#it’s after he and erik go into his bedroom together

[dick-helmet-magneto]

asexual cherik where everyone thinks chess is a metaphor for them fucking nasty but they really are just playing chess maybe with alcohol or a cup of tea

[puckinghischier]

Moments where you’re dancing on the line between friendship and something more w/ Nico? I need some fluff this morning.

I hope you have a great Sunday 💓

you catch yourself realizing the line is blurred the most when it comes to your daily routine. just the simple, mundane things you find yourself doing with him.

because really, do friends meet up for coffee every morning? whether its at one another’s apartment or out at a local coffee shop, you never miss your morning coffee dates when nico is in town. if he hosts, he buys breakfast pastries or cooks a whole homemade spread, always praising his mom’s recipes. if you’re hosting, its donuts and cereal, because you should never be trusted in a kitchen.

do friends meet up for lunch every day, even after having already met for breakfast and coffee? if he isn’t meeting you out for a quick bite somewhere close to the rink, you’re showing up at the arena with take out, or to wait on him until he’s done. the only other people you ever see there are the other player’s girlfriends or wives and their kids. you never see just a ‘buddy’ or a ‘friend’ there.

do friends take naps in the same bed, bodies pressed so tightly together you can feel every breath the other person takes? it doesn’t matter if its your place or nico’s, you’re always waiting for him somewhere after practice. he immediately walks through the door, either flinging himself on top of you on the couch, or dragging you to stand, pulling you towards the bedroom. he’d groggily kick his shoes off and throw his hat somewhere in the room before crawling into the soft, warm bed, patting the space beside of him for you to crawl into. “need m’teddy bear please,” he’d barely mumble, sounding like a kid whining for his favorite toy. the second you’d lay down, he’s pulling your body flush against his, squeezing you just tight enough you can still breathe, but ensuring you’re not going anywhere during the course of the nap.

do friends constantly accompany their friends to couples outings with his teammates, nobody ever questioning your presence? you always sit with jesper and nicole, having bonded with her the most over the course of yours and nico’s ‘friendship’. the first time he ever introduced you to her, she told you how lovely it was to meet ‘the infamous captain’s girl’ jesper always told her so much about. when you corrected her and told her you two were just friends, you noticed the look her and jesper shared, but she apologized and the conversation moved on. you still catch them looking at the two of you suspiciously sometimes. like when nico’s had a few too many glasses of wine with dinner and his hand finds its way to the back of your chair, or the exposed skin of your thigh. every few minutes he looks over at you with a wide grin, eyes glossy and happy from his buzz. “y’having fun, schatz?” he’d slightly slur, leaning his face so close to yours you can smell the sweet wine on his breath. “mhmmm” you’d hum back, giggling at his relaxed state. “you ever gonna tell me what that means, swiss miss?” you’d ask him, poking his dimple, your own silly nickname returned, as it is every time you as him that question. “nope,” he’d giggle, popping his ‘p’ before tuning back into his conversation with erik and kristen. you’d look over to see nicole and jesper looking at you, their own knowing grins on their faces.

do friends travel back home with one another every year? for as long as you can remember, nico has insisted you join him on his trip back home to switzerland each summer before he joins you on your own visits back home around the holidays. he takes you on all of his adventures when he’s back in his mountains. you’ve met every single one of his childhood friends, and his family treats you as one of their own at this point. you’ve even asked nina to teach you some swiss german, so you can keep up a little bit better when you’re out and about. of course, the first word you ask her about is ‘schatz’, but she won’t tell you either, asking if nico ever calls you that. “well yeah, but mostly when he’s been drinking a little bit and his languages start mixing together,” you laugh, thinking about how often he gets tongue tied between german and english after a few beers. her eyes sparkle with something you can’t decipher, stating you’ll figure it out eventually. but when you hear rino utter the name to katja one evening at dinner, you assume it doesn’t mean ‘friend’.

do friends gift each other personalized jewelry with the other’s jersey number? when nico joins you on your ventures back home it’s usually around the holidays, not wanting him to be alone, but knowing he doesn’t have time to get back to switzerland with his schedule. and he always works together with your parents to have all of your gifts he buys you shipped to your parents house, claiming he doesn’t want to risk you snooping and finding them hidden somewhere in his apartment. he even buys for your parents and siblings, just as they buy for him at this point. but every year, he gifts you something branded with the number 13 on it. one year it was a personalized jersey you could wear to his home games, the next it was your own practice hoodie since you constantly tell nico how comfy his is. he even had a customized charm made for your crowded charm bracelet, a small, red 13 with devil horns curved around the top of the number. this year, though, it’s the most beautiful silver necklace you had ever seen, a dainty number 13 hanging from the chain, small red diamonds outlining the silver numbers. on the smooth back of the modest charm, you read the small engraving of ‘merry christmas, schatz’. you thank him as he fastens the jewelry around your neck, telling him how beautiful it as and how much you love it. but the entire time your brain is clogged with thoughts of that damn name again, wondering how much longer you can convince yourself that this is how friends behave.

at the next game of his after the holiday break, you’re in your seat with nicole, one of nico’s jerseys on your back, your new necklace resting delicately around your neck. of course, when nicole spotted the shiny new addition, she didn’t say a word. the two of you opted for glass seats this game, considering it was an important rivalry game for the team. the fast paced game never slowed down once all night, each team responding with their own goal each time their opponents scored. but when the devils found their self in overtime, racing back and forth to try and score before their opponents, nico caught your eye when he was on the bench, getting ready to go out for a shift. his eyes trailed down to the necklace resting in-between your collar bones, a new glint in his eye while you waved at him and mouthed an encouraging ‘you’ve got this!’ with two thumbs up. he winks in response right before he stands and glides out onto the ice. no sooner than his skates hit the slippery ground, jesper passes him the puck as nico glides expertly around the opposing three players, planting himself right in front of their goaltender as he takes his shot. the puck slides right in-between the large, closing leg pads, the goaltender not quite fast enough in his movements. the horn sounds, signaling the devils win. you and nicole jump up, cheering for your boys while they celebrate on the ice. and when you’re waiting for the two of them to exit the locker room afterwards, jesper coming out first and giving you a small smile before making his way to nicole, you turn back to see nico coming through the large door, smiling widely as he walks right to you. before you can even get a word out, nico’s dropping his bag and taking your face between his hands, pulling your face towards his and capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

once he pulls back you look at him in shock, trying to process what just happened. “i-…nico what was that?” you stutter, not registering the whoops and hollers coming from jesper and nicole. “something i’ve been wanting to do for a very long time, schatz,” he grins, pulling you back in for a other searing kiss. this time you kiss him back, face heating when you finally register the cheers coming from behind you, not caring in the slightest that this is definitely something friends don’t do.

[marifilue]

Part 1: New Guy In Town

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader - Slow burn, you have regenerative healing ability, skilled with guns and rifles, no use of y/n, reader in her 50s but because of her ability looked like in her mid 20s. Logan is from the first X-Men movie era.

Warnings: Explicit language, nothing much but we'll get there

Wc: 4,2k

A voice echoes in your mind, Professor Xavier calling your name, his presence is sharp and commanding. God, he always knew how to make a grand approach. You jumped at the unexpected voice as he instructed you to meet him downstairs. You set down your book, breath caught. Then, with a quick step, you head for the door.

Grabbing a red cardigan from the hanger just behind your bedroom door and leaving your book, now neglected, by the bed, you walk down the hallway. Dusty windows let in streaks of morning sunlight, warming the cold, shadowed hallway.

You step down two floors via the stairs to reach the main floor. Just when you’re about to reach for the handle, the door swings open, and suddenly you’re staring at a stranger, a tall rugged man who left no room for the doorway, his shadow casting over you. Weird hair style, are those a mutton chops hanging by his chin? Those belonged in a period dramas, not in Professor Xavier’s polished hallway. His X-Men sweater is unzipped halfway, chest hair on full display, which he doesn't seem to be bothered. Could’ve zipped it all the way up, but for some reason known only to God, he left it halfway at seven a.m. in freezing cold.

"And, Logan, meet Hollow" Charles said, introducing the strange man to you by your mutation's name. As you peeked to the side and get a better view of Charles since this guy is blocking the entire doorway. You shot him a confused glance; must be another stray that Charles had picked up. Not that it’s a bad thing—you were a stray once, rescued by Charles after escaping some twisted government experiment.

The man turns back to Charles and points at Ororo, who’s already in the room with Scott. "Storm?" he questioned, pointing to Ororo. "Cyclops," pointing to Scott. Then, "Hollow," he said, pointing at you. You swear you've never heard a voice that deep, did he do that on purpose?

He scoffed, "And what do they call you? Wheels?" Mocking all of the names and even the Professor. Where did Charles find this guy?

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "That’s a lot of attitude for a guy with mutton chops." you muttered, eyeing him warily as he turns his head back at you.

He scoffs, "Hollow? That even a real name?" he said, your eyebrows furrowed together, resisting the urge to show him exactly why they called you that. You ignored him and stepped forward, purposely bump his left shoulder so you could enter the room with force- since he choose to stand right in the entrance door.

"My name is Charles Xavier," Charles said. You manage to keep your voice steady as you ask, "What’s going on, professor?" But part of you wonders if you’re ready for whatever answer he’ll give.

"Logan here and his companion, a young mutant named Marie, were attacked by other mutants under the influence of an old friend of mine, Erik Lehnsherr. I'm not very fond of what Erik is currently engaged in, and I believe his intentions are not positive," Charles explained, and you catch a glimpse of the— what was his name again?mutton-chops guy looked utterly confused.

"You and Marie is safe here Logan, we need to figured out what is Magneto's up to first." Ororo said "Hollow, I believe there’s a room available across from yours on the third floor. Would you mind showing Logan around the school and then leading him to his room?" Charles glanced at you with his usual smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. You had to admit that smile was a bit creepy, and his request was now undeniable.

"Sure, Professor," you replied shortly. Glancing at Logan "Chop chop, mutton chops." prompting him to follow you as you leave the office. If looks could kill, you'd be the first to die staring into those hazel eyes.

"You seem really intrigued by my mutton chops, aren't ya?" he said, following your steps from behind as you show him the classroom through the hallway. The school bells ring, and the kids make their way into the hallway, minding their own business. You snort a little laugh, low enough for him to hear. "What?" he demanded, wanting an explanation.

Now entering the kitchen and finding the door to the backyard. "I've only seen those in period dramas they haven't exactly been in style for, like, what? A century?" you said,

"Oh, I know that just fine. I was there when it was still in style," he replied stoically, stepping outside behind you. He now zips his sweater all the way up, which he should have done earlier.

