that were sent to him, which is him saying he plays by his own rules not Konoha’s.

I think people forget how high ranking Kakashi is (literally only the jonin commander, the elders, and Hokage outrank him). In the war, he’d be the equivalent of a general. Put his actions into the perspective of his rank and you really will see how he spat in their faces.

They could have demoted him, stripped him of his rank. Kicked him out of the forces. Reprimanded him in other ways. Etc…but the reality was they couldn’t. He was their cash cow. With the Sannin gone, he was bringing in the most money for the village, so they had no choice but to let him do as he pleased and he knew that. So for as many people who say he was Konoha’s lap dog, Konoha was his.

But, wait, he could have left. Right?? Nope. Why’d the little punk stay and be loyal to a village that destroyed his life? Why? Because. He was anchored to that forsaken village by guilt. If he can’t leave those graves to show up on time for a funeral or to train his squad or go on a mission, then lawd knows he’s not leaving those graves permanently to go rogue. Even if they’re dead, his family and friends are there. As are his living ones. Even at his lowest, he wouldn’t/couldn’t leave them behind. Something…something… blah blah blah about being scum. So, he internally, as in within the confines of the village, and subtly went rogue on a daily with passive aggression, resistance, and defiance.

#Kakashi #kakashi hatake #Hatake Kakashi #kakakshi ramblings #Naruto #Naruto ramblings #hot take

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yanderes-galore · 19 days ago

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Pure vanilla with a darling who knew him as healer cookie.

Have fun with this one. Pick if it's headcanon, one shot or whatever.

There was two ways I could write this. You being a part of Gingerbrave's group or you being part of the Raisin Village. I decided to cover the second version after finishing the first one since the first one had more content.

Yandere! Pure Vanilla wirh Darling who knew him as Healer! Cookie

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Delusional behavior, Clingy behavior, Paranoia, Possessive behavior, Kidnapping, Isolation, Dubious/Forced relationship.

Ah, PV as Healer Cookie is such a sweet soul.

Iirc, Healer was the name PV took after being inflicted with amnesia.

Since the Dark Flour War he's become a nomad, soon settling in the Raisin Village to be their healer.

Being a healer is all he knows... All he remembers.

He doesn't mind... He enjoys seeing people happy when he heals them.

You most likely first met him while going to find the Vanilla Kingdom with Gingerbrave and the others.

You were injured due to a scuffle with some rogue Wafflebots and needed to he tended to.

Healer was quick to do so, taking you into a medical tent to work on healing you.

Your first meeting with each other is during an emergency... a life or death experience.

It... sticks with him more than it should.

Healer is very kind when he tends to you, often making sure you get food and water.

He tends to your companions too, although they seem more like children you're looking after since you're older....

Healer stays around you more though.

He feels oddly... drawn to you, especially in such a weak state.

He likes the idea of you needing him... of you trusting him.

Which... makes Healer a bit fond of you.

When he hears of your group's goal of exploring the reason behind the Wafflebot attacks, he nearly tries to dissuade you from pursuing it.

It's too dangerous with just you and your inexperienced crew!

At least let him come with you... He wants to help!

In reality... He wants to look after you.

This ends up with Black Raisin and Healer joining you all.

Black Raisin tried to say Healer was more needed in the village... Yet he declined.

He needed to come with you.

He needed to make sure you... and the others... are okay!

This was how the bond between you and Healer went.

As you traversed the lands leading to the old Vanilla Kingdom and fought monsters along the way... Healer provided support.

Whenever you got injured, Healer was always by your side to look over the nasty wounds.

Black Raisin may scold you for not being careful... But Healer always defends you, he's... protective.

You'd probably make the joke that he has a crush on you light-heartedly.

Which makes you notice the light pink tint on his face when you make the comment.

You reassure him you're just teasing, you just want to be playful.

But it still affects him more than you thought it would.

Imagine Healer, despite being an amnesiac, feeling drawn to you due to his old life.

As Pure Vanilla, he was surrounded by friends.

He was a caring hero and king in those days... surrounded by others he could trust.

I'd imagine your personality reminds him of one of his old friends, or maybe even a few of them....

You give the cookies you're traveling with a sense of direction... You help guide them from harm.

Healer doesn't like that sometimes that means putting yourself in danger...

But he still finds you just as endearing as his old companions.

Perhaps by the time you get to the Vanilla Kingdom, Healer starts to recover some memories.

He begins to realize just who he is... a great healer and leader who disappeared after the war....

He seems uneasy and tends to wander off to try and chase memories, but you always manage to catch up to him and ground him.

Maybe another thing that adds to his obsession is the fact you seem genuinely interested in who he was.

You're curious of Pure Vanilla, often asking Wizard Cookie about the history of this old kingdom.

You act like you look up to the ancient hero... Even going as far as to vow to protect your traveling companions.

It leaves Healer a bit flustered that you want to protect him...

Even more so when he realizes you looked up to and cherish him... He's that hero, after all.

Protecting you is in his instincts even when he doesn't have his memories.

No doubt partially because you remind him of the friends he once wanted to protect.

Essentially, I feel for most of your journey you're protecting Healer/PV.

You're caring for him and treating him like he's vulnerable, you're pampering him...

Some may view it as insulting to be treated as weak...

But Healer finds himself craving that care from you.

Things of course change when you encounter Dark Enchantress and Pure Vanilla is revealed.

By the end of the encounter you're left shocked.

The healer you were caring for... was the Pure Vanilla?

You don't have much time to fully process this before PV rushes over to you, a concerned look in his heterochromatic eyes.

He's looking you over for wounds, murmuring about how he hopes he protected his dear friends this time.

I have a feeling once his true identity is revealed, PV feels like he needs to 'repay' you or just 'protect' you.

He's a healer and protector at heart, a true hero meant to support.

But he takes it too far, of course.

He can never be normal about his feelings in these kinds of HCs.

You defended him in combat before... and you've shown that you're reckless when looking out for others.

Now that he's at his full strength due to obtaining his Soul Jam... It's about time he returns the favor.

Your journey would get more difficult as time goes on... Not only due to the stronger foes...

But also Pure Vanilla growing more... strange.

Since you encountered him at the Raisin Village and helped him get back to his old kingdom... He's been paranoid.

Even the sight of blood (jam?) just being on you sends PV into a spiral.

He knows he shouldn't be worried... That you're well looked after in your group... but...

Well... He can't help but think you'd be much safer with him.

He thinks back to your playful banter... how you said he might have feelings... how you protected him...

He wants to do the same... He felt safe around you... He wants you to feel safe around him too.

Then there's the alternative version of these HCs I thought of.

Instead of traveling with Gingerbrave, you're simply a citizen in Black Raisin Village.

For the longest time you've known Healer as a traveler who showed up here one day.

He'd treated everyone here at least once, all smiles as he eagerly sees to the wounds of your fellow villagers.

He's even treated you, you had gotten a few wounds from wild animals... or even crumbled a bit....

Healer made sure you didn't worry though, soothing you with medicine and wrapping your wounds.

He'd watch you day and night in the medical tent to heal, well... as much as he could with the bandages covering his face.

You appreciate him and everything he's done for you and your friends.

Such sentimentality ended up with you befriending the healer.

You two would often talk with one another, you even learned a few tips and tricks from Healer.

Perhaps your friendship even blooms into a mutual curiosity... leading to Healer falling for you.

You and Healer may even test your feelings one night.

While Healer finished tending to someone, you two had begun to talk.

You barely noticed his mostly innocent plotting... The healer blushing softly when you're around.

While you were distracted, probably by checking how much supplies he had, Healer pipes up.

"My friend... Look at me for a moment?"

By the time you turn, he kisses you softly.

It's soft, sweet... and tastes oddly like vanilla.

You remember such an encounter fondly since you had been curious about him too.

But before you could pursue something further, Healer left with some travelers to solve the Wafflebot problem.

You didn't mind, he had always wanted to make sure you were safe....

You didn't expect to see him again, that kiss and sweet night together no doubt a one time encounter.

Then... days later, someone came back.

The presence was... familiar yet foreign.

An ancient hero came back with the travelers, a smile on his face.

"My dear friends...! I’ve returned to offer you a new home...."

It's, of course... shocking to learn what your crush actually was.

Or... Who he was.

Pure Vanilla stands in his place, soon meeting you and looking rather excited.

"My dearest friend... I am sorry for leaving. Do not worry... I'll never leave you long ever again. Come... let me show you our new home~!"

Regardless of which story you meet... Pure Vanilla progressively gets obsessed over your safety and health.

Be it you leaving for missions... or himself doing it... It comes to a head eventually.

Imagine Pure Vanilla inviting you to his council room, claiming he has something to talk to you about.

It's not too out of the ordinary... Something PV just likes to speak with you over a drink or dinner.

You're a companion in his eyes.

He offers for you to sit in his council room once you arrive through the large doors, a nervous yet eager look on his face.

Then he asks you the question...

"How do you feel about me, my dearest? As in... Would you accept a proposal of mine?"

It confuses you, what was he asking?

'What kind of proposal?' You ask... making the hero clear his throat.

"I... wish to be your lover officially. I want you to marry me, my love... To be mine."

It's... a lot to ask. You have a feeling he knows that.

Yet even after you decline, the hero presses.

"No, my love... Please... consider it? I could give you everything... I'll protect you, I'll care for you, I'll love you... I just ask you to stay by me, in my kingdom, where I can watch you."

It soon becomes clear that his intentions are to... restrict you to his castle.

Even if you turn him down again, the hero seems a bit irritated.

"My love... I'm sorry... but I can't have you in danger anymore... You need me... I NEED you... I'm afraid I can't let you leave if you're not going to listen."

Pure Vanilla, while typically submissive compared to his fellow Ancients... is willing to be assertive when it comes to you.

He's seen you hurt... He's experienced special moments between you... Even if you say 'No' now...

He knows you're meant to be.

Imagine Pure Vanilla locking you in his castle, convinced you'll hurt yourself if you leave.

He's paranoid, in a constant anxious feedback loop when he doesn't have you close.

So he shares a room with you, one where he can make sure you're safe and comfortable.

His past where he failed to protect his friends certainly doesn't help... his past trauma corrupting the relationship he wants with you.

But... he ignores all that... and pretends you aren't glaring at him as you're locked away in a room.

This way... You'll be safe... and all his...

Ironically though, he'll lose you emotionally.

You'll hate him for what he's doing and has done.

Sure, he won't kill... but his own emotions are dangerous to you both.

PV will keep you with him one way or another since you mean so much to him...

He plans to be your loving husband... The one meant for you...

Yet he'll always be too focused on that, on the moments that are in the past, that he'll be blind to the betrayal you feel now due to his isolation.

#yandere cookie run #yandere cookie run x reader #yandere pure vanilla #yandere pure vanilla cookie #yandere pure vanilla x reader

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itsmemuffy · 7 months ago

Text

I can make you feel better...

If you let me (chapter one)

Chapter Two out now ♡

Contents: Original Trilogy! Logan x fem reader, naive reader, obsessive and touch starved Logan, friends to lovers, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, non-sexual physical intimacy, sexual fantasies (real smut in pt. 2), mentions of Charles, Ororo, Jean, Scott and Rogue

Summary: You keep everything running as smooth as possible in the background while Professor Xavier keeps a very full plate of locating mutants, running the school, and leading the X-Men. A steady stream of mutants come and go through the mansion, but a certain one in particular makes it his mission to nestle his way into your life.

The past few days had been a whirlwind for Logan. He's the type of man that goes where he wants to go- and waking up in an infirmary on a small hospital cot after being round up like some sort of animal was not on his list of things to do that week, to say the least.

For all intents and purposes, his next plan of action was to get away from here as soon as he possibly could and get back to the life he lived on his own terms. His only home and form of transportation was totalled somewhere in the Alberta wilderness, sure, but he already had experience starting over from nothing.

Oh, but was one man ever persuasive: Charles Xavier. Not many people had an edge over Logan like he did. If his ego permitted, he would be thankful that the man that held upper hand had noble intentions.

When he first met you, a cute little thing diligently running errands to what was perhaps the one man who could have his answers, you immediately piqued Logan's interest. So sweet and so kind, and Charles put his trust in you?

He had barged in like he owned the place on you and the professor scheduling out the upcoming semester in his office. Charles appeared to have already gotten used to this type behavior from him. "This, my dear, is Logan. He will hopefully be joining us now."

Oh... so is he planning to stick around? You ponder as you bite the inside of your cheek, leaning onto Charles' desk with your hip. Logan immediately came off as brooding and dismissive, and he didn't seem like the type to settle into a place beaming with so much activity. Regardless, you extended your hand out to him as you told him your name.

It took him a second to register the gesture. He only now noticed how lost in thought he was, eyes caught below your neckline. With a clearing of his throat, Logan reached a hand back to you to shake it. The most formal of ways to greet someone, yet the feeling of your delicate fingers grasping his rough palm caused his mind to wander again. He forced himself back to reality.

"I guess I'll be seeing you around," Logan remained aloof in speech, hoping you didn't notice the way he devoured you with his gaze. He decided to promptly remove himself from the room, searching for the privacy to be alone with his thoughts.

A few interactions after your initial introduction, Logan started to feel something beyond sexual curiosity. You made his heart race, you made him nervous.

Not a single detail went unnoticed by Logan. The way your hips would sway, how you parted your hair, the shade of lipstick you wore, the softness in your voice whenever you greeted him, your scent.