"So your mutation is time traveling, huh? That's a first," you jumped to conclusions. He scoffs "That ain't it, bub. I'm just ol'." Standing beside you and staring into the green yard a hundred feet across. He tucks both of his arms into the pockets of his gray X-Men sweater.

"Like a hundred years old?" you asked, raising your eyebrows in pure curiosity. "Now that bald fella in a wheelchair have restored my memory back after attempting all night. I'm pretty sure I'm pushing a hundred and seventy. A thing I couldn't even remember for the last ten years." Logan responded whilst staring into the green yard. With this new information, you suddenly feel a slight sympathy toward him. A decade, that’s a long time to be lost.

"I have regenerative healing abilities too. If I'm right in guessing this time that's your mutation?" you said, glancing to your left to catch his profile. "Really? How old are ya?" he asks, his tone now filled with curiosity.

"Whoa, whoa. I don’t think it’s socially acceptable in today’s society to ask a woman her age," you replied sarcastically, bringing your hand to cover your mouth. "Fifty-five years old, and nobody needs to know," you whispered just loud enough for him to hear. He can’t help but smile softly, amused by your humor.

Logan brings his left arm up, rubbing his temple with the tips of his index and middle fingers. "Listen, I, uh... I've had a long night. Can we just cut the tour short and show me the room?" He said with low voice, continues to rub his temple before pinching the bridge of his nose. His slight mood shift makes you want to question him further, but you simply nod in understanding. "Come, follow me," you say as you head back into the mansion.

The next three minutes pass in silence, filled only with faint echoes from the classrooms—the low murmurs of students, chairs scraping on floors. The mansion’s grandness always felt both comforting and isolating. Logan trails two steps behind, eyes flicking over the wood-paneled walls, the high arched ceilings, and the faint burn marks from past battles. After climbing two stories, you reach the third-floor hallway. This floor has eight rooms—four on each side—and now that Logan is the last person to occupy one. You on the other hand were the first, a little over two years ago. Sometimes you wondered if you’d ever truly settle in. This floor is more sophisticated than the students' quarters, designed for teachers and offering much more privacy.

You twist the cool brass doorknob and push the door open. The faint scent of wood polish and dust greets you both. Noticing his belongings already sitting near the bed just one bag with enough clothes. Ororo must've dropped them off.

"Find me if you need anything." You said as he nods, offering a faint smile before you close the door "Thanks," he muttered. You force a polite nod with a gentle smile before heading down the hallway, sensing his gaze linger a beat too long. Whether out of interest or suspicion, you weren’t sure. though something in his tone leaves you wary.

A few feet away from the kitchen, a polite voice stops you. “Excuse me?” You turn your head and find a young girl with brunette hair standing nearby. “Hi there,” you responded, waiting for her to speak.

“I saw you with Wolverine earlier. Do you know where he is?” she asked. You give her a polite smile, a bit puzzled. “I’m sorry, who’s Wolverine?” you said, genuinely confused.

“Oh… his name’s Logan,” she clarifies, a little awkwardly. Wolverine? The name catches you off guard, but somehow it suits him. You nod. “And you are…?”

“Rogue. Marie, sometimes,” she said, her voice soft. It clicks in your mind, and you smile as you introduce yourself, welcoming her to the school. “I showed Logan to his room on the third floor. He said he needed some rest.” She gives a small nod but seems hesitant to leave. You notice her gloved hands, the fabric stretching past her elbows as if it’s meant to keep something hidden.

"Everything okay?" you asked, noticing her hesitation. She glances down, fidgeting with the edge of her glove. “I… well, it’s different here. But I’m dangerous. My mutation, it's not like most people’s.” She hesitates, looking up at you with a worried expression.

"Tell me more about it, what's your gift?" You softly encourage her. "When I touch someone… I absorb their energy, memories, powers… everything. I could really hurt someone.” There’s a heavy silence as she waits for your reaction, her gaze searching for any hint of fear or judgment. Instead, you give her a reassuring smile.

“I can’t imagine what that must feel like,” you said gently. “But, Marie, you’re safe here. This school is a place for people like us. No one’s going to judge you, and no one’s going to turn you away because of who you are.” She bites her lip, a mix of relief and doubt in her expression.

“It’s hard, though… feeling like I have to protect people from myself. Sometimes I wish I could just be normal.” You place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We all feel that way sometimes. But you don’t have to go through it alone anymore. Here, you’ve got people who understand and want to help you.”

A small smile breaks through her worry. “Thank you. I didn’t think… I didn’t think anyone would get it.” You return her smile warmly. “We do. You’re welcome here, just as you are.” She give a polite smiles before disappear into the hallway, after all it's her first day. She needs time to settle in.

The clock reads 7:38. It's Wednesday, and you have an English class to teach at nine—a little over an hour away—leaving you enough time to make a simple breakfast. You tiptoe over to the cupboard to grab some flour and then open the fridge to take out two eggs and a cartoon of milk. Setting down a bowl, you mix the flour with some sugar, then crack in the eggs, pour down the milk. You stir the mixture well until it forms a smooth pancake batter. You wait for the pan to heat before carefully pouring the batter just enough to form the perfect circle.

"You mind sharing a bite of that?" a deep voice suddenly appear. You glance over your shoulder, careful not to take your eyes off the half-cooked pancake, and see Logan leaning against the doorway, arms crossed.

You nudge the spatula under the pancake, flipping it with a practiced hand. "I thought you were resting," you said. "I was, but then my stomach grumbled. Haven't ate anythin' in two days," he told you.

"Alright, I'll let you have some. Sit down," you instructed him, and he willingly obliges. "Anythin I can help with?" he adds.

"No, don’t meddle with my business in the kitchen," you replied with a cocky tone, Logan’s lips twitched into a half-smirk, one brow lifting as he watches from his seat behind you when you quietly stand still in front of the stove, humming a melancholic song he’s never heard before. Your hair is messy, pulled into a bun with your favorite floral hair clip. The ends of your red cardigan sway in rhythm with your movements.

A few minutes pass, and the two plates of pancakes are ready, each stacked three high. You place them on the table, but something’s still missing—blueberries and maple syrup, you think to yourself. You head to the fridge to grab some blueberries; there are only a few left, and you make a mental note to restock soon.

"Actually, can you grab the water?" you asked him, reaching into the cupboard above the fridge for the maple syrup. "I thought you hated anyone meddlin' in the kitchen." Logan scoffed as he shifts from his seat, grabbing a glass. He fills it with water, though you didn't exactly pay attention because you're too busy on pouring just the right amount of maple syrup, not too much, just enough.

Logan returns to his seat and places your glass beside your plate. You carefully add blueberries to each plate, and when you’re satisfied, you sit across from Logan, glancing at the empty glass he placed for you. You also catch a look at his own glass, which he’s now drinking from, fully filled with water. "Seriously?" You glance him a death stare raising your eyebrows. He puts down the glass and before he could even blink, you tossed your glass directly to his chest with enough force so his reflexes could catch it, which he did.

"Whoa, relax. I'll get em for ya." He said with stupid grin and you can clearly see how much he's amused with your reaction. He shifts once again from his seat and fill in your glass. "Don't forget the silverware. And if you're only grabbing one set this time, I can eat for two." You jokingly threatened him.

"Aight, no need to get harsh." He came back to the table and handle you the silverware whilst putting the glass with his other hand. With just two of you in the kitchen, you ate the first bites in uncomfortable silences, besides you just met him not even an hour ago. He doesn't seems to mind with the silence but you sure as hell mind, a lot.

"So I guess Storm and Cyclops picked you?" You said staring at your plate and stole glances at his. He shrugged "Yeah, funny names." Bringing another spoon into his mouth, good god he's starving. "It's a code names, just like Wolverine" you tease him after learning he had his own codenames, what a hypocrite. He caught off guard with you mentioning the name Wolverine but refuse to engage further and change the topic immediately.

"What's your actual name then?" He asked and you muttered your first name. He repeated it and tells you how much better it sounds rather than Hollow. "How long you've been here?" He adds whilst taking another bite. "A little over two years now." You said.

"The kid you brought, she’s more than she seems, isn’t she?" You curiously asked as you've interact with Marie earlier. Your best assume was that she might be a relative, probably cousin? Niece?

"I actually had no idea. She's uh, sneak in the back of my van yesterday. Real tough and a fearless kid I must say." Logan said, remembering his accident yesterday.

"You just met her? Could’ve sworn you two were blood, the way you two look alike." You said bringing a spoonful of pancake into your mouth "No, I don't have any relatives left." As Logan finishes the last bite, you take a deep breath, deciding to push just a bit.

"So, I guess...the van's your home?" you asked, glancing over at him before your gaze drops back to your plate. He sets down his fork, pausing. "Home's a stretch." He gives a half-smile, but there's something dark in his eyes that tells you not to dig further.

You nod, realizing he’s probably not one to share personal stuff. "Makes sense. Things like homes don’t seem to last very long around here, anyway." Logan raises an eyebrow, and there's a flicker of understanding or maybe sympathy? But he doesn’t respond.

The silence between you feels almost comfortable now. Almost. You force yourself to finish the last few bites, knowing he’s ready to bolt. You barely have time to look up before Logan’s already heading for the door. He mutters a casual, “Thanks for the food,” without so much as a glance back. His plate sits abandoned on the table, crumbs scattered around it like he didn’t even consider cleaning up. Typical. You narrow your eyes, letting out a small huff as you grab his plate, biting back a string of curses. The water splashes as you scrub, each scrape of the sponge a bit more aggressive than the last.

Men always have it so fucking easy, you think, gritting your teeth. They breeze in, make a mess, and then just walk off without a second thought. Meanwhile, you’re here, elbow-deep in soap suds, trying not to dwell on how much that annoys you. Maybe it’s just him, you try to reason. Or maybe it’s every guy who thinks that dishes magically clean themselves.

“Welcome to the X-Men, I hope you’ll have a great stay. We might actually come with free chefs and maids.” You muttered under your breath, doing a mock impression of Logan’s gruff voice. You can’t help but smirk as you scrub the last of the dishes, feeling a bit of satisfaction in your sarcasm. “A free maid, huh?” The voice makes you jump slightly, and you whirl around to find Logan standing in the doorway, eyebrow raised.

He holds up his hands, looking almost—awkward? “I, uh… went to bathroom. Wasn’t plannin' to ditch the plate.” Heat rises in your face, but you straighten up, not letting him off that easily. “Could’ve fooled me,” you say, crossing your arms. “Most people just disappear after saying thank you.”

Logan’s eyes narrow, clearly not used to being called out. “Didn’t think I needed to narrate every move I make.” He steps closer, reaches past you, and picks up his plate. “But if it’ll get you off my back…” He gives a quick rinse and sets it on the drying rack, as if to make a point. You both stand there in silence, arms crossed, neither willing to look away first. Finally, Logan gives a low chuckle. “Guess I’ll just have to remember the maid service isn’t included next time, yeah?” You can’t help the small smirk that creeps onto your face. “Yeah, and don’t expect turndown service either.”

Logan shakes his head, amused. “Duly noted,” he says, before heading back down the hall, leaving you with an odd mix of satisfaction and lingering tension in the now-empty kitchen.

As the clock ticks closer to nine, the realization hits: you have an English class to teach. You tidy up the kitchen in haste, wipe your hands, and check your watch, calculating that if you hurry, you’ll just make it on time.

Your days as a teacher at Xavier’s school tend to follow a steady rhythm. Teaching English to a room full of young mutants comes with its own unique challenges, but the reward is in the way they lean in during readings, or the curious questions they ask after class. You’ve found ways to weave classic stories into lessons on self-identity and resilience, lessons you wished you had when you were their age.

After the morning rush of class, the day usually settles into a pattern of planning lessons, grading papers, and managing the occasional classroom drama. You know each student’s quirks, their strengths, the places where they struggle. For many of them, this school is the first real place where they’re free to be who they are. And for you, teaching here feels a bit like giving them a piece of the acceptance and stability you found when you arrived.

As the day draws to an end, you're called to Charles’s office. When you arrive, Jean, Scott, Ororo, and Logan are already there. Jean stands with her arms crossed, tension clear in her posture, while Scott and Ororo share a concerned glance. Logan, leaning back with arms folded, looks like he’s ready to leave, but there’s something guarded in his eyes.

Charles waits until you close the door before he begins, his tone more urgent than usual. "Thank you all for coming. I have some troubling news. Rogue has run off." A murmur ripples through the group, and you can see the concern etched on their faces.

Charles holds your gaze a moment before addressing everyone. “Erik, as you know, has always been interested in advancing mutantkind, but his new plan could force that evolution at a catastrophic scale. He’s found a way to trigger latent mutations in humans, possibly by using a device.”

There’s a heavy silence as everyone takes in the implications. Finally, Scott speaks, his tone grim. "So he wants to make everyone in the city a mutant. But wouldn’t forcing a mutation be fatal for most humans?"

Jean nods, her voice steady but laced with unease. "Exactly. The human body isn’t equipped to handle that kind of forced change. If Erik’s power source is strong enough to reach across the city, we’re talking about widespread devastation." Logan shifts, his eyes narrowed. "So let me get this straight. He’s gonna flip a switch and hope people survive the change? Doesn’t sound like a well-thought-out plan to me."

Charles sighs. "Erik’s never concerned himself with risks to those he considers weak. In his mind, this is a step toward a world where mutants reign supreme. He may even believe this forced mutation is a ‘gift.’ But the outcome would be chaos, death—" Ororo interrupts, her voice sharp. "And even if he does believe it’s a gift, we know better. This will only lead to fear, violence… more division."

Jean’s brows knit together, concern flickering in her eyes. “But if he has a device powerful enough to reach so many people…where would he even get that? It would require immense energy.” Charles closes his eyes briefly, searching for the right words. "That’s where Rogue comes in."

A hush falls over the room, and the weight of his words sinks in. "Erik doesn’t just need power; he needs someone who can channel it. Rogue’s mutation, her ability to absorb the life force and abilities of others—it’s exactly what he would use to amplify his device. If he taps into her… he could make the entire city vulnerable."

Logan straightens, his face hardening. "So that's why he’s after her. To turn her into a… a conduit?"

“Yes,” Charles confirms, voice heavy. “If he takes Rogue, he could harness her ability to absorb energy and use it to power his machine.”

Scott’s jaw tightens as he glances at Charles. "But Rogue’s just a kid. She’s barely learned to control her powers, and he wants to use her in some twisted science experiment?"

"Precisely," Charles says gravely. "If Erik reaches her first, she might not survive. Her powers are still volatile. This would overwhelm her."

You feel a knot tighten in your stomach, thinking about your own past. "I'm familiar with how dangerous forced mutations can be. My.. uh" You trailed off not sure if you could ever say it out loud. "My mutation was thrust upon me with an experiment, and I was pretty lucky to develop generative healing ability which allowed me to survive. But for anyone else with different abilities, being forced into a mutation could be very fatal."

Everyone’s gaze shifts toward you, the gravity of your experience weighing heavily in the room. Logan’s eyes soften for a moment, filled with an understanding that only comes from shared pain.

Ororo looks pained, acknowledging the truth of your words. "It could create a wave of death instead of evolution." Charles nods gravely. “Indeed. The implications are terrifying. Erik sees this as a chance to elevate mutantkind, but the price is too high."

Logan’s voice cuts through the tension. "Then we get to her first." Ororo nods, her expression resolute. "Agreed. We can’t let him use her this way. But does she even know she’s in danger?"

Charles hesitates before answering, a shadow passing over his face. “I tried to warn her earlier, but… Rogue is a stubborn soul. She believes she’s a danger to those around her.” Jean nods slowly, her voice filled with sympathy. "And if she thinks she’s protecting us, she might have… left. To protect us."

You swallow hard, a sense of urgency building. "If she thinks she’s protecting us, she could be putting herself in Erik’s hands. She has no idea he’s after her." Scott stands, fists clenched. "Then we need to mobilize, track her down. We can’t afford to lose her to him."

"Where do we even start looking?" Logan asks, scanning the room. "If she’s got it in her head to run, she’s not just going down the block." Charles clasps his hands, his voice both weary and determined. "I will head to the cerebro downstairs, I need all of you to move, we can't afford wasting any seconds."

Everyone falls into a tense silence, the gravity of the situation pressing down. Logan’s eyes meet yours, and you see a flicker of worry there, maybe even something protective. “Alright then,” Logan said, his voice low but resolute. “Let’s go find her.”

Part 2 ->

an: Hi guys, thank you for reading this part. I'm honestly so excited since this is my first X-Men fanfic. My obsession came back since Deadpool & Wolverine released. I used to write a lot about Daredevil but never have the courage to post it. English is not my first language and I hope you can still enjoy it :)

[becauseimswagman1]

Ruined

Erik Stevens x reader

A/N: My reader will mention any defining features, but the nice young lady getting her back broken will always be black. Thank you.

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The mere thought of making love to you drove Erik wild.

Of course, y'all had sex. He would gladly ruin you on any surface anytime and any place but making love is something you two have yet to do and he thinks it's time.

You've been dating for a while and he wants to switch it up in the bedroom. To prove to nobody else but you that he's an attentive lover. He knows he doesn't have to since you initiate the majority of the quickies you two have, but he wants to. He wants you to know that he loves and cares for you and bringing you to three earth-shattering orgasms back to back on the kitchen counter after your annual date night isn't enough for him.

The night was going amazing. You thought the two of you ended the night by sharing a dessert, but to Erik, the night was just starting.

Y'all got home and rose petals leading to the bedroom (courtesy of T’Challa). He takes you to the room and unzips your dress then pushes you onto the bed and takes your heels off. He rubs your feet and kisses your freshly manicured white toes when he finishes.

"Erik, what is all this? The rose petals? The foot massage? Even though I did love that,” you laugh a little, “yeah you have gotta do that more often but still, this is a lot."

He chuckles and responds, "Baby I want to show you that you are one of the most important women in my life. You make me so happy and I don't think I can wait for another second to prove it to you."

Just as he's about to stand to take off his shirt, you stop him. "E... Before you say anything else I have to make something clear. I'm not ready to get married. I love you I do but we've only been together for a year. That's not very long to get engaged."

Erik genuinely laughs because he can see how you would think he's about to propose.

"Bae, I would never propose while you're in your bra and panties. It would be so much more special and you'd never see it coming." He winks as he stands and kisses your forehead.

He strips his shirt off and stands you up so he can take your place sitting on the bed, “Yeah knowing you, you’d do it at a crazy time like after we just got done fucking or something and I’ve been fucked so dumb that I ain’t got a choice but to say yes.”

He laughed and pulled you into his lap, “That actually sounds like a good idea.”

“Babe don’t take that shit serious. It was a joke! I would so make you-” he cut you off before you go on a tangent about how you’d make him propose again.

"Look forward, baby girl."

And there it was, the stand-up mirror you jokingly suggested to Erik about getting just to have mirror sex.

"I know that me fucking you from behind and forcing you to take it while you watch us is one of your many fantasies so I thought I'd make it come true." He slid his hand into your panties, slowly rubbing your clit, just enough to tease you and leave you breathless. "But for right now you're gonna watch me take you apart and put you right back together."

He smirked at the feeling of you getting wetter.

"Someone's eager, huh."

You gripped the hand that was toying with your emotions and tried to make him go faster.

"Not eager baby. Just want you to make me feel good."

Erik kissed your neck and delivered two quick slaps to your clit, “Do that shit again and Ima have no choice but to knock yo ass out. We don't want you passing out right baby? Keep yo fucking hands to yourself."

All you could do was squirm in his hold while he fingered you with 2 fingers and rubbed your clit with his thumb. You were already close to your first orgasm of the night and all you could do was say his name.

"That's right baby. Let everybody know who's treating you so well."

He left marks on your neck while applying more pressure on your clit. Keeping you constantly feeling the pleasure of coming without actually doing it.

"You close? You gonna come for me for real this time? You've been such a good girl at keeping your hands to yourself so I should let you right?"

You could barely speak and he knew you were almost at your peak so he let you have it. Your first orgasm of the night and your legs were shaking.

After making you come to the point of tears two more times, you thought the mirror stuff was all that was happening tonight.

You laid your head back on his shoulder, outta breath and ready to fall asleep, but Erik wasn’t having it.

“You thought I was finished with you? I’m nowhere near done baby.”

He quickly laid you on the bed and stripped you out of your bra and panties. Placing sweet kisses all over your body than standing to take off the rest of his clothes. He spread your legs and gets in between them, hand shooting out to rub himself against your wetness.

You wrapped your legs around his waist tryna get him to put it in but he wasn't budging.

"Baby keeps doing that and I won't fuck you at all. I wanna please you so let me do that aight?"

All you could do was nod your head.