Life kept throwing change in Logan's way, morphing his way of living into something unrecognizable to him. For the last however many years (boy, is he ever bad at keeping track of time) he had filled them with isolation and taking whatever cheap pleasures he could find. Now he finds himself surrendering the space in his mind to a woman he barely knew. You brought warmth and light into a cold, dark place.

No, this won't fly, he thought to himself. The fact that he was losing control over the dynamic between you made him very uncomfortable. Logan made it his mission to learn more about you. If he could just figure you out, he could take the reins over again.

The two of you would always acknowledge eachother in a group setting. The tiny smile Logan would throw your way whenever you caught eyes made you weak. You couldn't help but to want to know more about him, too. A rugged man who was a stranger not too long ago was showing you consideration? A man who nobody knows where he's been, what he's done, how old he is? It kind of wracked your brain, but you tried not to let it trip you up.

Oh, but he would catch you trip up. It wasn't lost on Logan the times you entered a space with him in it, seemingly to forget what you came in there for. Maybe you were a little ditzy- your mind often racing too fast that you couldn't catch up with yourself, but it had happened too many times for it to be a coincidence. At least, that's what he told himself.

He replicated your behavior, scouting you out amongst the mansion. It wasn't hard for him to find you. Your trail had become so much bolder to his senses, overshadowing anybody else that could be in vicinity.

Logan always found what he was looking for. Excuse after excuse slipped easily from his lips. Obvious to everyone else what he was doing, you earnestly took the bait every time without fail. He marked the first time he had a conversation with you alone as a significant victory.

"Hey, didn't see you there. Have you seen Charles around? I need to talk to him." He had cornered you in the library, watching you read for a minute or two before making his presence known.

You flinched up in your chair, "Jesus Logan, don't sneak up on me like that!" The yelp that initially left your lips was definitely a sound he would remember next time he's alone.

"Sorry, doll. Didn't mean to scare ya," he chuckled.

The upset you felt towards him for breaking your flow state lasted but half a second. You couldn't be mad. After all, whatever he needed Charles for must of been important.

"No, Jean and him are off chaperoning a field trip in the city. He should be back sometime this evening."

Logan let out a little "hmph", trying his best sound to sound disappointed. Inside he was estatic he finally caught up to you again. Now with no one else around, his mind flooded with possibilities on how this could go. The odds of you immediately throwing yourself at him weren't zero, were they? If he were to take you and bend you over the table right this very second, there was a possiblility you'd let him... right? God, am I really this desperate? he thought.

After letting a moment hang in the air, he sat down next to you in the ajacet seat. "So, what are you doing here all by yourself? Got nothing better to do on a Saturday afternoon, huh?" Good idea, Logan, change the subject.

"You're one to talk," your focus was now one hundred percent on him. Thighs spread as he lazily leaned back in the chair, rolling his head to the side. To say he wasn't beautiful like this would be a lie. You've rarely seen him this relaxed. "Aren't you here too?"

"Huh." Logan did not anticipate you to call him out like that, "I guess you've got a point, there."

An awkward silence sat between the two of you. You pretended to divert your attention back to your book, not letting him escape the corner of your eye. Logan lit up a cigar he fished from his pocket. He desperately needed something to do with his hands.

"This is a library, you know that right?" You chide him after an annoyed sigh.

"Oh, is it now? I thought all these books were just for decoration." His lips sucked in another drag.

"Very expensive books, Logan. There's plenty of perfecly fine places to smoke around here if you just look."

He got up from his seat, "Then why don't you show me around, darlin'? Open my eyes a little." You couldn't quite tell if the pet name was to belittle you or to be affectionate. A hand reached out to bring you to stand. "I'll let you lead the way."

You lead him outside to the back of the mansion, a secluded area with an old stone bench shaded by the surrounding trees. It was your favorite place on the property, and it soon became his as well.

After that day, it wasn't an uncommon occurrence for the two of you to catch eachother in that very spot on a warm day. You would watch the kids play in the field, discussing all the antics the students got into that week. Bright afternoon sun would peak through the trees as cigar smoke wafted in the air- everything felt so perfect when you were with him.

Logan often found himself falling asleep thinking of you. He would linger on any time you spent together in the previous hours of the day, overanalyzing the interaction. Any amount he got of you was never enough. He always needed more. More time with you, more closeness, more, more, more.

If he was lucky, you would visit him in his dreams. It was rare but whenever it happened, it was a blessing. You would appear to him as vivid and real as if he was awake. There, he was finally able to close the gap between you two. His hands would finally meet every inch of your plush skin.

However, Logan's mind loved to torture him. As much as your companionship has brought him peace, no amount of feelings for you could change the fact that he was a broken man. Most nights consisted of horrific images; an incomprehensible collage of blood and bodies that he desperately tried to make sense of. All he knew is that it was all real. It happened. The pain was too prevalent to be fantasy.

Tonight he had awoke in terror yet again. A cold, uncomfortable sweat coated his body, chest heaving up and down like a piston. Logan's eyes were blown wide, staring at the ceiling in an attempt to convince himself he was safe in his room. When did four walls around you ever mean you were safe? His intrusive thoughts were keen on keeping him in a state of anxiety. When did four walls ever make someone safe from you?

That was enough. Logan knew all too well how his mind could go on and on like this if he let it. He needed to get some air. The bed creaked under his shifting weight as he sat up. His entire body felt sore. It was if he fought off an entire army in the hours he was asleep.

After finally getting up, he made his way past his bedroom door and down the hall towards the nearest exit. The kitchen was along that route. He figured he might as well grab something to drink. Anything, as long as it was cold.

As he turned the corner, the narrow hallway met the open space of the kitchen. Logan was surprised to find the room already illuminated with light. His eyes lit up when he saw who was sitting at the counter.

Logan stumbled before you a dishelveled mess. His hair was matted, sticking up every which way. The white tank he wore was half tucked into sweatpants he haphazardly put on before leaving his bedroom, drawstrings not even tied as they sat low on his hips. His demeanor was one of a wild animal, cautious and running on instinct.

A wave of awareness washed over Logan. He combed his fingers through his dark locks and straightened his back as he approached you further. Once he got himself to think in actual words again, he greeted you.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" His voice was hoarse and deep. Logan just now realized how sore his throat was. He hoped to god that he wasn't screaming in his slumber- at least not loud enough for anybody to hear.

"I just woke up not too long ago. Was hoping a snack would help me get back to sleep." You sat before a plate filled with a random assortment of food you scavenged from the cupboards, "Want some?"

"No thanks, sweetheart," the way he spoke sweetly to you through his gravelly tone made your heart skip a beat. He didn't need to ask to know that you had a rough night as well. It was written all over your face. A gentleness Logan typically pushed down and tried to ignore was bubbling to the surface. Something in him was relieved he was no longer alone with himself tonight.

You watch him make the journey past you to the fridge, scanning the contents of the shelves like it was the hardest decision he had to make in a long time. Rootbeer or ginger ale... Ginger ale or rootbeer...

"You didn't hear it from me, but Scott keeps a few beers in the vegetable drawer underneath the celery."

"That sneaky little bastard," he smirks. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." Logan was delighted. Not only by the sudden promise of alcohol, but by the thought that you might share other secrets with him, too. He had a boyish urge to stay up the entire night with you and see if he could get you to spill all the other secrets you must have.

Two beers clanked together as Logan grasped them with a single hand. He took a seat across from you and slid a bottle over to your side of the countertop. Your eyes locked and held on to that contact for probably way too long. Time felt like it has stopped. The moment he walked into the kitchen and saw you, the clock might as well never ticked a single second past 1:37 AM.

"I don't know... Scott will probably notice if we take more than one," you say as you bite your lip.

"I'll run to the store in the morning, he won't even know they were gone," he was all too ready to combat your excuse. Logan wanted to see you come undone. You worked so hard, did everything you're told and were so diligent. Such a good girl. A beer in your hand looked terribly out of place and that made his heart swell.

"Guess it can't hurt, can it?" You opened the bottle and sipped as the frosty glass numbed the tips of your fingers.

He drank much slower than his usual pace, taking the tiniest of mouthfuls like the time with you would run out with the beer. Silence draped over the two of you like a warm blanket, both too exhausted to put on any sort of show to entertain the other. The satisfaction of just being in eachother's company was enough. It came all too easy when you were together. After witnessing all those horrors earlier in the night, Logan finally felt content.

You notice he rubs his neck, a strained noise rumbled in his chest. The stool you sat in screeches against the tile floor as you get up and make your way over to him on the other side of the island. Logan's eyes followed you with every step you took

"May I?" you ask as you now stand behind him, hands hovering over his shoulders, waiting for permission. It wasn't a big deal. You always help out Ororo and Jean when they have stiffness or a knot. That's what friends do for eachother, right?

Logan did his best to hide his signs of exitement. He couldn't let you know how often he thinks of your touch. If he had only one ounce less of pride, he would be begging you for the simplest of contact all hours of the day. "That's real sweet of you, but you really don't have to," he said with the slightest quiver in is voice.

"But I want to." That's it. Those four words just shattered him into a million pieces. If you only knew what you were doing to him.

Your digits grip the dip in his shoulder as your thumbs dig between his shoulder blades. You tried not to gasp when you felt the all knots going up his back. It has just occurred to you how little mind he must pay to taking care of himself for it to get this bad. Pain was a staple of his everyday life, why waste time to try and remedy it? Despite the ability to heal, the constant state of tension still took an immense toll on his body.

Logan leaned into your touch and practically melted under your fingers as he tentatively sipped his beer. If he were to turn around and look at your face, he'd see your complexion flushed bright red. Maybe you were enjoying this a little too much, and you chastised yourself for thinking that way. Little did you know all the scandalous thoughts Logan let his mind run away with on a daily basis when he was around you.

Your hands quickly grew weary working into the solid muscle, but you pushed through it for him. You know he needed this by the way his eyes were now closed and soft hums that left his lips. After working across his shoulders, you finally made your way to his neck. Logan let his head fall forward completely as your knuckles broke up the bundled-up nerves beneath his skin. The tightness in him was able to come loose a bit for the first time in a long, long time.

"Whew," you withdrew your hands and shook them out, "hopefully it feels a bit better now."

"It does," a smile crept up on his face that he tried to supress with each word. "That really was somethin', thank you."

You sat back down across from him and remained mostly silent after that apart from the occasional yawn. A single beer not quite enough to offer a buzz, but enough to lull you out of your wired state.

"Think I'm going to call it a night. You should, too. Danger room is on the itinerary first thing in the morning."

"Yeah, well you can tell Charles where to stick his itinerary." Logan was determined to make you smile one last time before you parted ways- and he succeeded.

He walked behind you on your way back down the hall, wishing the journey was not as quick as it was. Your room came up a few doors before his. Logan almost followed you into your bedroom before he shook himself out of auto pilot. It was like a habit that hadn't been formed yet. He belonged next to you in that bed, he knew because he felt it in every fibre of his being.

"Goodnight, Logan. Sleep well."

"I definetly will now. Goodnight, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. There it was again. You convince yourself it couldn't of meant anything.

When you gently shut the door behind you, time had resumed yet again. That little bubble wherein only the two of you existed had been popped.

He lied about going back to sleep, holding on to the delusion that he didn't need it. Besides, he didn't want to say goodbye to your essence. You still filled his senses, if only just barely. A deep inhale could capture your scent, and your breathing could faintly be heard if he really listened. Logan stood outside your door until the sun started to rise before he snuck back into his room.

He never ended up replacing Scott's beers.

As time went by, your encounters with eachother became more and more frequent. Excuses to talk were no longer required. You enjoyed Logan's company, as he did yours. There was no reason to pretend, you were just two friends growing closer by the day.

You gradually opened up to one another and Logan started to confide in you. Any insight on himself or his past was kept brief, giving carefully worded and vague details. You knew better than to push him for more than he was wiling to give and he liked that about you. Whenever the confusion, the regret, or the pain would get too much, he turned the conversation back to you. The more he learned about you as a person, the more his mind circled all his thoughts back to you.

Neither side knew, however, what things the other was keeping to themselves. You couldn't tell him how the casual touches felt different from him than how it felt with your other male friends. You couldn't tell him how hard it was to think when you would run into him all sweaty after an intense training session. You couldn't tell him that when you held onto your pillow at night, you wish it had his warmth.

And he couldn't tell you that you were the first thing he thought of in the morning. He couldn't tell you how he had a favorite pair of jeans that your ass looked best in. He couldn't tell you that he committed every detail about you to memory- from the curve of your lips to the way you say his name.

Anyone who saw the way Logan looked at you could deduce there was something more going on beneath the surface. Scott would tease him about it and he would swiftly shut it down. Jean and Ororo would pry you for details, only for you to tell them there was nothing going on between you and him. They didn't buy it. No one bought it.

All the words unsaid eventually built up so high it was suffocating. It was getting harder and harder to behave like normal around eachother, not knowing where the boundaries were and if it was okay to cross them. Something had to give.

It started out as a regular Friday evening with the team gathered together, watching movies and playing cards. Your initial plan was to work late into the night. Small, tedious tasks has accumulated as you had focused on more pressing matters throughout the week. Charles was having the X-Men find mutants at a pace more efficient than ever before which corresponded with an increased workload on your front.