He leaned towards your face, "Words. Use your words."

The sound of you begging wanted to make him nut then and there, "Please fuck me, Erik. Please"

He smirked, "Patience baby. Okay? Be a good girl for me."

He slid into you and let you adjust.

He leaned down to your ear, "I know I've ruined you for any other man. No one can ever make you feel this good but me and I'm letting you know right now that you're the only one I want screaming my name."

He started to roll his hips into you, making you feel every inch pulling out and pushing right back in. You were losing your mind at the pace since you were used to him fucking into you fast.

You grabbed at his shoulders and started to plead him to go faster. He almost didn’t give in.

He wanted this to last. He wanted you to feel how he felt. How much he loves you, how much he cherishes you, how much he wanted to marry you, and how much he wanted you to have his babies.

But he went a little faster anyway while giving you long deep strokes. All he wanted was for you to feel good.

The pleasure you were feeling was incredible. You felt that this was making love. You felt the love he had for you right here and now. You were overwhelmed with all the emotion.

Erik could feel you clenching around him, "you gonna come, baby? So soon?"

You nodded, not being able to properly form words to tell him that he was making you feel like this, that he was the one that was gonna make you spill all over him.

He reached down and started to rub your clit at the same time as his strokes. "I'm not gonna play with you, baby. Come for me."

Your breath hitched and you came with tears in your eyes and you could barely register that he was still rubbing you and fucking into you faster.

"One more for me then you're done. I know you got one more in you, baby."

You were shaking under him, practically losing your mind. Erik had made you orgasm multiple times before, but this was something new.

He knew you were close and so was he.

"I'm gonna come too, baby. You want me to give it to you? Fill you up so much it’s leaking out?" He kept rubbing and before you knew it, you were screaming his name. So loud that both of you knew you would get noise complaints the next day.

You came all over him, wetting yours and his thighs up. He groaned as he thrust into you one final time and emptied himself into you, making a chill run down your spine.

He pulled out and then got a rag out of the bathroom to clean you up. Erik gave your legs a little massage and kissed your forehead. Telling you to rest for a bit before he ran you two a bath.

All you could tell him was that you loved him before you drifted off to sleep.

He smiled, "I love you too. More than you'll ever know."

Small and hopefully growing taglist:

@itsbackwoodsbby @miyuhpapayuh

[americanwh0rerstory]

The morning after [cherik]

charles xavier X erik lehnsherr

SUMMARY: after an ‘intense’ night together, charles begins to have some deep thoughts

WARNINGS: homosexuality

A/N: AUGH I LOVE THESE GAY MEN SO MUCH

NO NSFW ^_^

charles stood in the shared kitchen, shakily stirring his coffee whilst waiting for erik to wake up. it was a long night, and charles would be lying if he said he could walk straight right now.

he stirred the coffee, watching as the milk blends with the coffee beans, however it’s only when the spoon continued to spin after he let go that he was aware of his lover standing in the doorway

with lipstick smeared over his face from the previous nights and remnants over charles face and neck, erik leaned against the wooden doorframe with his hand slightly extended to control the spoon

“i’d have made coffee for you, you can go back to bed” erik says in an uncharacteristic soft tone, looking at the worn out charles

“no it’s fine, i’ll make you a cup too” charles replies as he began to pour erik’s cup of coffee, regaining control of the spoon from his partner

whilst stirring the coffee his mind wandered, thinking about him and erik. was it love? surely it was, the way they interacted sure seemed like love. or was it just platonic? did erik just want a friends with benefits situation? hopefully not, charles wouldn’t be able to handle it if erik left. yes, he was independant, but a world without erik seemed almost unbearable

he was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t notice erik stand behind him, feeling erik’s arms encircle his waist and his head resting on charles’ shoulder

“you need to rest, darling” erik murmurs into charles’ skin. “somethings clearly bothering you so how about we lay in bed, drink out coffee, and you tell me what’s going on”

charles muttered a soft agreement and finished making the coffees, taking it into the bedroom they both shared before he began to open up. he never liked opening up, but he had to know what erik was thinking. he didn’t want to use his mutation, but would it really be bad if he did?

“do you love me? romantically, i mean. or is this just an extension on our friendship?” charles asks as he sits on his side of the bed, looking at erik over the rim of his mug

“why ask questions you already know the answer too, sweetheart?” erik asked in response, the petname rolling naturally off his tongue as though it was honey. he gulped down some of his coffee before continuing. “you’ve always been the closest person to me, why would i ever feel anything less than love for you?”

he set his mug down and pulled charles closer to him, the latter’s head resting on the former’s chest. erik’s hands weaved in charles’ hair, playing with the strands in an attempt to soothe him. “i love you, charles. even if i don’t say it, you know i do. and if you ever doubt it then there’s nothing stopping you looking in my head”

charles sighs gently with content, relaxing into erik’s touch as they laid on the bed together. “i love you more” he says in a half whisper, closing his eyes as he cuddled into erik. “even when you’re covered in lipstick”

[fandom-smutty-shots]

Charles Xavier X Reader: In Your Head (Smut)

Summary: Charles uses his powers to make you finish in front of everyone, then uses them again when he takes you back to your room.

Warnings: Smut, praise kink, daddy kink, public orgasm, orgasm denial, fingering, oral(f receiving), begging.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: This man can see into anybody's mind... he's gotta have had some kinky sex.

~

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to focus on the food in front of you. You and a few of the trainees were in the kitchen, eating your final meal of the day and joking around with each other.

Well, everyone else was joking around. You were squeezing your thighs together and trying to keep your breathing even as your boyfriend projected your fantasy of the day into your head.

Charles, I'm trying to eat.

You met his eyes at the table with a glare as he ignored you, chatting away with Erik while torturing you.

You could feel his fingers between your thighs, snaking up and down your heated core as you saw yourself in bed, hands in Charles' hair as he got you closer to your edge.

This was the worst part of dating a telepath. He could make you finish without even laying a hand on you, anytime, anywhere. It was embarrassing how he dove into your wildest fantasies and forced you to get off on them, something you only ever did in your bed alone before him.

"Y/n? You feeling okay?" someone called out across the table, noticing your discomfort. You didn't even register who it was.

You opened your mouth to say something back, but ended up letting out a strangled sound to cover the moan from your building orgasm. Charles spoke soft words into your head, edging you on to finish for him right in front of everyone.

I'll do anything just please don't embarrass me-

It was too late. You stood up from your chair and came at the same time, clenching your jaw as your legs gave out and you collapsed onto the ground. You were drenched in sweat, your vision was fuzzy, and you were panting from the release.

Erik was the first to your side, and you could tell from the amused look on his face that he knew what Charles was up to. He was the only one that actually knew about your relationship, and he kept it a secret, even when Charles pulled shit like this.

"Come on, I'll get you to your room," Erik sighed, using his arm to get you to your feet. "Charles, come on, make sure she's okay."

You relied entirely on Erik to get you upstairs, regaining your footing somewhere right before you reached your bedroom. Charles followed behind, laughing as soon as you were out of earshot.

"This is just plain mean," Erik shot at his best friend, opening your door and letting you stumble to your bed. "Poor thing doesn't need to be a show for everyone. Keep your... playtime... in private." He stormed out, shutting the door after himself, leaving the two of you alone.

"Sorry, Y/n. I really didn't think you were that close," Charles chuckled, sitting in the bed next to you.

"Yes, you did! You know exactly when I'm about to come!" You shot back, your face red from humiliation. "This isn't fair! You can't go into my head whenever you please!"

Can't I, sweet girl?

"Stop!" You pushed your arms against his chest, wishing you could throw him across the room.

"Oh I'm sorry baby girl," Charles purred, pining your hands above your head with his power. "How about you let your daddy make it up to you?"

Your clothes were off in an instant, leaving you squirming and exposed in front of your boyfriend. Your mind began dancing in circles as he lowered himself between your legs, pushing them apart with gentle hands and getting comfortable.

How about daddy gives you the real thing?

You forget why you're so mad as he calls himself that, his intimate knowledge of your desires making it impossible not to melt into his touch.

"Please," you whimper, bucking into him to try and get some friction.

Ask nicely.

You swallow your pride, "please, daddy, please lick me."

Charles hummed and dove in, his tongue swirling exactly the way you need it, exactly the way you pictured it for so long. You cried out when he gently sucked on your swollen bud, his tongue dancing along the edges in the way that made you cum in an instant.

"Daddy it's right-it's right-oh god lick right there-" your voice was a high-pitched whine, you knew you sounded pathetic as you begged for release. This time a release you actually wanted.

You wanna come all over my face?

Charles never had to stop licking to coax you into an orgasm. One of the many benefits of his power, he talked you through everything without ever compromising your pleasure.

You could feel him holding you still, keeping your wild bucking at bay as your vision became fuzzy again and you felt that knot in your stomach building.

"Please-please-I can't-oh god I'm gonna-"

You snapped upright as Charles released his hold on you and pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're right, I do know exactly when you're gonna finish."

"Charles!" Your eyebrows furrowed together and you felt yourself come down, losing the wave that was about to crash over you. "That's not fair!"

Oh but you come so much harder when I make you wait for it.

"Daddy please," you whimper, bending down to hungrily kiss him, your need for him building with every second.

"You just begged me not to make you come and now you want to?" Charles smirked at you, coming up and snaking his arm under your neck to hold you into him. "Such a confusing girl."

He moved his free hand to draw circles up the side of your thigh, the touch making you shiver. You tried to push his hand where you needed it, but he was stronger than you and simply brought his hand and yours to your lips.

Ask nicely.

"Please let me come on you daddy I need you so bad," you beg, pleading with him in your mind as well.

That's my good girl.

Charles dipped his hand into your wet folds, teasing up and down before sliding a finger inside, making you gasp. He found your spot easily, lazily rubbing circles on it, just enough pleasure to make you need more. You knew he would take it away if you got greedy, so as much as you were desperate for more friction, you stayed in his arms and took the teasing.

Does baby girl want her daddy to make her come now?

"Please, I need you," you whimpered, turning your head to look him in the eyes just as he pulled his finger out and replaced it with two, pumping in and out to hit where you needed. His thumb traced patterns across your clit, edging you on as he told you how pretty you looked coming undone for him.

He let you squirm this time, grinding against his hand in desperation as you chased your high, this time the knot building much faster.

Charles pumped into you, watching your eyes roll back as you hit the point right before you were gonna-"

"CHARLES!" You cried out as he pulled his hand away, that one second ruining your orgasm yet again. "This isn't fair, daddy."