You were leaving in the morning on a trip for the long weekend and you were determined to finish everything before you left. Ororo was always the one to break you out of your paperwork prison and get you to live a little. "Come on, everyone's waiting for you to come down before we put on the next movie."

"Storm, if I don't do this now, it will never get done."

"Oh, please. You worked so hard all week. Everything here can wait until you get back," your friend watches you as you roll your eyes and continue sorting files. Good thing she had a little trick up her sleeve, "...and Logan wants to see you before you leave."

"He said that...?" you inquire in an almost pathetic manner. She nodded but truthfully, he didn't have say it. She knew it was true all the same.

After dragging you downstairs you scanned the common room, everyone talking amongst themselves with a glass in hand. Everyone except Logan. Ororo had pulled a similar scheme to get him to come out of his self isolation, but when he saw you weren't there earlier, he decided to skip the socializing and retire to his room.

Jean, ever the fast thinker, was in on the plan, "Hey, we were thinking about ordering takeout. Can you do me a favor and see if Logan wants anything?" She hands you a menu knowing you wouldn't pass up a chance to be helpful to a friend.

Logan sat in darkness on the edge of his bed, rubbing his temples and groaning. He truly didn't mean to blow everybody else off. In actuality, he enjoyed shooting the shit with the mutants he was slowly starting to recognize as his family. Tonight was different, however.

Frustration was pushing him to his limit. He still wasn't any closer to finding the missing pieces to his puzzle. Charles told him these kind of things take time. He was sick of hearing that, he needed answers now. His sanity depended on it.

Only one thing was certain- another person had done this to him. There was no doubt the wiping of his memories was a deliberate effort on somebody's part. That wasn't the only thing. The recurring visions of being horrified at his own self, the sickening realization he was changed into something he hadn't been before haunted him on the daily. Is my body really my own?

All of this made worse by the multiple birthdays of a couple of students this past month. Simple things everyone knew about themselves- when and where they were born- was a luxury he was not afforded. Logan felt himself slipping, the feelings that were out of his control eating away at him.

A knock at the door stopped his thoughts in its tracks. "Logan? You there?" Only but a half hour earlier, you were the only person he wanted to see. But now that he has succumbed further down his spiral of self pity in that short amount of time, he didn't want you to see him like this.

"What do you want?" His uncharacteristically cold tone made you wince behind the door. As much as he needed you to pull him out of the hole he dug for himself, the dark recesses of his mind were commanding him to push you away.

"We're ordering takeout. Jean needs to know if you want anything."

"I'm not hungry." He was silently begging for you to walk away before he said something he would regret.

"Can I please come in?" You pleaded, hoping he'd recognize the worry in your voice. This wasn't like him.

"Fine," he grumbled. At the end of the day, Logan could never say no to you.

The door squeaked as you inched it open. You could barely make out his silhouette in the dark. With a flick of a switch, the space was illuminated. "Is everything alright, Lo? You're scaring me."

Careful footsteps slowly brought you to stand before him. The air in the room was undoubtedly charged. Every action you now took was deliberate, as if trying not to startle a feral animal.

"You wouldn't be the first person that's ever been scared of me," he spat out his words like daggers.

As serious as the conversation felt, you couldn't help a scoff from escaping you. You sat down next to him on the bed mere inches apart, "that's not what I mean and you know it. Stop being so obtuse and tell me what's going on."

"Nothing is going on, believe me," Logan sighed. His demeanor immediately softened just from having you close. He buried his face in his palm- an insecure gesture you've rarely seem him perform. But when he did, you knew exactly what it meant.

"Bullshit. I know you better than this, Logan." Maybe you were getting through to him.

Something about what you said must have struck him the wrong way as he tensed back up again. "You don't know me at all, actually."

"How can you say that? We see eachother almost every single day! Come on, now... You can't be serious," you playfully nudge his knee against your own, trying to lighten the mood.

"No, I am serious. How can you know me when I don't even know myself? You don't know what I've done and how many people I've had to do it to. I don't even know any of the fucking details but I know it ain't anything good, sweetheart." He watched outside himself as he was taking his inner frustration out on you.

Logan knew it wasn't right to speak to you this way when you were just trying to be there for him. As much as it stung in the moment, you tried not to take it personally. He was hurt and he needed you, that much was clear.

"Listen to me for just one second," you braced yourself, unsure how he would take what you were about to say. "I know what kind of man you are. And I don't need to know your entire damn history to be certain of that."

All he could do was stare blankly at your face as he processed your words. Without waiting for a response you continued, "How can I be so sure? Because I see it in everything you do, Logan. It's in the way you treat Rogue and the other kids, treat your teammates, treat me. I can't tell you that you've never had to hurt anyone, but you know what? I have faith in you. Faith that whatever may have happened in your past, you've learned from and are a better man for it."

A long period of silence sat between you. It wasn't exactly a comfortable silence, but the charge in the air had definetly diffused. You held his stare, now was not the time to back down. There was a chance you were finally getting through to him and you needed to make it clear you meant every word that you just said.

After a prolonged moment to properly think about what you were saying to him, the look on his face transformed into something you couldn't quite put your finger on. A look that was warm, and you could go as far to say it was a look that was loving.

Logan did indeed love you. He loved the way you didn't try to tame him, how you not only didn't shy away from the less savory aspects of his life- you met them head on with tenderness and understanding.

With this love came great guilt. You had a way of making Logan feel like the world had more to offer than just loss and suffering, for this he was grateful. Still, the feeling he deserved to suffer alone gnawed at him until his gut felt raw. If he were to send for you everytime he needed you, you would be a way busier woman than you already were. The fact that you always made time for him without the semblance of hesitation wasn't lost on him, either.

"How are you so sweet?" he croons as he caressed your cheek with the back of his hand. Logan was always gentle with his touch when it came to you, but the softness of his actions in this moment shocked even yourself. "You're too sweet for me, darlin'. Wouldn't want anything to change that."

It almost made you sick to your stomach how just barely your bodies were connected in this moment. He kept his touch as light as a feather as he trailed his hand down your neck before it made it's temporary home on your shoulder. "Say something, sweetheart," he pleaded as a firm squeeze brought you back to reality. Logan needed more of your words to keep him grounded. "Please."

"Logan, I..." your brain scrambled as you tried to gather your thoughts. The way you felt for him was so foreign to you. You couldn't put it into words right now no matter how badly you wanted to. This feeling could only properly be put into actions- an action older than language itself.

Without thinking, you close the gap and press your lips to his- Logan's bottom lip captured between your own. In his wildest dreams, he never thought you would be the one to make the first move and initiate a kiss. The hand that wasn't on your shoulder now cupped your face. He held you there, afraid you'd slip away from him.

"I'm sorry... I know it probably isn't the right time for this," you whispered against his lips.

"Mmm," Logan emitted a small chuckle into your mouth as he went in for a deeper kiss this time. More intense, hungry. His beard burned deliciously when it scuffed your skin. "Never a wrong time to kiss ya, sweet girl."

Now that he has felt your velvety soft lips, he knew he would never be able to get enough. His desire for you overrided his shame. Logan got a taste of what it would be like if you were his. From this point on, he wouldn't be able to hold back anymore. The floodgates were now open and he couldn't wait to pour himself all over you.

He pulled his face away from yours, still holding your body close, "all this just for you to leave in the morning, huh?" Logan looked down at you through half-lidded eyes. His mind was in a daze, in such bliss now that the invisible barriers between you were finally being torn down.

"Oh please, I'll only be gone for a few days." Even though the trip you were about to go on was a long time coming, you wouldn't mind throwing all your plans away just to be in Logan's arms all weekend. "Why, you gonna miss me that bad?"

"I always miss my girl when she's gone," he couldn't help all the syrupy words from flowing from his mouth. Inhibitions were nonexistent to Logan in this moment and he couldn't say anything but exactly what was on his mind.

He was right. You were his girl. In every sense of the word. His girl whose face would light up everytime he walked into a room. His girl who would save him a plate whenever he was late to dinner. His girl who would always make sure he was comfortable and had everything he needed. His girl who would do absolutely anything for him- all he had to do was ask. Logan had owned your heart for a while now.

You fiddle with the seams at the bottom of his tank, fingers brushing his abdomen underneath. It was enough to make you both shiver. "Just do me a favor while I'm away, Lo."

Jesus, how his pulse quickened everytime you called that little nickname. I'm so fucked, he thought. What a fool he was to think he was ever in control. Since the moment the two of you met, his heart belonged to you as well. "And what is that you need me to do?"

"Try not to be so hard on yourself," you punctuate your request with a chaste kiss to the apple of his cheek. You felt his face lift as a smile reached his eyes. "Shit... I haven't even finished packing," it has just now dawned on you.

The realization he couldn't keep you next to him in bed forever hit him like a brick- another bubble popped. It's a shame, but he told himself there will be plently of opportunities to conjure up the little worlds you built together. He had no other option but to placate his burning desire for the time being.

"Well, don't let me keep you any longer," Logan hesitatantly let go of his grip on you. He got up to escort you the few steps from the bed to the door. Excessive, yes. But so necessary all the same.

Just as your hand was reaching to turn the handle, turned your back to the door to embrace him. It took your entire wingspan to wrap your arms around his broad form. Logan's warmth was absolutely addictive. He held on to the back of your head with his face buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Just in case I don't catch you first thing in the morning..." you whispered as you caress up and down his back, "goodbye, Lo."

"Goodbye, sweetheart," he withdraws from his burrow within your hair to slip his lips between yours again. "Think of me while you're gone, will ya?"

"Always do."

And with that, you were apart again. As you were folding clothes to go into your suitcase, you couldn't help but think about how well the two of you clicked into place. He already had you longing to feel his body up against your own again. You fell asleep imagining all the places you'd let his hands explore when you got back. Logan laid in his bed doing the same.

Fin.

#this is my first fic I can't believe it's finally finished!!!#already started on pt. 2 eee I'm so exited #Wolverine x reader #Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett imagine #Logan Howlett smut #Logan Howlett fluff #Logan Howlett fanfiction

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 2 years ago

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Yandere! Cowboy x New in town! Teacher! gn! Reader

Save a horse, RIDE A WHAT?!

Okay i'm not that knowledgeable about the Ranch life, I only got this prompt from a *ehem* cowboy Ghost (from COD) prompt...

Yandere cowboy name: Knoxx Wyatt

TW: Implied sexual encounter, yandere shenanigans.

The Wyatt family.

They were THE ranchers of the town they live in.

You need cattle? They got them. Dairy? Sure. They even own a winery for goodness sake.

They also protect the town from outsiders and rogues.

But the most impressive part of their ranch is their horses. Their horses are award winning, with the most impressive breeds out there with such powerful legs for jumping, and the shiniest coasts to boast.

So it was clear that their horses are very important to them. So important in fact that every child born into the family gets their own horse once they turn 5.

When Knoxx got born, Mr. and Mrs. Wyatt was immediately smitten with their son. He's a miracle child after all. His mother, suffering from PCOS, considers Knoxx as a miracle child.

So naturally, he was spoiled rotten.

By the time he got to 5 years old, he was given one of the most powerful horse breeds in the world, a Belgian Draught.

The town was shook at first. A Belgian Draught? Even if the Wyatt family is known for their horses, a Belgian Draught is still a very prestigious horse breed none of their family members had handled.

Yet Knoxx proved everyone wrong by wrangling the horse even such a young age.

The horse, named Red, grew alongside the prodigy, Knoxx.

It was almost like Knoxx can talk with the animals with how he can tell what the cattle and the horses need by just a few huffs, belts, and trots. He's also a smart boy, absorbing information and relaying it effectively to the point he immediately got the senior rancher position by the age of 10.

Knoxx was mostly passive, only focuses on the ranch and the school. He's a gentleman, nice, polite, plus the fact that he's handsome, he's a heartthrob in the sleepy town he lives in.

Naturally, by the time he graduated with a double degree of Biology and Agriculture, he's the ideal bachelor of almost everyone.

And yet, he's not settling yet.

He felt like he just can't.

Because nobody can look past his polite smiles. No one can see his bored eyes, his arrogant sneer, his small, annoyed scoffs.

"Do they think they can measure up to me? THE Knoxx Wyatt? Dream fuckin' on."

In reality, he's an arrogant, entitled cowboy who thinks that everyone is below him.

Even going as far as letting his bloodlust win sometimes, silently and quietly killing the people who dared to be stupid around his precious cattle and horses.

Sometimes. It would be suspicious if it happened frequently, right?

He has a reputation to protect, after all.

So with this, all he could do is put the brim of his cowboy hat low, and take care of his ranch, and his ole' Red who's still alive and kicking.

But that arrogance will crumble once he met you.

"Fuck! Red! Where are you, boy?!"

"Red! Come on boy! This is not funny!"

Knoxx ran around the town, his boots clinking as his loud steps disturbed the peaceful town.

Knoxx was panicking. Red, his old horse, is missing. One of the hired ranchers forgot to lock the gate before he left the ranch.

Let's just say that rancher was sure to remember next time, his head almost being lobbed off with a rake that Knoxx may or may not have thrown.

As he got closer and closer to the raging rivers, his heart pounded. All he could see is the hoof marks that's definitely Red's making it's way to the river. He felt lightheaded, almost like he's about to puke from the stress and anxiety.

He may be a... Murderer, but he still has his moments, alright?

He got to the riverbank and his heart lodged to his throat when he saw a person pulling Red to the edge with all their might, their formal clothes wet. A telltale sign they pulled Red all the way from the middle of the river to the edge.

The person, not noticing Knoxx, continued to pull Red with the lead attached to the horse. Their legs were shaking, but they pulled with all their might until Red finally got to the edge.

"Darlin!" Knoxx yelled, running towards to Red and holding the old horse's head to his forehead. "You gave me a scare, boy!"

Knoxx turned towards the person and his cold heart slowly melted as they wrung their outfit from the water.

"Excuse me, your name, sweetheart?"

The person's head shot up, their eyes wide, tired, yet full of vigor. Maybe it was from the adrenaline, but Knoxx swore it was sparkles.

Or was it his eyes sparkling?

"I'm y/n."

"Y/n..." The way your name rolled on his tongue felt so good.

"Well, sweetheart. Thank you for saving my horse here. I'm sorry. You got your cute outfit wet too." You blushed, laughing it off.

"It's okay. I saw an animal in need and I immediately dove without thinking." You reasoned, shaking off the water. "Although, i'm probably late to my class."

Knoxx's heart sank. Are you not of age? A student?

"School? Are you new to this town? I've never seen ya around."

"Oh yes! I'm the new teacher. Well, I don't think i'll give the best first impressions with this outfit." You laughed sheepishly.

A teacher? His mind went haywire. You're an academic, it's quite a turn on.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. You got wet because of me."

Hmm? Why does that sound--

Knoxx bit his lip and rubbed his thighs together at the sudden heat running inside of him. God.

"Oh don't worry. It's okay. I gotta go though, although I don't know how to explain the situation." You smiled softly, grabbing your bag that was discarded to the side. "I'll go then."

Knoxx was upset. He wanted to spend time with you more.

Then there's also the scratching feeling in his chest and throat that roared at the thought of you going out of his sight.

He gulped, and took his hat off and placed it on your head. Sweat riddling his face.

'Please don't know what this means please don't know what this means please don't know what this means...'

Knoxx almost buckled over when you looked at him with curious and ignorant eyes.

"Your hat? Why did you give me your hat?" You asked, feeling up his cowboy hat. It felt high quality and nice. Yet it felt foreboding. You don't know why.

"Don't worry your pretty little head over it." Knoxx said, smirking lazily. "Just wear that. They'll know what that meant."

You tilted your head and Knoxx gulped once more, shaking his head. And ignoring the prominent hardness between his legs.

"You must be cold. Come on, let me give you a ride to the school. I'll explain the situation to them." Knoxx held your waist, his body so close to you that you can smell his musk of pine, dirt, and wine.

And as he gave you a ride to the school, you swore that the townspeople's eyes were glued to you, and the hat on top of you.

"Knoxx! How's the new teacher? Are they settling well here?" The mayor of the town asked, eating his snacks.

Knoxx nodded and sighed. It was already a month, and it felt like a fever dream for him.

A beautiful fever dream he won't let go off.

"They're doing fine. The students love 'em." Knoxx said, chuckling and settling back on his chair.

They were in a saloon right now, drinking and eating the afternoon away. Knoxx just finished his daily patrol so he decided to settle inside the saloon when the mayor sat down with him to eat.

"Well, i'm glad to hear that." The mayor cleared his throat before his eyes widened to the door.

Knoxx followed his eyes and his gaze softened, yet also became predatory as he saw you walk inside.

"School's done, sweetheart?" Knoxx asked loudly, making you jump and clear your throat. A blush on your cheeks.

"Yes. Just finished. I'm just gonna go get a drink before heading home." You said, adjusting the collar of your outfit before going to the bar hastily.

Knoxx chuckled lazily, his bitemarks from last night's love making was visible from here, despite your attempts to hide it.

Yet his eyes went to the mayor's, who is looking at you with a hint of desire in his gaze.

Knoxx gripped his whiskey glass and spun the barrel of his revolver slowly, letting it click softly to the right position.

It seems that his sweetheart is a magnet for bandits ready to snatch them up.

But that's okay.

This cowboy will not let anybody steal you from him.

Save a horse,

Ride a cowboy.

#yandere boyfriend #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere drabbles #lizzaneiaelizalde

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cntloup · 3 months ago

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foolish

zoro x gn!reader

he reminisces about when you met and how you grew closer...

the clash of swords ring in his ears. it's been a long time since someone has been able to block his signature attack, oni giri. since mihawk...

his eyes are locked onto the ground, sweat dripping down his forehead as he pants heavily from the ongoing grueling fight, taken by surprise, wondering...

who could it be? who has such power to stand against him?

his head slowly rises... only to meet the most beautiful and fierce set of eyes he has ever witnessed in his life.

his breath catches in his throat. he can feel himself melting from the raging fire in the eyes before him as they reduce him to a mere puddle.

he smiles fondly at the memory, his fingers dancing across your skin, caressing your arms and back as you sleep peacefully in his arms while the morning sun shines through the curtains, casting a soft glow across your shared room.

he reminisces about the first time he met you, one of the few warriors who were able to go head to head with him in combat. with such wonderful poise no less.

he remembers how you moved so gracefully, body moving smoothly not only against him, but along with him the first time your groups clashed together.

you were a rogue, always acting in accordance with your own principles and no one else's, moving from one group to the other however it suited your interests. and you joined captain luffy's crew because you figured your benefits lay there at the time. what you didn't plan though, was to fall in love. with the roronoa zoro no less.

"how foolish!" you spit, sparring with your crewmate, zoro. "what?!" he's taken aback, wondering what you mean.

"your goal is to become the strongest swordsman, right?" you ask as you straddle his waist, beating him once again for the nth time in the past few hours.

"...yeah" he replies hesitantly, "what about it?" he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he takes your hand and you pull him up on his feet.

"want any help with that?" you question with a big grin on your face that confuses him even further.

"in fact, i think you definitely need it. you're still weak!" you continue without giving him any time to answer as he stares at you with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open.

"you're gonna catch some flies, dude!" you smirk as you pat his chest lightly and leave him in his dazed and confused state.

later, he finds you on the deck, sitting alone while entertaining a bottle of beer as usual. you spend most of your nights like this.

"why help me?" he starts, "you called my goal foolish. so why help me achieve it?" he takes a seat beside you and you hand him a beer as well.

"all goals are foolish," you reply with a bitter chuckle, your eyes set on the vastness of the ocean, "you're a fool if you think otherwise."

he's brought back to reality by the slight shifting of your body against him. he dips his head to see you still deep in sleep, your lips parted slightly as soft snores leave them.

he remembers how obsessed he got with you as you both got to know each other over time, how hooked you got him on your loving, fierce and profound personality as well as your strength, how mesmerized he was by your sheer beauty, inside and out. and how your relationship flourished from mere crewmates (although he was definitely obsessed with you the moment you met, more so than he likes to admit) to friends, and then eventually to lovers. and how relieved he was when he found out his feelings were reciprocated.

although you both still have your own goals in life, he remembers how you made him realize that life is not meant to be taken seriously, how foolish it all is, and that we're only here to enjoy the ride. how much you helped him grow in all these years that you've been together.

"i love you." he whispers against your lips and kisses you softly. you slowly awaken from your slumber with a smile and a content hum as you kiss him back, "good morning, zoro." you murmur, voice laced with sleep, but your signature smile shining through and adorning your gorgeous face, "love you too." you peck his lips and curl yourself further into his body, having no intention to leave the bed just yet.

#zoro #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece fluff #one piece fanfiction #one piece imagine #one piece #anime #fanfic #fanfiction #manga

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draqu1a · 3 months ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A SMOKEY ACCIDENT . . .

— what kind? : FLUFF — warnings : harsh language .

The smoke curled from your cigarette, a lazy dance against the twilight sky. You were perched on the edge of a cracked picnic table, listening to Chris, your best friend since kindergarten, hold court.

He was in full swing, animatedly recounting some recent story involving a rogue squirrel and a bag of chips. You loved watching him — his eyes always sparkled when he was telling a story and his enthusiasm was infectious.

He was gesturing wildly, as usual, his hands a blur in the dim light. You took another drag, enjoying the familiar sting in your throat. Suddenly, pain exploded behind your nose.

"Ouch, motherfu-!" You instinctively clapped a hand to your face, the cigarette falling down on to the dusty ground. "Chris! What the hell?"

He froze mid-sentence, his face shadowed with guilt. "Oh my god! I am so so sorry!" He reached out a hand, hovering hesitantly. "Did I… did I hit you with my hand?"

You glared at him, your eyes watering. "No, Chris, a pack of pigeons flew right into my face. What do you think?" You rubbed your nose, which throbbed with a painful ache.

"You just punched me in the face with a burning cigarette. A little heads-up next time, alright?"

He winced. "I didn't mean to! I swear! I just... got carried away." He crouched down, picking up your lost cigarette. "Shit, I'm so sorry. Let me see." He pulled at your hand, gently examining your nose.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna sue you," you mumbled but a small smile tugged at your lips. He was always like this – a mess of clumsy affection.

"Is it bleeding?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

"Nah, just feels like I've gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson." you laughed lighty, which you did even though in that moment it hurt because Chris looked so stressed and worried.

He looked closely at your nose for a moment, then his blue eyes met yours.

"I owe you big time." He sighed. "How can I make it up to you?"

You shrugged, trying to downplay the situation, which in reality wasnt even that serious. "Ice cream?" you smirked trying to act as if it doesnt bother you.

"Deal. Double scoop, whatever flavour you want, on me" He smiled relieved.

The smile was warm.

Your heart did a funny little flip. Maybe getting accidentally assaulted by Chris wasn't the worst thing in the world after all. It was just a gentle reminder of how much you cared about each other.

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹🃜 . yappin claudia : decided to switch it up a lil this time around :D felt rlly tired writing this thoo .

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹🃜 . taglist : @strnilolover @ifwdominicfike @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @sturnsc @whore4aretz . . . .

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that-girl-from-nicu · 2 months ago

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Saving the Saviour - Part 6

Daisy chain

Song inspo: Colourblind - Daughter Darling. (A song you listen to, to force yourself back into reality on hard days)

Warnings: heavy on medical negligence but its due to understaffing. Neonatal death (big love to my fellow NICU and loss parents), NICU, resuscitation, psych nurse mentioned (you're awesome and I love you!), crying, self blame, body bag. Luigi Mangione mentioned.

Scene: Gloria makes a call that ultimately ends in the death of a baby. Fem! Reader goes rogue and Gloria loses her job. Robby is supportive. It's just a bad day for reader. Losely based on an actual day I've had. No fluff. No smut. Just a bad day and a supportive guy.

You'd sat on the couch in your apartment for the past 4hrs. Silent. Staring at the hardwood floors like they might have some sort of answer if you just looked for long enough. Small sips of water the only comfort you allowed yourself.

No warm shower. No changing from your pink scrubs into your grey sweats and one of Michael's tshirts. The thermostat read 62, but you didn't turn on the heat. You didn't deserve warmth, you told yourself. Your fingertips still feeling the cold of her body as you dressed her in her forever clothes, six hours earlier.

After two rings, your attention came to your phone. Michael.

"Hey", you answered, almost too soft for him to hear.

"Hey? Haven't heard from you. Got a bit worried. Was your shift okay?"

"No." was all you could manage without you walls crumbling down.

Michael knew you intimately. He knew you at a cellular level. He knew that when your pupils dilated and you fiddled with your cuticles, you were ready to leave a party. He knew when you crinkled your nose that you were uncomfortable with a situation. And he knew that one-word answers meant you were dissociating.

With a low and soothing tone before hanging up, Michael said "I'll be home in fifteen. I love you so much babe".

------

As Michael unlocked the door to your apartment, his eyes searched for any sign of you. A single light above the kitchen bench threw a dim glow through the cold apartment. His eyes searched for you and found you. A tiny, still silhouette on the brown leather couch.

He walked calmly to you, crouching at the arm of the couch, one hand finding your knee. He leaned to place a posie of flowers on the coffee table in front of you - daisies and babys breath - before leaning forward to catch your gaze, which was still firmly planted on the floor.

"Hey, beautiful girl" he said as he stroked your knee.

"Hey", you pushed out a tiny smile as your eyes met his, catching a glimpse of the pretty flowers in your peripheral vision. His face was painted with equal parts love and sadness; his beautiful brown eyes drooping at the edges with the pain of seeing you like that.

Your eyes found the floor again and a single tear rolled silently down your cheek. You raised the back of your hand to wipe it away, and lowered it again to rest it on Michael's hand which was still warm on your knee.

"Rough day". It wasn't a question from Michael. It was an empathetic acknowledgement and an open door for you to start speaking.

"Mmhmm". Your throat tightened, your body trying it's best to contain the emotion. "One for the history books", you whispered.

Michael understood what went on within the colourful but sterile walls of the dimly lit NICU. He appreciated the fragility of your patients as they balanced on a thin rope between life and death in their plexiglass boxes. He had listened with pride as you recounted the tremendous wins, and held you as you cried through the devastating losses. But he knew this was different. This was personal.

You found the courage to speak, knowing he would understand.

"I was charge nurse today," You broke the silence, eyes still down. "I hate charge.", your eyes pinched shut as you shook your head.

"Yes you do. How many patients?" Michael asked, leading the conversation.