"Oh, but it'll be so good when you finally do finish, sweetheart." Charles said with his stupid smirk, sitting up and slowly undressing himself.

You glanced down as he pulled his pants off, his cock springing free and leaking pre-cum. He pumped it a few times before grabbing your waist and pulling you closer, lining himself up with your entrance.

"You're drenched for me," he commented, not giving you time to respond before he filled you up.

You made a strangled sound at the sudden invasion, and he didn't give you time to think before he was thrusting in and out, fucking you so hard you felt like you could see stars.

Is that how you like it? Rough and fast?

"I-I can't-"

Shhhh, don't try and speak. Open your mouth for daddy.

You obeyed, and you felt a few fingers shove inside and shut you up. His thumb held your jaw and he gently explored your mouth, using his other arm to hold himself up above you.

Touch your clit baby girl, make yourself come.

You obeyed that too, your fingers shooting down to make desperate circles around your needy bud. Between the thick cock filling you up and the teasing he had already done, you unravelled in a matter of seconds.

You should have been embarrassed by the moans and groans and other colourful sounds that came out of you, but instead, you just relaxed into Charles' body, letting him fuck you through your orgasm.

That's my good girl. Told you it was worth the wait.

Charles wasn't long after you, the sight of you cumming always drove him to as well. He did a few sloppy pumps before pulling out and collapsing on the bed next to you.

"Did you come hard for me?" He teased, brushing a finger across your lips.

You knew you didn't need to answer, Charles knew exactly what he did to you.

[apocalypse-shuffle]

ERIK STEVENS | KILLMONGER (the mcu)

—

“Just Thinking” (Erik Stevens x Fem!Reader)

| Erik’s watching you…hard (and not in the sexy way).

| SFW, fluff/angst, chronic pain, someone’s gonna start crying

| picture source: Black Panther (2018) movie

| 1k+ words

Erik is watching you.

To be fair the man nearly never didn’t have his eyes glued to you, but his gaze feels new tonight.

Erik liked to claim that he wasn’t introspective because he was sure of his every move from day one but the look he was hitting you with sure seemed introspective.

You're in your bedroom, Erik having come over after work, getting ready to go to sleep. You’re bouncing around your room getting all your medicine together in one place so you can try to rest a little easier when you get in bed.

Erik’s sitting one his side of the mattress, feet planted firmly onto your carpet as he rests his arms on his legs and tracks you with his eyes.

“Do you remember where I put the stuff for my arms?”

At your question his eyes actually briefly rise to meet yours before he nods to the bathroom.

“In that green bag under the sink,” he murmurs.

You nod and immediately start moving to get it. Your body was always hurting you, that was a factor of life you just had to learn to deal with, but your nightly routine was sacred for a reason.

The pain you felt on a “good day” didn’t compare to the liquid fire in your veins and the way you wouldn’t be able to feel your legs as you walked (if you were even able to) on a bad one. Erik knew how you got too, so whenever you did this he tended to stay out of your way.

Sometimes you felt bad about how you’d often keep him up at night because of how inescapable and overwhelming the pain could get but Erik never complained in real time.

He’d bitch and moan about being tired in the morning while pressing a kiss to your forehead and still waking up early to go for his morning run and make breakfast.

Erik liked to complain but he never complained about you.

You grab the green bag from the cabinet and a pack of alcohol wipes then come back into the room.

He still hasn’t stopped looking.

You make eye contact with him every once in a while as you start measuring things out while you wait for your cold injection to warm up enough that you can inject it into your stomach. He doesn’t not keep your gaze, he just doesn’t respond to the inquiring looks you throw at him. You leave it alone for the time being. If Erik wanted to talk to you he would in his own time, the man didn’t like to keep shit in and let it fester with you if he could help it.

It’s as you’re checking your blood pressure that he finally starts moving. He gets up and holds his hand out to you when you’re about to open the little black carrying case that has your monitor inside.

There’s a question there that you answer by placing it atop his open palm.

When he brings it closer he doesn’t let go of your hand where you’re also holding it and so you offer him your own appendage right then. You can check your pressure just fine by yourself but if he wanted to do this for you you wouldn’t deny him it. At least today.

If it was a bad day and you were in way more pain than usual you tended to get short with him and didn’t like accepting his help. That would probably always be a work in progress since you didn’t like feeling reliant on anyone.

You’re doing pretty well now though. Your pain is reduced to just pin pricks all over your skin and some stiffness in your joints, the medicine taking effect to its best.

Standing in front of you Erik unzips the bag and starts putting everything together with deft fingers. He’s got the whole process over for you in two minutes. You smile and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth with a thank you before putting the case away.

He doesn’t move back to the bed when he’s done with that but he doesn’t try to offer to give you your shot either. You had to take it every two days and never during the duration of your relationship had you once reacted positively to him (or anyone who wasn’t your doctor) wanting to do it for you. Erik always left you to it like you wanted now, no fuss.

He sighs and then he’s finally looking into your eyes. “Do you ever regret any of it?”

Cooled down medicine in your hand you only half turn to give him your attention.

“Hmm?”

He shakes his head.

“Never mind it’s nothing.”

You narrow your eyes at him but let the silence envelop you briefly in favor of readying yourself. An injection wasn’t exactly something you could afford giving partial attention to. You glance up at him, now sitting against the headboard as his eyes bore into you. Hm.

“You gonna say what’s bothering you?”

“I’m just thinking.”

You raise an eyebrow as you attach the needle to the medicine vial and pull on the plunger to extract its contents.

“Let me go buy a lottery ticket then.”

Your delivery is dry but Erik huffs out a laugh anyway. He rubs his hands down his face.

“I’m being serious though. I mean- you don’t regret me moving you around so often?”

You wipe off underneath your stomach with rubbing alcohol as you ponder what he’s not asking you.

“You mean do I regret marrying you when you're so busy and I’m so sick?”

Erik’s lips purse and he looks away from you.

Huh.

“Erik, you’re the Wakandan Ambassador now and I knew that when we got back together. You can’t be here all the time,” you shrug. “Which is fine because I was taking care of myself before you and that hasn’t changed.”

You stop talking as you administer the shot with furrowed brows; Erik doesn’t speak. You ignore both the breaking of skin and the feel of the injection with the ease of practice, pull the needle out and then wipe it clean with another alcohol wipe.

When you look up at your husband he seems to still be thinking so you hum and start cleaning up. Band Aid first, properly dispose of everything used, pack all the medicinal stuff up, and hide it back away in the cabinet. Or the fridge.

“I could help you,” Erik punches out unprompted. He seems pained, voice constricted.

“Erik,” you gasp out as you turn to him. The implications of his words don’t even fully hit you; it's the way his hands are fisted so tight they’re shaking.

“Wakanda, they have resources. They’re the most medically advanced place in the world.”

“Erik please,”

He ignores you.

“They could help you. I could-” he takes a harsh breath and looks up to you. Your stomach flips at the look in his eyes, red and brimming with unshed tears. “All it would take is a fucking week. Baby one damned week and you wouldn’t have to do none of this shit no more and you know what they’re telling me?”

He’s not yelling, though even if he was it wouldn’t really be aimed at you, but his voice carries the weight of a scream. You know it’s only not that because it’s you he’s talking to. Your heart has also dropped out of your body.

“They said no, I couldn’t bring you to Wakanda and I couldn’t bring anything from there to you. I was out voted. I am a prince and I’m still just as useless at helping you as before-”

“Erik stop.”

His blurring form in the bed tenses as he listens and you're almost panting, chest tight. He is too. You can see his chest heaving with the pressure of his words even as a tear rolls down your cheeks. You rub it away with a sigh.

“Babe,” You crawl onto the bed with a small groan that you move right past before you're over him. You plant his face with kisses.

Erik huffs out a laugh, arms circling around your middle, but it’s reluctant.

“Yeah baby?”

He pulls you into his lap and you don’t fight it, smiling and swooping down to press a kiss right in the middle of the crease between his brows. You press two more there until the area smoothes out. You were in a good mood and you did not want to be angry about everything right now.

“I don’t need you to save me.”

“But it’s-”

“Hush,” you hold your index finger up to his mouth and he dutifully quiets. He must be more fucked up about this than you thought. You take your finger away and peck him on the lips. “No buts, alright? Now I’m not saying not to hook me up if you can get access to this treatment, but right now it’s a what if and I can’t bank my life on that.”

He rolls his eyes, “It’s not a what if though.”

“Except at this point it is, E, and the same way I’m not wasting my time on a miracle cure is the same way you shouldn’t be either.”

“Alright I see what you’re saying.” Erik’s nodding but you can tell by the grin on his face he’s got something else in mind. “Or I could steal that shit.”

“And commit treason?”

This time when he laughs it’s full, nearly knocks you from your highly coveted position and everything, and the conversation isn’t done but he’ll drop it for now. Hopefully not becoming a fugitive in the meantime.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!! I could’ve gone into more detail with this but I simply did not want to. Also this is not proofread yet.

(I don’t like writing Erik because I don’t think I capture him well at all but I’ve been sitting on a few stories with him and decided fuck it on this one cause it’s cute. I also have a pattern to my updates which means either cute/action/angst had to be next so everything worked out well enough.)

It’s black love day so happy that, I guess! This fic is too old for me to claim I wrote it for today but we can pretend.

[piebingo]

Wille’s day

Day 28th: birthday @youngroyals-events

Wille’s 18th birthday is, all things considered, great.

It hadn’t looked too good at first. Not with how the meetings had gone with the royal court, the whole ordeal of actually going through with stepping down something the court still couldn’t grasp. Now that it’s all done, Wille can see the humour in the court threatening to replace him with August for so long, only to push back when Wille actually wanted August to replace him.

Read on ao3 or below.

Wille’s 18th birthday is, all things considered, great.

It hadn’t looked too good at first. Not with how the meetings had gone with the royal court, the whole ordeal of actually going through with stepping down something the court still couldn’t grasp. Now that it’s all done, Wille can see the humour in the court threatening to replace him with August for so long, only to push back when Wille actually wanted August to replace him.

Then the media had stepped in. When Erik had turned 18, the ball for his birthday, the first Erik day in his honour, had been announced months before. The elite youth of Sweden an neighbouring royal families had received gold-embossed invitations —as well as some random normal kids invited to make the monarchy look good and inclusive. This year, for Wille’s 18th birthday and thus the first official Wilhelm’s day, no one had been invited. The youth hadn’t received any invitations. The news hadn’t been informed of any celebration.

On May 28th, 2022, Crown Prince Wilhelm had stepped down from the line of succession.