"Too many. Not enough nurses", you breathed out, wetness now trickling from both eyes. "I asked her for nurses, Michael. I asked her four fucking times. I begged her." Your voice barely above a whisper.

"Gloria?", he questioned, anger filling his very being at the thought of her.

You nodded. "I - I couldn't... She -" your shoulders dropped. "These are innocent babies. Tiny little voiceless sick babies. On the brink of death. I didn't have enough nurses for the sickest ones. So I took one... Gloria said I should..."

Michael raised his hands to his temples and rubbed them through his hair, "you had charge AND a critical patient? Is that even legal?".

"Does anyone care if it's legal Michael? Do they care if it's unsafe?" You both shared a knowing look through pained expressions.

You continued "she said 'make it work', that she didn't have extra staff in the budget." your hands knotted in your lap.

"Between me taking a crit case and 23 week triplets delivering, staffing got thin really quick." You took a moment to compose yourself before continuing.

"One of my staff overlooked something. It wasn't her fault, Michael." you said with eager defence veiled in culpability. "She was pulled in three directions - each needing her immediate attention - and we didn't have backup staff."

Michael was still. Listening intently, never taking his attention from you.

"She missed a deterioration." you let out with a sigh. "She's one of our best nurses, Michael, but she was doing the work of four! It's not sustainable. It's not safe. And I -", your walls came down and you started trembling. "I yelled at her when I found her patient coding. 'Where were you? How did this happen?'" you threw your hands in the air, mocking your earlier self. "as if I wasn't the one who delegated too many jobs to her" You pushed your palm into your forhead, hating yourself.

"Gloria came to the code. Looked me dead in the eye while this baby was dying and said she had a psych nurse who was happy to come and give bottles and hold patients." You scoffed at the audacity.

"The fuck she did. What'd you say?" Michael was infuriated.

"I said -" you sniffled lightly. "I said 'Gloria does this look like a fucking petting zoo or does this look like fucking intensive care unit?'" you said with a slight laugh through your tears.

"That's my girl", Michael rubbed your hand with a little huff.

"So then we're doing everything to save this little girl. Bicarb corrections. Calcium corrections. Epi. Compressions. Chest tube..." you trailed off, your hands gesturing at the multitude of futile interventions.

"Those are very heroic measures", he said with one hand rubbing his brow.

"It wasn't enough. I held her mamas hands in mine and I told her, I said 'Daisy needs a cuddle, we've done all we can, but she's slipping away. Would you hold her?' And this poor mama..." tears fell rapidly as your conscience spoke loudly, "she's burying her Daisy because I didn't speak loudly enough. I didnt rant and rave and scream for those babies' safety. It's my fucking fault, it's all my fault." You buried your head in your hands and quietly let the day escape through your eyes.

Michael moved to sit next to you on the couch, his arms pulling your broken shell to his chest with a gentle "Shhh".

You were always a quiet crier, not wanting to bother anyone with your feelings. You simply wept through the journey until nothing was left.

Michael gave you a tight squeeze and broke the cold silence, his voice muffled in your hair. "Our healthcare system is a game. But there's no winner. You've just got to play it the best you can. You didn't cause this. The system did. It let that little girl down and she paid for it with her life. Fucking suits making decisions that cost people their loved ones. It's not fair but it's not your fault, okay?"

You continued crying gently as you nodded into his scrubs; a cool, damp patch having formed just below his heart.

"Did you see Gloria again? Does she know?" Michael asked eventually.

You pulled away from Michael gently, your tears subsiding as you rested your head back on the couch. You scratched your head and let out a pained sigh. "She came back. I took her to the palliation pod. Pointed to the small white plastic bag on the cot. She asked what it was. I told her it was Daisy. And that Daisy could have been the first female President. Daisy could have been a minister, or a nurse, or a teacher. She could have been a mother. But now she only gets to be a memory. A cherished one for her parents. A painful one for her healthcare team. And a career ending one for Gloria." You let out a sigh and crinkled your nose.

"Jesus", Michael rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. He was slightly amused but mostly very concerned.

"And then?"

You shrugged. All fucks had left your system. "And then I closed the door and left her there with Daisy to think about her actions. Once I got back to my station I messaged my old room mate from college who happens to be a journalist for The Pittsburgh Tribune and owes me a favour."

Michael was shocked. "You could lose your licence".

"I won't, I've got... I know people. But even if somehow I do lose my job, I don't care", you said. And it was true. "If I have to stack shelves at Walmart til I'm 90 so that Daisy's death isn't in vain, so be it. Sign me up."

"You know there will just be another Gloria, right?" Michael raised an eyebrow at you.

You contemplated his question for a moment. "I do. But there'll never be another Daisy."

Michael planted a kiss on your cheek and pulled you up from the couch.

You phone beeped on the coffee table. It was a message from your old room mate.

'Pulled a favour and got the security footage from NICU, complete with audio. She'll be looking for a new job tomorrow. It'll be on page four. #forDaisy. This one's on me xx'

Your phone beeped again. Same person.

'Also that was brutal what you did to her after. Brutal but necessary. So fucking proud of you. Pity there's no footage of that, seems the tapes were wiped 😉 #oops'

"Who's that?" Michael questioned.

"The fierce woman who just got Gloria fired", you said with a sly smile.

Michael's eyes widened. He was speechless.

"What?" you asked smugly.

"I just, I thought it would be Luigi Mangione who took Gloria out of my life. Not my woman! Kind of hott to be honest. And a little terrifying" he laughed from his belly and raised his hands in surrender.

"Luigi was my backup plan." you said flatly as you texted your friend an emoji Daisy chain.

"Remind me never to cross you", he said as his hand found the small of your back and his lips found your temple.

"With those eyes? I think you're safe, Robinavitch." You gave him a little nudge as you both headed for the shower, your eyes now dry but red. "Thanks for the flowers. They're beautiful"

"Daisies always are" he said with kindness and sorrow in his eyes.

#dr robby #dr robinavitch #noah wyle #the pitt #doctor robby #dr robby x reader #dr robinavitch x reader #michael robinavich x reader

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jackiequick · 6 months ago

Text

— Once Upon A Time OC 🎻

-> The Littlest Jones — Eugene Maverick Jones

Full Name: Eugene Maverick Jones

Cursed Name: Derek Rogers

Nicknames: Mav, Gene, Genie, Shepherd, Little Brother

Height: 5’11

Age: 34

Birthplace: The Enchanted Forest

Friends & Family

Brothers: Liam & Killian Jones

Sister In Law: Emma Swan

Friendships: David Nolan, Snow White, Regina Mills

Surrogate Nephew: Henry Mills

The rest of Storybrooke gang

Seasons: 2-7

Face Claim: Aaron Taylor Johnson

~~~~

~~~~~~~

Romance: He has dated before, having fell in love with an old friend once. Other than that, he hasn’t found his true love yet. He’s a Jones, he falls quick if he likes you that long.

Sexuality (if anyone cares): Bi

The titles he’s taken on: Pirate, Prince, Thief, Bartender, Knight

His most notable titles is: Flynn Rider.

Yes, Eugene as a child was made to play and read books, while his big brothers went on to scrap for food after their father sold them away. So there was this one book, The Tales Of Flynnigan Rider, an amazing swordsman who traveled across the land in search of riches, great with the people he met and secrets to discover. And for a kid who had nothing? Well, he dreamt about it and took on that idea for himself. It inspired him to take onto that journey in the future and read those stories to all the children.

Relations: Worked for Evil Queen whenever she needed someone to do something for her. Him and Regina had some…chemistry going on as well. Once due to his behavior to steal a stunning pearl, he found himself in Wonderland where he was captured by The Queen of Hearts and forced to surrender to her bidding. On the bright side though, he escaped with Jefferson Hatter.

None-Relations: Yes, he doesn’t like Rumple. The man took off his big brother’s hand and killed the love of his own brother! Heck, Eugene saw Belle from a mile away and thought to himself, he’ll be a great boyfriend for her instead of that crocodile of a man, just sayin’.

~~~~

Personality 📺

Eugene “Flynn Rider” Jones is a rather charming, impulsive rogue with wit and a heart of gold. Yes, he can often get caught in trouble, his loyaly to his family and friends comes out on top. He is someone who’ll do anything to protect those he loves even if it means putting himself at risk.

He hold a playful and laid-back nature that hides a deeper vulnerability, shaped by loss and responsibility. When he does let that vulnerable side be showcase, he will often appears moody and a bit smug or harsh, but he’s often times trying to not let it show.

~~~~~~~~

—Backstory ⚒️

After everything with their bastard father, the brothers Jones were founded apart of the The Royal Navy. Due to Eugene being the second youngest one, he was forced to take on jobs with Killian on the ship meanwhile Liam decided to be the overachieving big brother and take on jobs that should’ve been left alone.

Eugene often mumbled and rolled his eyes at his eldest brother’s role, however admired his bravery to take control. Killian however, as much as he loved his big brother, hated how he never listened to him and was too stubborn for his own good. Which unfortunately led to Liam’s death, after going to Neverland due to the royals back home wanting a plant from that island, not knowing or caring about what dangerous situation they sent their own men towards.

Due to Liam Jones’s death, both Killian and Eugene made a very important decision to never return to the navy again or that blasted island. The Crown Jewel Of The Realm became The Jolly Roger overnight. Captain Jones and Lieutenant Jones. They were consider as pirates to many other sailors that passed through, including the places they sailed to and the people they met.

Despite the presence of their pirates to their crew, in reality, Killian was just a big brother trying to do his best to protect his only family he had left. So that’s why it bothered him at first glance when Eugene announced that he wanted to travel the land without him being involved. Killian was hesitant at first, he knew his little brother was a bit foolish and tend to get himself into some sort of trouble, but he didn’t want to act the same way Liam was towards him. Eugene had a good heart and a great intentions, it also helped that he was skilled with a sword—so with a soft smile, Killian let him go.

But made sure Eugene knew to always come back to him and reach out, if he needed anything. He nodded with a grin and gave his big brother a light hug before rushing off to pack his things. Killian rolled his eyes with a grin at his baby brother’s cheerful expression. Eugene Jones was always a big kid at heart with such a profound sense of humor and passion, despite his silliness or lack of self awareness at times. However it made him charming, in his own right.

Sometimes it made Killian wonder if his baby brother would ever survive without him, or live to see the day he’s old and grey.

After Eugene left for his travels to explore the land—read to children the tales of Flynniagn Rider, fight against the odds creatures in the forest, steal a thing or two, give to the poorest people, end up in a bit of trouble himself, drink and dance with the lovely folks in town, etc—Killian didn’t think he’d see his younger brother for a while until The Evil Queen brought both brothers to do her dirty work and much more.

~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~ Years Later When The Dark Curse Broke ~

(Also known as Eugene Jones’s Arcs each season)

Season 2 ~ ♟️

Eugene met Emma Swan, Snow White, Cadence Nolan, Elionwy Llyr and others in The Enchanted Forest. He hasn’t seen Killian since the curse came into effect, he had no clue what happened to his brother and assumed he was a goner, so when he found Snow White, Mulan and Aurora, he decided to accompany them for a while.

He had recently been on his way to the taverns for shelter, and escape from The Stabbington Brothers, when he spotted them. He went as far as to ask what happened to them beforehand and recalled how The Enchanted Forest has taken recently to the years of being stiffened in time.

Emma asked, “So who are you supposed to be exactly?”

Snow scolded her softly, “Emma, be nice. But you didn’t give us your name.”

“Flynn Rider.” Eugene said with a soft smile.

Which of course, his real name was revealed later on in the season as Eugene Jones, after he sees Killian again. Back in Storybrooke, he relentlessly accompanied his big brother and the blasted Queen Of Hearts to their revenge. Eugene just wanted The Dark One to pay for what he’s done, after it’s revealed in a flashback, Rumple harmed his old love due to a payment that wasn’t sealed and stole the pendent that belonged to him.

He just wanted his pendent back in his hands. Later, he even met Baelfire, also known as Neal Cassidy, taking a liking to him and grew a short lived friendship. Oh! Eugene’s surprise to this ever growing Family Tree—Henry is The Dark One’s grandson?! Regina has a daughter named Theresa and her adoptive son Henry is also the child of The Savior?! It was a very long yet odd day for him.

Eugene wondered what mess did he get himself into? But he didn’t actually think he could leave this journey now, because he unexpectedly got roped into the family drama.

~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Season 3 ~ 🍃🧚🏼‍♀️✨

Return to Neverland! To say, Eugene was happy to return back to that island was a lie. He wasn’t sure if he could survive reliving the past again, once he saw Peter Pan. But to help save the young boy, Henry Mills? He was willing to take the risk!

While he was there on Neverland, after insisting to Pan’s rules of the island with the others and realizing they needed help. Killian smirked at his younger brother who scoffed and gripped the pendent in his hand with an uttering smile.

Tinkerbell. Eugene old friend and once upon a lifetime love. After Regina and her daughter Theresa Mills, tracked her down, the two shared a few glances before a soft embrace.

“Rider.” Tinker said with a light smile.

“Lady Bell.” He repiled with a grin before holding the pendant out to her. “I believe this is yours.”

“My pendant? You found it? But I thought it was lost at sea and fell into the wrong hands…”

“It took some effort and a fair amount of patience, but I got it back for you.”

During the rest of the session in Neverland, David and Eugene somehow managed to get along, even if Charming wasn’t a big fan of his brother. Even rolling his eyes at Killian and Emma possibly being together one day, knowing Neal Cassidy was still in the picture.

Returning to Storybrooke, with Henry in hand, resulted in a few moments of uncertainty within the town as Pan decided to enact another dark curse but Regina was able to stop it sending everyone back to The Enchanted Forest. Expect for Emma and Henry, of course.

A whole year passed, and everyone was suddenly shocked to return back to town with new friends along with a curiosity of who did it. Tinkerbell was gone after she believed in herself again, so everyone parted ways with her. Robin Hood and his Merry Men were brought with them this time around, and let’s just say Eugene rekindled a friendship twice!

Bromance all around at this point for Eugene. He wasn’t mad about it one bit and even made friends with Ruby. The man could’ve sworn he was checking her out once or twice, and who can blame him? Ruby Lucas was a lovely lady in his eyes. Of course, Emma and Henry returned, well Henry had no memory of his past but Emma did so they were on the hunt to figure out how to get his memories back, while also trying to figure out what happened during that missing year. Especially since they don’t know who cast the curse for them to return!

Eugene went out of his way to make sure no townsfolk panicked or threatened to cause any damage, chatting with Henry whenever he bumped into him, searching for clues about the missing years and a few other things. Also him and David took Henry out for a driving lesson—it didn’t go as planned but Henry had plenty of fun! Even if Emma and Regina were in shock at the news. At some point, Eugene tried to convince himself that maybe there’s a reason why those memories weren’t brought back with him, but a part of him was curious about what truly happened.

They all found who cast the dark curse and what exactly they were dealing with eventually.

“Seriously? The Wicked Witch Of The West? She’s real too…?” Emma asked in shock and disbelief, looking around.

Cadence raised an eyebrow and remarked, “Says the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming.”

As Elio and Eugene snickered to themselves.

Of course, after beating Zelena aka The Wicked Witch Of The West, Henry’s memories returned and whatnot, everyone headed back to the diner a few days later to celebrate. Henry was reading to Snow and Charming’s baby boy the story of how his parents met, in which Ruby and Cadence chimed in with their comments before Theresa and Elio arrived. Robin and Eugene were sharing a laugh over a drink with Regina while they watched the scene happen. It was good!

Killian accidentally let it slip that Emma was thinking of returning back to New York City, possibly with Henry in tow, in which left everyone in surprise. Henry exclaimed how Storybrooke is our home and Eugene added that maybe we should all discuss this privately. Regina didn’t even looked pleased with the idea, after wanting her son to stay with her and if anything, Emma should just leave. Eugene gave her a look at her idea as she shrugged.

Eventually, a few hours later, Emma returned in a new light with realization that Storybrooke is her home along with the friends and family in it. Among other events that occurred during that time.

~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~

Season 4 ~❄️🪄🌙

Elsa came to Storybrooke. Robin Hood’s wife who was supposed to be dead retuned due to Emma’s actions, causing a rift between her and Regina. Killian and her decided to go a date. Eugene was on Team Let’s Have Maid Marian Be Gone, but Snow glared at him. Regina silently agreed with him at first but knew that it wasn’t right thing to do.

Eugene would never admit it, but he developed a fondness for Elsa and actually found her to be very nice, despite what Grumpy said. He just wasn’t a fan of The Ice Queen, no offense to Elsa and Emma. Speaking of Emma, he felt sympathy for her during everything, he couldn’t related to what she was going through exactly but he knew she must’ve been upset. He seen from experience, that one wrong decision, can lead to people not trusting your judgement or treating you like someone who should be kept an eye on instead.

At some point, Snow snapped and actually yelled at Emma for accidentally hurting her father. When Eugene knew that all David was trying to do was push Killian out of the way before he could even get hurt, so it an obvious accident. When they arrived at the apartment to discuss what happened, Elio was holding Cadence back from saying something she might regret or not.

But Eugene wasn’t them. So when Snow said to David that “we” failed Emma—that’s when Eugene let his tongue slip. The same tongue that usually got him in trouble according to Killian, telling Snow White off and that it wasn’t David’s fault for any of this—but her own.

You can already imagine the disrespect and annoyance after that. Snow and Eugene apologized to one another sometime later.

Of course, later on in the season, things slowly got into a better gear, as despite The Shatter Sight spell, the Darkness, secrets being revealed, the team separating into two different groups. Even the concept of good vs evil, heroes vs villains were taken center stage. So Eugene was faced with his moral compass and what side he stood on, he wasn’t considered a bad character or an amazingly good one either. He was seen at sometimes as an anti-hero by some and some kept their opinions to themselves. Nothing is truly black or white, anymore. And honestly? Eugene was okay with that.

Oh! Henry introduced him to Star Wars and Marvel Comics, who knew the kid had good taste? He was shocked to find out who Luke Skywalker’s father was and he became a fan of a few characters from the Marvel movies. The two of them bonded this season!

~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~

Season 5 ~ 🌒🍂⚡️

The Darkness comes circling back! This could be summarized as The Gang’s No Good Very Bad Day (sorta). Cause Emma’s The Dark One sacrifice after not wanting to the darkness to come and get Regina, she sacrificed herself to become a part of it.

Theresa mumbled, “…why was that kinda gay?”

Eugene rolled his eyes sighing, while sharing a look with the others and Cadence snickered at her comment. Elio just put a hand on Theresa’s shoulder and shared a look, smirking. Killian tried to take the dark one dagger to summon Emma but it was no use, because she wasn’t in this world according to Regina.

Anyways! Off to Camelot!

Eugene spend a bunch of his time in Camelot basically being a knight with Elio and David, he actually enjoyed it. And yes, of course he danced with Belle at the ball after getting all dressed up, even flirted with her to cheer themselves up. Honestly, he said that he could live here and never return home a couple of times. Belle and Eugene read together to solve the mystery of how to resolve the darkness from Emma, shared a few drinks together, and went on an evening stroll.

But he hated King Arthur from the beginning and thought that David was replacing him in the bromance section, so he went off with Robin instead. Pff, he wasn’t jealous he had his best friend Robin Hood to accompany him, he was just concerned mainly for Charming’s safety.

During the rest of the season, they returned to Storybrooke suddenly with no memories of what happened as Emma went full Dark One and was hiding shit from everyone. Of course, they all got their memories back and Eugene wanted to murder Emma after finding out what happened.

His freaking brother was the dark one too?! Regina and Eugene tried to convince Dark One!Killian Jones, what kind of man he truly wants to be. Thankfully in the end, Killian made the right choice but sadly died in the process. Eugene dropped his sword and fell to his knees once he returned home to his apartment that night, letting out a silent sob.

He lost both of his older brothers to the fire…

A few short days later, Emma showed up at his door claiming that they’re going to drink Killian back. Eugene shook his head, last thing he wanted was to deal with dark forces after everything that happened and slammed the door in her face. It wasn’t until Regina and Elio convinced him, that’s when he joined.

Yay! Road Trip to The Underworld.

Eugene spends most of his time in the beginning a bit bitter, annoyed and tired. At first he directs it all towards Emma, just wanting all of them to get out of there as soon as possible and possibly get his big brother back. Robin knows his best friends is in a vulnerable state right now and suggests he waits for Killian to return back to them with Emma, instead of him doing something reckless. Reluctantly, Eugene agreed and decided to put his mind on other things while they were here, doing what can to make things better.

But that doesn’t stop a snicker towards Emma from him. As he comes across Rumple with his ex-wife, Mliah, and Emma in the street. As Milah says, “You’ve been with my former lover and my son?”

Eugene holds back a light smirk and pats Emma’s shoulder telling her, she’s on her own as he walks away. She sent him a soft glare in return, swearing that she saw Rumple smugness on his face.

During this time, Snow and Robin pull him away from the mess deciding to distract Eugene for his own good. They are going to help people find out their unfinished business, Henry suggested he comes along knowing he can do some good in The Underworld. Eugene hesitated before feeling a slight pang of sadness and guilt, he’s been acting bitter and annoyed—when he could be helping people! With a soft smile, he ruffles Henry’s hair and agrees to do so.

So Eugene and the others were willing to join in, did their best to help people in The Underworld. Going as far as teaming up with David and Snow to trick Cruella into getting the key. It was an awkward yet humorous moment, Cruella enjoyed it but David and Eugene did not.

He went to the loft afterwards to unwind and shake off that uncomfortable moment with Cruella. He told David he’ll meet up with him later on, but his plans got switched when the sound of the door open. Eugene looked up from his drink to see Emma walking in with Killian behind her. His expression soften at the sight. There was a silence that ranged between the three of them, nothing wild or strange, but familiar enough to send waves through their minds. Killian stepped forward pulling in his younger brother into a tight embrace, not even giving him time to react before returning the hug. Eugene glanced at Emma, reaching out his hand in which she took and gently squeezed.

A silent apology between the two of them was made, sharing a brief smile and sigh of sympathy.