He had done it live, choosing to step down with a speech that represented him. Wille knows that the public has a weird relationship with him. Over the years, he has had many personas given to him.

Shy kid.

Bad boy.

Gay prince.

Lazy replacement.

It had been his last chance to go out with some grace, to try and control the narrative around his person. Only time will tell if he will have been successful.

Wille is proud of himself though, and that has to count for something. A bit more than a year ago now, he had told Simon that he couldn't answer comments on social media, that this is just the way things work. People will say things and they can only let it slide, let the court control the narrative. It’s still true but Wille won’t have the court to back him up as much now. Hence why he decided to be honest. For his own sake.

He wanted, needed, to step down on his own terms. And he did it this morning, after carefully crafting what he would say. He didn’t follow it all, straying when an idea passed in his mind. But still, the essence of his speech had been the same as planned.

Wille is proud of himself.

And he isn’t the only one. His mamma had hugged him afterwards, proudly looking at him even if her smile hadn’t managed to lose all of the tension she constantly carries around. His dad had clapped his back, nodding at him. Felice had thrown her arms around his shoulders, squealing loudly in his ear. Sara had hugged him tightly, swaying him from side to side.

And Simon.

Simon had looked at Wille, his nose scrunching from how hard he had been smiling. He had hugged Wille last, but he hadn’t let him go afterwards. For the rest of the day, he had been at Wille’s side, a hand on his back or tangled with Wille’s. A smile pressed to his cheeks and sweet words whispered in his ears.

Until a few minutes ago.

Wille sits on his bed, staring at the door of his bedroom, waiting for Simon to come back. He isn’t sure what Simon has gone away to do, only that he had been told that he must stay seated until he came back and that it wouldn’t take too long. It’s been five minutes already, and Wille has concluded that it has been too long. Still, he will be good for Simon and will wait for him to come back.

Simon hasn’t been here very often in the last year. Wille neither, to be fair. They had spent the summer after their first year together, either staying at the Erikssons’ or travelling around in Sara’s car. And then, magically, Hillerska had opened again, and Wille had moved back.

They have spent the last few months tangled up together at Simon’s or in Wille’s dorm room. They have spent their time learning about each other, actually taking the time to breath and date each other in a way they never had before. Hillerska is good, now. Or better, at least. It’s not perfect, but the rules have changed and the atmosphere is lighter, and new day-students have been accepted. Most importantly, Wille hasn’t been shipped off to Switzerland and Simon hasn’t moved to Gothenburg.

The door startles Wille as Simon pushes it open. He comes back into the room, socked feet dragging on the floor. He is wearing a green knitted sweater, one that Wille knows gives him sweater paws. He can’t see his hands right now though, both of them behind Simon’s back.

“What have you got?” Wille asks, standing up from the bed.

“Nuh-uh. Sit back down.”

Wille sighs, forcing his lips in a pout, and watches as Simon slowly makes his way to him. He stops right in front of Wille, close enough that his feet find themselves between Wille’s on the floor. Wille’s hands make their way to Simon’s thighs, resting over the soft material of his sweatpants Simon stole from his closet.

“Hi,” Simon whispers, his smile lighting up the room. At least it feels like it, even if Wille knows it’s technically impossible. But it’s so bright and kind and when he’s smiling down like that at Wille, how could it not feel like he is sunshine personified?

“Hey.”

“I know I couldn’t be here this morning when you woke up… but in a way, this right now somehow feels like the beginning of a new day for you? Because you woke up as Crown Prince and you are going to bed as Wille only.” Simon bites his lip, seemingly nervous, before nodding. He brings his hand in front of him, holding a cinnamon bun with an unlit candle sitting on top.

“I couldn’t find a lighter, I was sure I had one packed. Sorry,” he chuckles lightly, and Wille can’t help but laugh with him. “So, this is a celebration of not only you’re birthday, but also your first end of the day as simply you.”

Somehow, this is what makes Wille tear up for the first time today. The fact that Simon is so sweet, is carrying a tradition with him —never mind the fact that it is a tradition he’s done with his own family for years, which makes it all the sweeter. The fact that he thought that Wille, as a person, as simply Wille, deserves to be celebrated.

When Simon is done singing him a happy birthday, holding the last note a little longer than the rest, tears are streaming down Wille’s face. He doesn’t wipe them away though. His hands are of better use trailing up Simon’s body and tugging until he has a lap full of his boyfriend.

Simon puts the bun on the nightstand next to them and brings his hand up to Wille’s face, his thumbs gently drying the tears.

“Happy birthday, Wille.”

Wille smiles at him, all lopsided and salty from the rest of his tears. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Simon says back, lips already moving against Wille’s.

[starcrossedxwriter]

Falling Apart Part 1 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

Warnings: lots of angst… pregnancy loss (but don't hate me! Part 2 is coming!!)

Charlotte shifted uncomfortably in bed, her hand going to wipe a thin layer of sweat from her forehead. The heat in their bedroom was sweltering, a rare and odd occurrence as she and her husband were a rare couple who liked the thermostat at the same temperature: ice cold. She glanced down, unsurprised to find him fast asleep on top of her, his light snores filling her ears.

She was his favorite spot in bed. It did not matter if he went to bed first and was sound asleep when she slid in, he always found his way to her and slept with half of his body draped over hers and his head on her chest. Even on the rarest occasion they went to bed upset, they still found their way into each other’s arms to sleep. Charlotte usually had no complaints though, he was her personal weighted blanket. She missed their sleeping arrangement when one of them was traveling. His weight provided comfort, his touch soothed her, and his body temperature provided the perfect warmth for sleep. 

However, tonight she only felt suffocated, literally. Her body felt disgusting, covered in the tacky uncomfortable feeling of sweat from head to toe despite dozing off in nothing but a pair of Michael’s briefs when she got out of the shower. 

She pushed against his heavy upper half, hoping to move him so she could cool down for a minute. However, when he did not budge an inch, all she could do was let out a disgruntled huff. Their return to the set of Creed meant her husband was at the peak of his physical strength. He still enjoyed the residual weight of Erik Killmonger and perfected his training for the sequel. However, that meant he was far too heavy for Charlotte’s weak arms to move. 

Despite how uncomfortable she felt, she did not have the heart to wake him either. Neither of the pair had been this tired in a long time. 2018 had been a hectic and wild ride for the Jordans, both of them enjoying historic but exhausting accomplishments. While Charlotte started the year deep into the award season circuit, which was fun in some ways but she found it more emotionally and physically draining than anything else, Michael started it with an intense international press tour. And they both only had a week at home together before they packed up to move to Philly for filming. And though Charlotte’s days on set had not started yet as they worked on the boxing choreography and filmed the training montages first, she found that she still could not get enough rest. She felt as if she slept all night and most of the day in between studying her lines and writing Bianca’s songs while Michael was gone and still was exhausted when he got home. It did not help that she was fighting a mysterious stomach bug for the last week either. 

And the only thing Michael cared to do when he came home from set was fall into a deep sleep until his early call time the next morning. And it was only week one. However, she knew this was their last stretch. Their entire relationship and marriage had been one project after the other for both of them. Once they wrapped filming, they both would get a break and they could rest. She couldn’t wait. 

As she reached for her phone to turn the temperature down in their temporary apartment, a wave of nausea hit her. Within minutes, she felt the very familiar and unfortunate churn in her stomach. 

This time, she decided, he would have to forgive her for waking him up. This was now an emergency. She combined her pushes with loud calls directly into his ear to force him out of his deep sleep.

“Babe! Babe! Get off me! Off, off, off! ” She practically yelled at him, part of her feeling guilty for ripping him from sleep so rudely. But she was in a race to beat her internal ticking time bomb and make it to the bathroom or any trash can before it went off. To his credit, despite the jarring wake up call, he rolled off her immediately. 

Charlotte ignored his groggy “W-what’s wrong?” his gruff, sexy, sleepy baritone not having its usual effect as she darted out of their bed, barely making it to the bathroom before her dinner was staring back at her. 

She groaned as her stomach forced any and all substances out of her body, her side cramping with the pain of each heave. She was so distracted by the pain of each heave that she did not even notice Michael behind her. He wrapped her robe around her nude body and held a wet towel to her forehead as he rubbed soothing circles on her back. 

“G-go b-back to bed, love. You gotta be up in two hours,” she whispered as she leaned her head into her hand, the other going to massage the sharp pain growing in her side. “I’m sorry. I’ll b-be ok.” 

“Els. Please.” While he appreciated his wife being concerned about his schedule, the idea that he could ever just roll over and fall back to sleep knowing she was sick ten feet away was preposterous. “What happened? Something you ate?” He grabbed a hair tie from the bathroom counter and pulled her hair back, knowing she would not get to bed anytime soon if she had to spend the rest of the night washing her hair. 

“W-we ate the same thing yesterday and you s-seem totally…” Her words were cut off as she was forced to bury her head in the toilet again. However, Michael understood what she was intending to say. And despite his exhaustion, he did feel totally fine. 

“This is the third time this week, Els. This and the fatigue… You gotta go to the doctor.” 

She leaned on the toilet seat, her body sinking in slightly with defeat. She was trying to avoid the doctor at all costs, her usual MO. But when Michael insisted, she knew better than to fight him on it. He was relentlessly cautious when it came to her health, because to his frustration, Charlotte was not. 

“I’m fine, babe.” 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You promised we wouldn’t do this anymore, Els.” He reminded her of the promise they both made to make their health more of a priority.

Charlotte was no stranger to pushing her body to its physical limitations. It was Michael’s biggest pet peeve. He thought he was a workaholic but his wife often made him feel lazy. And like most people overly committed to their work, her health often took a backseat to everything else. And it was not just work, Charlotte would prioritize Michael, both of their families, and her friends over her health, often to her own detriment.  It was not that she did not take her health seriously, she did. However, she took the mantra “the show must go on” to heart. Unless she was unconscious or on a stretcher, she would always find a way to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving. Was it a toxic way to think? Maybe. But had it guided her for her entire career and life? Yes. Which meant, try as she might, it was not a switch she could just turn off because her husband did not like it. She performed and worked through countless injuries and illnesses that should have landed her in the hospital or doctor’s office but her mental will to perform outweighed the physical pain. And after one long and scary night in the hospital while they were dating, Michael did not allow concerning changes in her health or behavior to go unchecked for very long anymore.

“Fine. But it’s probably just a stomach bug or something.” 

“Then the doctor can give you medicine to help you feel better faster. But I’d rather know it’s just that than watch you suffer like this.” 