They all knew the road ahead back home wouldn’t be easy, but it’s worth the risk to do so.

~~~~~

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ahhh okay, yes I know I stopped at Season 5! But I didn’t know what else to write yet and I didn’t want to bore anyone into reading more about this story hahaha

Anyways please let me know what you think about everything! 👀 remember to like, comment and share

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff f @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @djs8891 @starkleila @aidanxsophxoxo @mandylove1000 @yetanotherwells @topgun-imagines @buckysteveloki-me @sherloquestea @ximehs @savemewattpad @rose-of-oz @rowinablx @rickb-chaos @capsshinyshield

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xmenloganx · 16 days ago

Text

Between the Lines of Hatred (Part 1)

Hey everyone! This is my very first fanfic, and it's an enemies-to-lovers story featuring Logan x Reader / Y/N . (Who doesn’t love a little enemies-to-lovers banter, right?) I hope you all enjoy.

Background Info: Y/N's in her mid-20s with a healing factor not as rapid as Logan’s, but effective over time. Her mutation, (dreamwalking) grants her the ability to step into and control the dreams of others. She can alter the dream world, uncover hidden memories or knowledge, and even replicate abilities witnessed within the dream. She can also turn the dream into a weapon locking someone inside a nightmare they can’t escape.

Warnings: cussing, sensitive topics, choking, minors please DNI

PS: future chapters WILL include smut.

Between The Lines of Hated Part 2

Summary: You and Logan couldn’t stand each other.

Don’t get it wrong...you were a sweetheart. You’d been working at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters for years before Logan ever showed up. The kids absolutely adored you! you were their favorite professor. And you felt the same way about them. They were your safe haven. A comforting distraction from the harsh reality you came from. A family who saw your differences not as gifts, but as something to be ashamed of. Their words were laced with hate, and their acceptance was something you’d long given up hoping for. So you left, choosing to start a new life somewhere you could truly belong—a place where people were more like you, and where you could be accepted for who you really are. A mutant.

You shared a close bond with your colleagues. Storm, Jean, and Scott felt like family. You were the one everyone gravitated towards, a calming presence who brought a sense of peace into every room. People often said you were the kindest person they had ever met.

So why was Logan the exception?

From the moment he arrived, it was like he was determined to get under your skin. Always a snide comment. Always something sarcastic to say when things went wrong. Even the smallest inconvenience became his excuse to throw a jab your way. It wasn’t playful. It felt intentional. Personal. You’d think a man pushing 200 would have better things to do with his time.

And it was only ever aimed at you. Which quite honestly hurt your feelings.

You’d tried to figure it out. As someone who overthinks everything, you’d replayed every interaction, every glance, every word you’d shared with him from the day he arrived. Searching for a reason. Some moment where you might’ve offended him without realizing it. But there was nothing. No explanation.

You saw how he was with others. The soft spot he still had for Jean...though he’d finally come to terms with the fact that she only had eyes for Scott. The way he spoke so gently to Rogue. How he treated Charles with the utmost respect. He could be kind. Thoughtful, even.

So what had you done to deserve the cold shoulder? The constant disrespect?

Maybe nothing. Maybe he just didn’t like you. And maybe… that had to be okay.

So, life went on. Same routine, same rhythm. You’d get up, set up for your classes, teach your sections, then have lunch in the staff lounge with your friends. Some days you’d check in with Charles, other days you’d get some training in. And at night, your favorite part—you’d make yourself a hot cup of coffee and curl up with a book before bed. Yes, coffee. It didn’t keep you awake like it did most people. It was comforting. Familiar. Like home in a mug.

You and Logan still crossed paths. The occasional “hi” or “goodbye” in the hallways. Polite. Brief. Distant. But in group settings? That’s when the tension resurfaced. Every time you offered a suggestion during mission briefings, he’d have something to say (by being an absolute ass) always cutting, always loud enough to make you look foolish.

You didn’t know what his problem was. But at this point, you were done trying to figure it out.

Present Day

You had just wrapped up your class, answering every last question your students threw your way. With that all taken care of, you decided it was the perfect time to change and squeeze in some training. So you changed into your usual Adidas sportswear and a white tank top, tied your hair back into a ponytail and headed straight for the training room.... But little did you know Logan already beat you to it.

You stepped into the room and froze. “Oh... hey,” you managed, your voice catching slightly as the words tumbled out. You hadn’t expected anyone to be here this early let alone him.

Logan glanced over at you with a smirk. “Looks like someone wrapped up their class early.”

You rolled your eyes. “It was a short lecture, thank you very much.”

He scoffed, matching your eye roll with one of his own, then started walking towards you each step radiating that effortless confidence that always threw you off just a little more than you cared to admit.

“This isn’t the first time your lecture’s run short. Don’t forget, I teach right after you so when your students show up early, it cuts into my time. Now I’ve gotta head to class looking like this with no chance to shower"

You tried to focus on what he was saying, but your mind just couldn’t stay on track. His damn ruggedly handsome face, that perfectly trimmed beard, and his messy, tousled hair, everything about him was distracting the hell out of you.

But what really caught your attention was the way sweat traced down his muscular arms, soaking into the white beater that clung to him like a second skin. And if you were being honest with yourself… there was just something about a man in a white beater that drove you wild and Logan wore it way too well.

You hated the effect he had on you but couldn't help it.

“What do you expect me to do? Keep them in class longer? They could be using their time better like studying for their midterms. So, excuse me for wanting them to actually be productive.”

You say in frustration while crossing your arms.

“Whatever. Enjoy your little training session. Let’s just hope it actually works before you screw things up again.” He walks out.

You stood there for a moment, silent and still, letting the frustration settle. But there was no way in hell you were letting Logan be the one to ruin your day. So you pulled yourself together, pushed the irritation aside, and shifted your focus back to training.

(Logan's POV)

There’s something about Y/N that just… irritates me, and I can’t even explain why. Honestly, I feel like an asshole half the time for being so hard on her. She’s never actually done anything to me. If anything, she’s been nothing but respectful...hell, even kind. Especially when I first got here.

She’s got that kind of presence that changes the energy in a room. Like, when she walks in, the air feels lighter. There’s this warmth about her something real. Her eyes light up when she teaches, and yeah, I’ve caught myself lingering more than once.

You can tell she actually cares about the kids. She's passionate, dedicated. The kind of professor who gives a damn, which is rare. And maybe that’s what scares me the most. Her kindness. Because it’s real. And when something’s real, it’s vulnerable. It’s fragile. And the people I care about? They always end up getting hurt when I let them get close.

So I do what I’ve always done! push people away. Burn the bridge before it even gets built. And when it comes to Y/N? Yeah… mission accomplished.

"Alright, everyone, grab a seat… your professor decided to cut her lecture short, so I guess I’ll be the one picking up the slack."

“It was a short lecture because it was a midterm review,” Rogue chimed in. “She was just going over what we need to study.”

“Yeah! I mean, it’s not like we had anything else to cover might as well leave early,” Bobby added, casually shrugging his shoulders.

“Right… well, some of us professors actually believe in using the full class to teach something,” I scoffed, shooting him a look.

Damn, she really had these kids ready to go to war for her.

Storm happened to walk by just as the words left my mouth. She paused, giving me that signature disapproving glare.

“Logan… might I have a word with you after your class? It’s important.”

“Uh, yeah sure. I should be wrapping up in about an hour,” I replied.

“Charles’ office. One hour.” She said coldly before walking away.

Great. I could already feel whatever’s coming. And it's about to be a fucking earful.

1 Hour Passes - Both Logan and Storm are in Charles Office

"Logan, I’ve been informed that you’ve been speaking disrespectfully about one of our professors to the students in her absence," Charles said the moment I stepped into his office.

I glanced over at Storm, already annoyed.

“I wouldn’t call it being disrespectful...just voicing some frustration,” I muttered.

Storm rolled her eyes. “Oh, cut the crap, Logan. We all know how you’ve been treating Y/N since day one. You haven’t given her a break.”

"Jesus, is that what you guys do? Sit around gossiping about me during your girl time?" I shot back. "I didn’t even say her name."

"You didn’t need to," Storm said in a sharp tone. "It was obvious who you were talking about, especially since she teaches right before you."

“Yeah, well, forgive me for being a little pissed that she half-assed her lectures, cuts class early, and then takes over the training room like it’s her personal sanctuary. In the end I’m the one left to clean up the mess she leaves behind."

“Alright, both of you, just stop—” Charles started, but everyone froze when Y/N walks in, clearly upset.

“Y/N…” Storm said softly.

“Oh, don’t mind me interrupting Logan’s little rant,” Y/N snapped, her gaze locking with mine. “I just thought I’d come in here to defend myself, since apparently, there’s some misleading information being spread behind my back.”

Y/N gaze remained fixed on mine

“For the record, I couldn’t care less what you think about me, my teaching style, or how I run my classes,” she continued. “But one thing I won’t tolerate is you making me look bad in front of my students. So, I suggest you respectfully shut the fuck up and mind your own fucking business.”

With that, she stormed out, leaving the room in silence.

Charles let out a sigh. “Logan, I get that you have your issues with her, but for the record, she’s never spoken a word against you. In fact, she’s always spoken highly of you, especially when it comes to the students.”

Storm turned to look at me. “Exactly. And you have no idea what she’s been through, so maybe—”

“Alright, alright, fine!” I cut her off, rubbing my temples in frustration. “I get it. I’m sorry. I won’t say anything else.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “It’s not us you should be apologizing to, Logan.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “When she’s ready to talk to me, I’ll apologize. Until then, I’m not losing any sleep over it.” With that, I storm out.

Jesus, does she always have to be such a pain in the ass?

(Y/N's POV)

Why did Logan have to be such a dick? I was so done with him. Anger and frustration flooded my mind as I made my way back to my room.

I walked in, flopped onto my bed, and replayed the whole scene from Charles' office in my head. Disappointment washed over me. I knew I wouldn’t always get to work with people I liked, but sometimes, Logan made being here feel downright miserable.

Normally, I’d grab a coffee and settle down with a good book, but not tonight. Instead, I put on my headphones, listened to some music, and decided to call it a night.

Later that Night

I was suddenly woken by groaning and screams coming from next door. It was Logan. This wasn’t the first time he’d had a nightmare since he got here, but this one sounded worse than usual.

I quickly made my way to his door and knocked softly. "Logan? It’s me, Y/N… Are you okay?"

A few students started to come out of their rooms, looking confused and concerned.

"Hey guys, it’s fine. Just go back to bed, there’s nothing to see here," I called out, trying to reassure them as I continued knocking on his door.

Still no response. But I could hear him thrashing around and shouting. So, with no other choice, I opened the door and stepped inside.

He was out cold, completely consumed by whatever nightmare had him in its grip. Given that my powers revolve around controlling dreams, I made the call to step in and settle it down.

Does he deserve the help? Fuck no. But I’m not doing this for him. I’m doing it so I can actually get my beauty sleep and so the kids aren’t up all night because Logan can’t keep his demons in check.

My hands moved carefully to either side of his face, fingers brushing his temples as I let my powers take control. As soon as I entered his mind, I was hit by a wave of agony raw, brutal, and suffocating. It was the kind of nightmare I hadn’t seen in a long time.

The dream was chaos. Logan was locked inside some kind of containment tank, submerged in water. Thick cables and syringes jabbed into his body, pumping him full of some liquid. His bones being coated, reforged. He was writhing in pain, completely helpless. Then came the man behind it all a cold-eyed figure with graying hair and a twisted sense of control. Stryker, his name tag read.

“Erase his memory,” he ordered.

And just like that, Logan snapped. He went feral, unleashing pure, animalistic rage. He tore through everything, blinded by pain and confusion. No wonder he was screaming in his sleep, this wasn’t just a nightmare, it was a memory. Or what was left of one. The whole thing felt fragmented, like someone had ripped pieces of it out and tried to stitch it back together wrong.

I steadied myself, made my presence known in the dream, and slowly began shifting the environment around him. Replacing pain with calm, torment with peace. Even if the memory never happened, I crafted something soft, something warm to anchor him. He didn’t need to know it was fake. I just needed the nightmare to end… for him to breathe again.

In an instant, I was ripped out of the dream and slammed back into reality flat on my back with a heavy weight crushing my chest and a hand clamped tight around my neck. Logan. He’d shot up from the nightmare in full survival mode, claws out, eyes wide with panic.

“Logan! It’s me...Y/N!” I gasped, struggling to get the words out through the pressure on my throat.

His expression shifted the moment he recognized me. He let go and stumbled back, his breathing was unsteady and his chest was heaving like he’d just dug his way out of a warzone.

“Y/N?” he snapped, voice rough. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

I struggled to catch my breath, coughing lightly while rubbing my neck. (Damn, that's gonna leave a bruise...) I thought to myself.

"You woke up the whole damn school with all that screaming," you muttered, arms crossed. "I was just trying to help, alright?"

"I don’t need your fucking help," he growled while raising his voice. "I never asked for it."

You shot him a glare. "God, why are you being such an asshole? You were clearly having a nightmare I only stepped in to calm it down. That’s literally all I did."

"Yeah? Well stay the fuck out of my head," he snapped. "And stay the hell out of my room."

Rage surged through your body as you stepped closer, getting right up in his face despite the obvious height difference. "You know what!?" you yelled, eyes burning with frustration. "Next time, I'll leave you to drown in your own fucking memories and misery. I’ll let you stay trapped in those nightmares, suffering. Hell, I hope the next one’s worse than this one."

You took a step back, and added, "I hope you have a shitty night" and walked out slamming his bedroom door shut behind you.

As you turned to head back to your room, you noticed nearly all the students gathered in the hallway, huddled together and staring at you. They heard everything.

Shit.....

Hope you guys liked part 1! Part 2 to come soon. Comment below if you want me to tag you for that :)

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chaoticbardlady99 · 2 years ago

Text

I Don't Wanna Be Your Friend (Astarion x GN! Reader)

This man has a chokehold on me and I have been plagued by this idea for about a week.

Title inspired by the song "i wanna be your girlfriend" by girl in red

CW: Mentions of violence and gore (not descriptive), bit of angst, comfort

(Not my photo. I believe it belongs to Daily Gaming)

Synopsis- You and Astarion are in the middle of a war to prove who can set the best traps. However, a lack of rules seems to have gotten you into a predicament neither one of you had anticipated.

Sometimes you take it a smidge too far.

You would love to tell people you are some cunning, daring rogue, but the reality is that you are consistently flying by the seat of your pants. Occasionally it works really well- this was not one of those times.

You never felt the need to prove anything to anyone.

Well, until you met Astarion. Within the first three days of traveling with him, your confidence and patience began to wear thin. He would make snide comments when watching you attempt to unlock a chest or when you scare off your prey by tripping over a bush. Then he would smirk at you- with that stupid, beautiful smirk.

He enjoys adding salt to the wound by taking on the task you failed at; usually lock picking, sneak attacks, and Gods only knows what else he could make fun of you for. You are very aware that you are not some fancy rogue and it never bothered you until now. You had accepted long ago that you are just a street urchin moving up in the world after teaching yourself the trade.

The final straw had been when you had placed traps to catch dinner. Your traps had been successful (naturally- traps were your thing) and you brought back three bunnies for Gale’s stew.

Oh, but of course Astarion had something to say. He always has something to say.

“Oh look at that- how cute. I’m sure sheerluck was on your side,” he quips, “You’ll get better eventually.”

Thus began the war of all wars.

It started with small traps- nuisances really. Tripwire, a laughing or sleep rune well hidden, and traps that release horrible smells. Then it quickly took a turn for the worst; what were once harmless pranks turned into trip wires that release a swarm of bees, simple pits began to get deeper, and blasting traps that would send either one of you flying into a nearby object. It was never truly life threatening, just questionable.