She was thankful for Michael’s assistance in standing as her legs had fallen asleep beneath her. 

“I know, I know. I’ll go to the doctor, promise.” 

“Thank you. Wanna get in the shower first? You’re drenched. Can’t get back into bed like this.” 

“T-Thanks, babe. I’m sorry, I-I know you have a long day tomorrow.”

Michael chuckled. “Can’t control getting sick, honeybee. Don’t worry about it. Brush your teeth, I’ll start the shower and grab you some medicine. Get some rest and I’ll make an appointment with the studio doctor in the morning.”

A soft smile formed as she watched him leave to find her medicine. She had truly found the most attentive and perfect partner. Most of her friends’ complained about how their husbands were utterly useless when they were sick. But Michael was the exact opposite. His protective nature meant he also took amazing care of her when she wasn’t feeling well. Though he could also be overbearing at times, it was a sign he cared and she loved it. 

She showered quickly and slid into one of Michael’s sweatshirts before he helped her get situated back in bed with medicine and a trash can by her side. She drifted back off to sleep within seconds of her head hitting the pillow.  

Despite having to get up in two hours, Michael stayed awake and watched to make sure she was comfortable and resting. He could tell that her sleep was not particularly restful in how she shifted in their king bed uncomfortably. Occasionally, he reached over and dapped her forehead with a towel, noticing the beads of sweat reforming. 

He hated that he had to leave her all day the next day, knowing his wife was unlikely to actually rest and relax to fully recover. But he knew he did not have much of a choice. He studied her for about half an hour before he drifted off to sleep for a quick nap, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. 

***

Charlotte paced back and forth in their apartment, waiting with bated breath for the sound of Michael opening their door. He finished training just a bit ago and should have been walking in the door at any moment. Every minute she waited felt like a new emotion, a rollercoaster between excitement, anxiety, joy, and more anxiety. She continued pacing, giving herself a pep talk to increase her courage until she heard his key turn the lock.

“Hey baby,” she offered brightly. 

He threw his bag down and wrapped an arm around her waist, one hand going to cup her face as he examined her. 

“How are you feeling? You didn’t call me after your appointment. What did the doctor say?” 

“Yea, sorry about that. I didn’t call because I didn’t think it was news to give over the phone. First and most importantly, I’m fine.” She assured him, his entire body visibly relaxing at her words. “Doc said I’ll be fine to go to set on Monday, no issues.” 

Michael could not hide his confusion. He was happy there was nothing serious but that did not explain why she was sick. “Ok, did he figure out what was wrong?” 

“Yes. But there’s nothing he can do. Said it should clear up in the next month or so.” 

“What?? Nah, give me his number. Ain’t no way you can deal with whatever the hell this is for another month. And if he knows it’ll clear up, why can’t he prescribe some medicine or some shit?” Michael ranted as he walked to his bag to grab his cell phone. “I’m calling your doctor back home, babe. That’s fuckin ridiculous.” 

If he had not been so angry, Charlotte would have laughed at his agitated mumblings about a doctor he did not even know. She supposed she should not keep the vague answers going and tell him outright. She knew there was a cuter way to do so but she also knew Michael would not let a vague diagnosis stand for long enough to put together a true surprise. The lack of fanfare surrounding this momentous occasion would have to be forgiven. 

“Put the phone down, babe.” 

“Nah fuck that. Was the doctor white?? Cause they’ve been comin’ out with more and more articles about doctors ignoring Black women’s pain. I’ll fuckin sue his whole practice. And I’m gonna tell Steven tomorrow. The studio needs to vet these people be-” 

“Babe!” She grabbed his arm to stop him from firing off a million texts that could ruin a man’s career. She pulled the phone out of his hand and locked it, throwing it on the counter. “He can’t prescribe me anything or do anything because there’s nothing to do for morning sickness. But it should go away in the next trimester.” 

Her big eyes bored into his expectantly, waiting for the words to catch up with him. She teetered on her heels as she waited, Michael mouthing the words quietly back as if he had not heard them correctly. 

“Morning sickness… but that’s…” he scratched his head, his eyes growing wide with shock as he glanced down to Charlotte’s stomach. 

She offered him a teary-eyed smile, one of her hands resting on her stomach. “Surprise?” She chewed on her lip as she waited for him to say something, literally anything. “Michael or Michaela C. Jordan’ll be here in 8 months or so.”

“Y-You’re pregnant?” 

She nodded. “7 weeks.” She let out a yelp and a giggle as Michael grabbed her and swept her off her feet, spinning her around. 

“We’re gonna have a baby?? That’s why you’ve been sick?” 

“Y-Yea. Of course now it seems obvious. But I only got through half the symptoms before he told me I needed to take a pregnancy test. Given the timing, pretty sure it was the Black Panther premiere or your birthday,” she laughed. She eyed him anxiously, her hands clutching his forearms as she braced herself for an answer. “Y-You’re excited?” 

“Of course I’m excited. I’m fuckin’ ecstatic. I-I’m gonna be a dad.  I fuckin’ love you so much, baby.” Charlotte giggled as he peppered her face with kisses and his hand went to her stomach. 

“You still gonna love me when I’m hormonal a-and fat with swollen feet?” She laughed, wiping away her tears.

“I’ll give you all the foot rubs you want, baby girl. God, I love you so much.” 

Her head rested on his chest as he held her. However, after a moment he pulled back and lifted her chin to his eyes. 

“H-How do you feel?” He asked, so wrapped up in his own emotions that he did not even know if Charlotte was happy. He assumed she was but he also knew it was different for women, they had to sacrifice so much for almost a year to have a baby. And their lives were just about to slow down, he could not fault her if she was not pleased with the timing. 

“I’m excited. Nervous,” she laughed. “But I think it would be weird as hell if I wasn’t. W-we talked about this so much. The timing is a bit earlier than we planned,” she admitted. “But I’ve always wanted to be a mom and I couldn’t have picked a better man to knock me up,” he chuckled. “So yea, I’m really happy.” She covered her mouth and her eyes fell closed as she yawned. 

“Why don’t you go lay down while I figure out dinner? Cool with takeout? You gotta rest while you grow the next greatest actor of a generation anyway?” 

“You’re already choosing their career for them??” she asked as she headed toward their bedroom.

“Definitely. They’re gonna wanna follow in mom and dad’s footsteps, of course.” 

Charlotte threw back the covers and climbed into their bed, laughing at her husband’s antics. She flopped down dramatically on the pillow, the beast of sleep already coming to claim her again. 

Michael sat on the bed next to her, his hand going to her belly as soft snores filled his ears. He just held his hand there, mesmerized by his wife and the life they created together. 

***

“You know, I woulda gotten pregnant longgggg ago if I knew it would get me these pancakes on a regular,” Charlotte teased as her husband moved around their kitchen and cleaned up from breakfast. The sweet taste of apples and cinnamon filled her mouth as she took another bite, a soft moan escaping her lips. “It’s like a taste orgasm.” She wiggled her hips and shoulders as if to do a dance in her seat that signified her pleasure. 

All Michael could do was laugh at her antics. He had made her those pancakes before going to set almost every day that he had a late call time. It was extra effort, but worth it to see the smile on her face and ensure she was eating. 

“Anything for you.” 

She eyed him for a minute, her manicured hand letting the fork fall to her plate. “You know you don’t have to do this? I love it and they are delicious but you’re gonna spoil me… and I’ll be bigger than our house by the end if you keep this up.”  

Bakari shrugged as he picked up his cup of coffee after starting their dishwasher. He slid over to her side of the counter and into a bar stool next to her. His free hand went to her stomach. Though there was no visible bump yet, his hands seemed to gravitate toward her stomach these days. 

“I just like to see you eating so if I gotta make pancakes every meal to make sure you eat, that’s aight with me.” 

While the pair were happy about the pregnancy, Michael found it difficult to witness the toll it already took on his wife’s body. She could barely keep food down, which did not make her want to eat at all, and despite sleeping every chance she got, she still felt fatigued all the time. Michael was the only person who could coax food into her these days. And right now, his baby’s food of choice were his world famous pancakes. He knew the taxing schedule on set was not helping, though Steven tried his best to ensure Charlie had enough breaks and time to rest. She was not very good at taking them and using them to actually rest though, despite his urges to do so. He hoped that as soon as they wrapped, he could convince her to take it easy. 

“I’m good. Just a couple more weeks, baby.” At his raised eyebrow, she nodded to reassure him. “Seriously, I’m fine. I’ve gotten used to it. It’s fucking miserable and they don’t tell you that morning sickness is a fucking lie. It’s all-damn-day sickness. But,” she concluded her mini rant. “The worst’ll be behind us in no time.” 

Michael leaned over and whispered to her stomach, “Go easy on mama today, ok? She’s working really hard to keep you healthy.” 

He peppered her stomach with kisses, causing Charlotte to giggle. She playfully smacked his arm to get him to stop, her hand lingering against the taunt muscles straining against his shirt. Her nails dragged against the length of his bicep, Michael immediately registering the look of lust in her eyes. He would say he and his wife’s appetite was generally in sync. However, her doctor warned that hers could diminish or skyrocket due to the hormones. Lately, it seemed like only the latter was true. Not that he was complaining. 

He shook his head. “Honeybee… We gotta go. You know Steven’ll fine us both if we’re late.” 

Charlotte’s lips curled up into a sly smile, deciding that his words were a mere challenge. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him as she sucked on his neck, teasing his most sensitive spot.

“You ain’t playing fair, Els,” he whispered in her ear. 

“Like you ever do?” She gently bit his skin before continuing her teasing. “Now, let me finish and I’ll make that fine worth it for both of us.”  

This girl…, Michael thought to himself. He knew they both should be heading out the door to work. But when it came to his wife, he lacked all self control.

“How?” 

She continued to suck on his ear and gently bit his neck as her hand slid into the waistband of his joggers, his member already straining against his boxers. Her touch immediately pushed the thoughts of a fine out of his mind, immediately picking her up and whisking her away to their bedroom for a late morning quickie before set because he knew she would make it worth it.

***

“And cut!” Steven called out, Michael immediately pulling on her arms to help her sit up off the bed.  “That was good, that was good. But Charlie… I need a lot more energy. Feels like it’s dragging a bit. I think we need a couple more takes to sharpen it up a bit and then I’ll cue straight into the intimate part of the scene. We probably only need to do that one once or twice. We’ll take 10 to reset and then we’ll start from you coming into the hotel room straight through the engagement and kiss. Sounds good?” 