Well, except for the bees. The bees were not the greatest thought in hindsight; considering both you and Astarion had to help each other with the bee stings- Shadowheart refusing to be involved. You both laughed and he even complimented you on your cleverness. You swore you could have exploded in that moment.

You have a massive, childish crush on the man and maybe the competition was your subconscious way of getting closer to him. However, your other companions were getting sick of it pretty quickly.

They had all hoped after the Tiefling party that the two of you would put your silly competition to rest so that you could all travel together in peace and they would just have to deal with PDA.

What a silly thing for them to think. PDA hasn't happened, but the pranks did become less risky and less frequent. You were okay with this change.

You feel like you and Astarion have become close friends. Even though your tryst didn’t lead to a romantic relationship as you had hoped, you were happy to have Astarion in your life in any capacity. If that was just as a friend- then so be it.

Which brings us back to the beginning- when you realize that your ‘trap war’ had paper thin rules and the lack of rules just might be the thing that actually kills you on this journey.

All you wanted to do was clean yourself off. It had been one last relaxing day before you set off to the Creche, but you had thought you might treat yourself. Baths were rare and far between these days and you want to enjoy it while you have it. However, you were not planning for a simple snare trap to foil your entire evening.

You get hoisted up into the air, slammed against the tree, and drop all of your belongings- including the knife you brought ‘just incase’. You glared at the knife and put your hand to your blood fountain of a nose.

“Traitor,” you whisper with a pout as you look for a way to escape the trap.

Suddenly, you freeze as instincts kick in. You hear the Gnolls before you see them. Your bloody nose from the impact of the tree had led them to you. They attempt to claw at you- trying to rip you down from the tree. You feel their claws tear into your back, the side of your arms, and one of them even manages to take a swipe at your abdomen as you scramble to escape. The cuts weren't life threatening, but they hurt. A LOT.

You manage to use the rope to pull yourself up onto one of the tree limbs; allowing you to hide some of your body from the Gnolls, but you now have an arrow protruding out of your right thigh so obviously that isn’t working well either.

You bite back tears, frozen in fear. You really did not want to die this way and you certainly didn’t want it to be because of Astarion’s trap. You have a feeling he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you died because of him.

You can imagine the blame and anger the rest of your companions would direct at him if the worst happened. You imagine the bloodshed- knowing full well that everyone (minus Karlach) would not forgive him for accidentally killing you. Lae’zel would be the first one to put a stake in his chest- her fondness for you is no secret.

Your heart thumps painfully at that thought and your resolve hardens. You will not die because you will not let that happen to Astarion.

You look around, your arms and legs shaking still with the residual shock and fear. You look for any sharp branches, a forgotten knife lodged somewhere, or even something you could cast a cantrip on to distract them. You have no such luck.

You resign yourself to your fate- the tears making a reappearance.

Unless one of your companions finds you first- you are going to either have to wait for the Gnolls to get bored and leave or they are going to kill you.

You pray to every God you can think of that you will survive the night.

_________________________________________________

Astarion is trying to not look so desperate as he reads the first page for the hundredth time.

You had walked off a little over two hours ago- Lae’zel is on watch while the rest of your companions sleep soundly in their bed rolls.

The longer your bedroll remains empty, the more the pit grows in his stomach.

He didn’t know how to navigate your relationship after the tiefling party.

His feelings for you are confusing. The sex had felt different, he enjoys your company immensely, and he likes how warm he feels around you.

Instead of talking to you like a normal person or taking a moment to reflect, he decided to find some common ground- something you could laugh and talk about later. Normalcy.

He set up a snare trap close to the river you were all using to clean off and then a laughter rune trap somewhere on the path to the Creche. Hypothetically, they are very safe traps.

Unless he rigged them wrong? What if you ran into one of them and….

No, I am sure they are just fine.

He doesn’t even believe his own lie.

After about another five minutes, the anxiety rolling in his stomach becomes unbearable so he grabs his daggers and sets off in the direction you had gone two hours earlier.

He walks quickly through the forest, checking his surroundings and looking for evidence that you were close by. As the minutes pass, he feels the hope of finding you safe shrink.

The wind hits his nose and he becomes stock-still.

He smells your blood- an alarming amount of it-in the air as he gets closer to the river. He fears the worst as he goes to look at the trap- hoping you will forgive him- that you are alive. Safe.

He peers through the bushes and his eyes grow wide as the scene before him unfolds.

You are stuck up in the tree- his trap is still around your ankle. You are holding onto the branch like your life depends on it. It probably does since there are five Gnolls circling the tree like vultures.

He can hear your soft broken sobs as arrows fly over you or hit the tree. He notices the arrow in your leg and watches as a second one lodges itself into your calf. You wince and close your eyes tightly- unknown to you that Astarion’s vision is clouded in red and his whole body fills with destructive, hot rage. He also feels fear, but he pushes it away, not ready to explore the why.

He lunges forward, slashing at the Gnolls with so much force that they are practically in half by the time they hit the forest floor. He is a man possessed as he carves his way through all five gnolls and then he climbs up the tree to you.

His chest aches as he looks at you. He will never be able to forgive himself for causing you so much suffering.

“Darling,” he says softly.

You whimper in response and when you look at him- he feels all the air leave his lunges. If he needed air, he would have passed out right then. Your eyes were glassy with traces of fear, sadness, and loneliness- all emotions he is all too familiar with. Then you see it’s him and the biggest smile crosses your lips and you look at him with so much affection he almost feels ill. This was not the plan and he almost made you a midnight snack for a group of Gnolls.

“You found me,” you say in a raspy, raw voice, “I thought I was going to be stuck here all night until Karlach or Gale found me. Or I was going to die.”

You chuckle, but Astarion can’t get himself to share your same enthusiasm about his rescue mission as he cuts the rope.

He helps you down the tree and safely back on the ground. Astarion winces as you pull the arrows out of your leg. You find a healing potion amongst your things and chug it.

He collects your stuff for you. You give him another one of those brilliant smiles and Astarion tries to smile just as brightly back. You furrow your brows, but he turns away before you can keep analyzing him.

“We should head back,” Astarion mumbles.

______________________________________________

The silence hangs in the air as Astarion walks with you back to camp. After about 15 minutes, you are back at camp and the tension in the air is suffocating.

“Astarion.”

Astarion freezes, turns on his heels, and looks everywhere but your eyes. He couldn’t bare to see you smile at him again- look at him like that again- not after he almost killed you.

You maneuver yourself so you are looking in his eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” he begins to protest when you shush him, “we didn’t set any rules and the trap itself was harmless. We didn't account for Gnolls when we started this whole thing.”

“I almost got you killed.”

“But you didn’t. It easily could have been you in that situation and me saving you.”

“Will you please stop being so Gods damn forgiving,” he huffs with exasperation as he feels tears prick his eyes, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I put your life in danger. I almost-”

Lost you. He chokes on the words. The fear from earlier begins to come back to the front of his mind. Watching you cling to that tree, crying, and in pain had made him realize that you just might be more important to him than he cares to admit. However, that’s a conversation for another time- once he sorts out what that feeling in his chest is whenever he looks at you.

You look at him sharply, your eyes raw with sadness, “Stop that right now. I am okay. I lived. It was a mistake and I know your intentions were not bad. You don’t have anything to worry about Star.”

He doesn’t say anything and you hang your head.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I- I should go-“ Astarion pauses as you interrupt him.

“Please don’t leave,” you whisper, “I rather enjoy your company.”

You look at him with tears welling in your eyes. He stares at you in stunned silence, searching your face for any sign of deception, but he doesn't find it. His body moves before his brain can process what he is doing.

Astarion gently cradles your face in his hands and kisses you slowly, softly. He smiles despite himself when a gasp leaves your lips. You're alive and safe. When the warmth in his chest begins to spread throughout the rest of his body, he pulls away and steps back. Your face is flushed, a beautiful blush spreading across your cheeks. You look at him with wide, unblinking eyes before you shyly smile. Astarion could have melted in that moment. He finds himself smiling too.

“Well I’m assuming that means you are going to stay?”

“I suppose I’ll stay,” he says while tapping his chin, “you do need someone to make sure you aren’t getting into trouble like that again.”

You feign hurt and scoff, “Are you suggesting that this was my fault?”

“Maybe if you were better with traps that wouldn’t have happened,” Astarion teases.

You narrow your eyes at Astarion and you try to hold back a smile. You roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him.

You start towards camp before you pause and turn around. Astarion gives you a confused look.

You run over to him and place a kiss on his cheek. He tenses for a moment before relaxing again. You look at him sweetly, a soft smile on your lips.

“Good night Astarion.”

As you saunter towards your respective tents, Astarion takes one last glance at your tent- at you- before he lays down with his book. Except he still can’t get past the first page- he is too anxious for the sun to come up so that he can see your smile again.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion x you #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 #astarion x gn!tav #bg3 companions

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brucewaynehater101 · 1 year ago

Note

So one of my favorite tropes is Jason or Dick going "mine now" and adopting every bat kid to come after them, and turning Bruce into a father in legality only, a reluctant grandfather in reality

See the endnotes of both "Dynamic" by Cant_Smoke_Eggs and " bystander" by greeneyedfirework

And also the Crimelord Tim-Never-Robins AU is making me tear up rn so I'm just gonna kindly take the ideas of that AU and the Carrion Crows and and shove them all into a blender to—

☆・★・・・★・☆

Tim Drake's parents are as awful as they are in the Never-Robin verse but here he—to put things horrifically lightly—convinces himself out of it

Oh yes, what you're describing is abuse and it's wrong! What did you say about his parents? They do everything he agrees is abuse? No! You misunderstand, they aren't abusive they're . . .

When Jason dies and Tim blackmails his way into Robinhood, into making sure his last remaining light in this world lives and stays as via shining as he always sees him, he get's a proper excuse

Not that he could ever tell others of course

But it's just what he personally needed

How could my parents ever be abusive? Batman hardly ever remarks about them and sometimes he even trains me more painfully then whenever my parents are back home!

☆・★・・・★・☆

Thus goes his life until he comes across a girl and her ward

Or maybe baby brother is more appropriate

Introducing Cassandra Cain, League of Assassin's renegade extraordanaire

And who does she have with her? It's only Damian al Ghul, blood son of Talia and Brucie!

Yeah, some time during or after Jason's departure from the League, Cassandra by sheer chance got in the same room as Damian

A fucking child which horrified her, so she snatched that kid and dipped

Damian telling her stories about his father and big brother both from Gotham gave her a clear direction of where to head

☆・★・・・★・☆

Not that they tell Tim this, they've hardly met him

They tell Robin silly! Damian in particular is insistent that the vigilante introduce him to his father as he is the blood son

Tim—wanting to help Batman since his plate is full—says it will take some time but he knows someone who can give a place to stay, they can trust his verified associate

Thus is how the two move into the Drake Manor with Timothy Drake full-time

It's nice, he accommodates for their needs and teaches them whatever they don't know

Cassandra quickly clues in—and informs the latter—on Tim and Robin being one & the same

When Cassandra confronts Tim about this, he does his best to calmly (are you sure about that young boy?) justify himself

He recounts the rise of Batman, of the first Robin turned Nightwing, and the Second Robin until his death

Batman's grief would descend into him transforming his vigilantism into a suicide mission

And Gotham? Gotham may be a horrifically corrupt city now, but before Batman it was hell on earth

It was already slipping back into there, what with lifelong hospital bills, disabilities, and job loss being indiscriminately handed out left and right

Though, Batman's rogues weren't facing the brunt of his rage nearly as much as most desperate criminals he came across, just trying to survive

Thus, to keep Gotham from tumbling back into the days before Batman, and to keep the hero from killing himself (because saying 'get himself killed' is dishonest) he blackmailed himself into the Robin role to act as Bat's leash and caretaker

He realized he may have miscalculated when Cassandra's knuckles go bone white

☆・★・・・★・☆

Cassandra had several moments where she has second-thoughts about bringing Damian to his father, and now they're solidifying

She subsequently informs said baby brother that "holy shit, you're father is a monster" with stories what she learns about him, albeit mildly omitting the nastier details she doesn't want Damian to know at his young age

Doesn't help when they both notice the injuries Tim doesn't even get on patrol but training and he has to go to Agent A or himself for medical aid

☆・★・・・★・☆

Tim Drake always saw himself an exception to justice. His parent love him and he has a duty to Batman

Whe his parents come home he tells them about his new friends staying over for some time

After working it out with the two, they even have their identities legalized and nobody will bat an eye at their presence with Tim

The Drakes come home and one moment he's introducing his parents to his friends

The next he's closing an incinerator room's doors with a lockpick

How . . . ?

☆・★・・・★・☆

during Tim's blackout, Janet and Jack made some classist and other comments towards Damian and Cassandra, and since their legal identities are of orphans, and went as far as to threaten abuse knowing they'd get away with it

That caused something in Tim to break and finally do his parents in

Upon realizing what he's done, Tim is going to be pretty hysterical and grieving and when Cass ask's what's up he immediately breaks down

☆・★・・・★・☆

So yeah, Tim has to hide his parent's death and speedrun becoming secret CEO until he can become one publicly

Step number one? Get Cassandra and Damian adopted by the late Drakes and insert them into their wills

Cassandra and Damian stick with Tim because they care for him, he's also single handedly providing for them, plus they don't want to test their luck with Batman at all

Damian is having an identity crisis because he was taught to take pride in his blood but his father who's been hella hyped up has brutalized his new big brother repeatedly

Maybe Tim stumbles across Stephanie and Duke, and gets them adopted too

Maybe we have a Jason with less of his screws loose and he walks up to Tim and is like "where are you parents" "they're totally alive!" "Holy shit you're an orphan actively distancing yourself from the batman because he abused you *adopts him as son*" or maybe Dick Grayson fathers instead, idk

Or maybe Jason here is still willing to pull a Titans Tower idk

My brain is melting lol

Holy hell. I love this AU. Tim adopting his other family members is near and dear to me. He has the means to and has canonically made up fake family members. He can totally throw someone into his family legally (and technically illegally).

Have you seen Damian Drake? This kind of reminds me of that fic, but with Cass in it and the Drakes dead. For this AU, it would be precious if Damian starts to take pride in Tim's last name instead. That, or they could create a new one for the 3 of them (until Dick, Jason, Duke, and others join [Steph is always weird cause she dated Tim. It's similar to how Babs isn't legally considered family/siblings, but she's still part of the family]).

Damian thus has legal to claim to both Drake Industries and Wayne Enterprises (if he ever chooses to disclose his relation to Bruce). The best part of this is that Tim is building a large family by stealing them all from Bruce (cause fuck that man).

Also, Cass and Damian should interact more in fanwork. I'm so glad that you have them as such in this. Similar to Steph and Damian, I don't see that relationship as much which is sad. They have such great sibling bonds.

Two more thoughts: One, I love the characterization of Tim stepping back into his body to find he had murdered his parents and just rolling with it (besides the mandatory breakdown). He just figures it out cause it is what it is. Two, how old is Tim in this? Does he immediately become CEO or try to pretend his parents are still alive?

I'm also imagining Tim just gathering all these people, and he's not necessarily their leader/boss, but he does provide for them. He guides them and supports them. He's like a family mafia boss, but without any command or orders. The others are free to do as they please, but they tend to run decisions against each other

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #damian wayne #dc au #cass wayne #thank you for the ask!!!!

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