The couple nodded, Charlotte letting out a groan of frustration at herself as soon as Steven walked away. She was trying her best today, but she was pulling from a well that had run completely dry. She was giving it every ounce of energy she had and she did not feel like there was much else to offer her director and scene partner. And she despised knowing that her all was still not enough. 

Michael’s hand cupped her head, avoiding her face to not disturb her makeup, his fingers gently massaging the base of her skull. Her eyes fell closed at the soothing and relaxing touch. “You ok?” 

“Yea, yea. Just tired.” Her words were emphasized by a long yawn she could not stifle. 

“I can ask him to take a longer break?” 

“No, no. I’m good.” 

“You wanna eat something? Did you drink water today? Always forgettin’ to drink water,” he mumbled under his breath. He glanced around until his eyes landed on a PA. “Aye, can you grab a bottle of water for her?”

“Right away, sir.”  

“I already ate and yes, I drank water today, dad.” She huffed with annoyance. “I’m good, Bakari. I promise. Just tired and a bit uncomfortable. If it makes you feel better, I’ll call the doctor as soon as we finish up this scene.” 

“Deal.”  

Though he did not press the issue farther, she could feel his eyes on her from that moment forward, following her every movement, examining every action for signs of pain, discomfort, or exhaustion.  

She pushed herself off the bed as she saw Steven coming back to the director’s chair, a sign she needed to return to her starting spot in the bathroom. However, she only made it a step before a searing pain rippled through her lower back. 

“Oof,” she whispered, sitting back down, her hand gently massaging it irritably as she waited for it to subside. 

“Places!” She heard Steven call. 

This time, she was able to get up with no pain and make her way to the bathroom  and closed the door to start the scene.

“Annddd action!” 

However, as soon as she went to open the door, the cue to start their proposal scene, she doubled over, her legs almost giving out as another cramp,  this one far worse than the last, hit her. She audibly and instinctually groaned in pain, a sound that immediately caught her husband’s ear.

She did not have to say a word or call for help as she braced herself over the sink, Michael having almost ripped the door off it’s hinges to be at her side in superhuman speed.. 

“Els??” 

“S-something’s wrong,” she whimpered, doubled over in pain, her arm wrapped tightly around her stomach.. 

“Aye! Call an ambulance!” Michael called out, the entire set jumping into action as he cradled her against his chest.

“F-fuck… fuck, it h-hurts.” 

“Ok, Charlotte, baby. You gotta breathe for me. We’re gonna get you to a hospital, aight? It’s gonna be ok.” 

She merely let out a sad whimper of acknowledgement, tears springing to her eyes as she knew in her heart what was happening. She did not need a doctor to tell her. She did not even look at Michael, fear that he would be able to see it in her eyes. 

His fingers interlaced with hers as they rode to the hospital, he did not let her go until the doctor came in to examine her and ushered him out, an action he did reluctantly.

He paced up and down the visitor’s lounge, occasionally sitting to answer a text from folks on set or their families as they reached out to check on her. His constant refrain, “no news yet,” got harder and harder to type as the time ticked by. He wished he had more to give, and had answers himself. In between staring at the ugly patterns littering the chairs of the waiting room and burning a hole in their carpet from his incessant pacing, he tried to google her symptoms to determine what could be wrong. However, he only got through one result before he could not read any further. He prayed his suspicions and crude google searching were not correct, that this dream they had created, built, and made a reality was not being torn from their hands just as they had started to cling to it. But he knew God’s plan rarely aligned with their own. 

“Mr. Jordan?” A nurse came up to him, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

He almost jumped out of his seat. 

“C-can I see her?” 

“Of course, I’ll take you back now.” 

He followed after the nurse, his body finding it hard to put one foot in front of the other for the first time. It was as if he was approaching the gallows but no one had told him yet. He just knew it. He hated that, that feeling of dread that followed him down the winding halls of the hospital like a ghost. It felt like deja-vu, this feeling, this scene was all too familiar, a dreaded walk down a sterile hospital hallway to his wife, a walk he had once prayed he would never have to do again. That instance had a happy ending, however, he did not think he would be so lucky this time. 

He took a deep breath before pushing open her door, finding her alone staring up at the tiled ceiling. Her bloodshot eyes shifted toward the door at the sound of it opening, the young woman immediately sitting up at the sight of her husband.

Her eyes immediately welled up with tears. 

“I-I a-am s-so sorry.” 

Michael had certainly experienced heartbreak before in his life. But he was not sure if he had ever felt it shatter quite like this as he heard the brokenness in his wife’s voice. He could see her guilt and shame so clearly, two emotions she did not earn or deserve to carry. 

He sniffled, a tear escaping before he wiped it quickly. Despite the pain he felt, he knew hers was tenfold emotionally and physically. He could process his emotions later. Right now he had to be here for her. He wrapped her in a tight hug, her body sagging into his and her fingers clutching him as if releasing him would mean losing the last bit of composure she had. He placed a lingering kiss on the top of her head and held her as she sobbed, the couple grieving the loss of a life and their dream.  

When Charlotte finally stopped crying and the doctor returned to give them her prescription and all the after care information they needed, Michael took copious notes. He could tell that Charlotte was not fully there, her despondent and unmoving gaze at the wall across from the doctor gave away the fact that her mind was far from the small room in the ER. 

She did not cry or even shed another tear after he entered, her eyes the only sign that she had cried at all. Her face was neutral, wholly unshaken and unmoved by the doctor’s explanation of the next week or two of their lives and the pain she was likely to be in. The only comfort he could offer was a prescription to speed up the process. But he still recommended she take a week to rest. Everytime he asked her if she had any questions, the shake of her head was miniscule and she spoke no words except the apology she uttered when Michael first entered the room. 

And that trend continued well into the evening when they returned home and into the next day. She merely existed, moving through the motions like a robot, mechanical and unfeeling. She accepted his help without protest, offered no rebuttal to his suggestion for dinner, which she barely ate, and gave him only clipped one word answers when he asked about her pain levels or offered her medicine. Even his “I love you,” when he got her settled in bed went unanswered, though he knew she heard him, felt her whole body tense and stiffen at the words before she turned away from him to go to sleep without uttering them back. Her icy actions did not improve the next day either, Michael having far too many one-sided conversations as he tried to care for his wife. Her actions were cold, colder than he ever knew them to be. And when all he wanted to do was cling to her and mourn their loss together, it only compounded his pain to feel that rejection and be forced to contend with it alone.

***

“Alright, thanks Mike. Charlie is in hair and make up and then we’ll do two scenes in the apartment before calling it a day.” 

Michael did a double take when he heard his wife’s name, figuring that Steven had merely misspoken. He glanced up from his cell phone where he was taking notes.. “Nah, Els is at home till next week.” 

Steven glanced down at his call sheet. “Nah, she is here.” Michael nearly ripped the clipboard out of the man’s hands, his eyes scanning it until he found her name with a call time of an hour prior. “She’s been in hair and make up for a bit. She said whatever was wrong cleared up and confirmed her schedule with me last night.” 

Michael turned away from Steven and expelled a deep breath of rage. His hands balled into a fist for a moment as he tried to not blow up at his director and lose his job. However, he did not know who he was more upset with, Steven for not checking with him or his wife for pulling this type of shit in the first place.  

“Why didn’t you mention that shit to me?” 

Steven seemed totally unphased by Michael’s anger. He was a husband, he understood. But work was work and he would not apologize or feel bad for doing his job. “She’s your wife but here she’s a peer, just like anyone else. She said she was good to go. I can’t ignore that just because you disagree. She’s her own person, Mike. If she said she’s good, I gotta respect that.”

As if on cue, Charlotte walked onto the set. She had her script in hand and engaged in a lively conversation with one of the PAs. Her laughter filled the quiet set, Michael not understanding how she could seem so bubbly and energetic when he knew she was still in pain and grieving. Her body was still reeling from the miscarriage. Even if she would not share the details with him, he knew she was still in pain. No one on set knew the real story, the pair lying about what was wrong since no one knew she was pregnant. So Charlotte made sure to put on a show, even if she did not feel like it and even though it was incredibly difficult as she played a new mom in the movie. Even though it was hard to push through the walls of both physical and emotional pain surrounding her, she knew she had to.   

“Aye Charlie!” Steven waved her over. 

Charlotte sighed and excused herself from the conversation before making her way to Michael and Steven. She knew this was not going to be a good conversation. When Michael left the house this morning, she had been in bed resting. She had purposely asked Steven to make her call time later so she could leave without the watchful eye of her warden. 

It had been four days and though Michael and the doctors’ said she should rest for about a week, she just could not sit in the house by herself and wallow in their loss any longer. Besides, being at home felt like it’s own form of torture for the last four days, she and Michael existed like repelling magnets, orbiting around each other but unable to be close.

Charlotte knew it was her fault, she was doing the repelling this time around, not him. But she could not help it. Her guilt and shame ate her alive every moment of the day. That coupled with the physical pain she was in and grief she felt was a dangerous combination. And while Michael was dotting on her and wanted to talk through their feelings, she just could not. Every time she tried to find the words to speak to him, she couldn’t, the shame stealing the words right from her mouth. She could not even truly look him in the eye, terrified of what she would see in his usually compassionate eyes when she did and terrified of what he would say if they talked. He would blame her for not taking care of herself and his child and he would see her as the failure she was. It was a long time coming, she supposed, a fear she had suppressed but lived with since she met Michael. But she feared this was the final nail in her coffin, the disappointment he could not live with. And it would be a completely fair assessment, that was the truth in her mind. However, she just could not bear to hear those words from him, not on top of everything else. It was easier, better, to just avoid him. She needed an escape from all those feelings that plagued her so she decided to return to work. She needed that now more than ever. 

“Hey!” She offered brightly, ignoring Michael’s furrowed eyebrows and tense jaw, telltale signs that he was angry. “What’s up?” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to set today? The doc said you need to be in bed for a week, Charlotte.” 

“Yea if you need a few more days, that’s totally fine. There’s still a lot to shoot with Mike and Florian that we can work through.” 

“No, this is the filming schedule so I’m here. I feel fine.” Her tone was short, hoping to leave no room for debate or conversation. However, she knew her husband was too protective for that. Her words might have been enough for Steven but they certainly weren’t enough for Michael.

Michael shook his head. “You are not fine, Charlotte. You need to go home.” 

“No.” 

Her tone was not rude but the word settled in Michael’s ear and immediately angered him. They never told each other no without explanation or compromise. 

“No?” 

“I’m gonna go and check in with the AD while yall work this out.” Steven immediately excused himself, not desiring to be caught in a marital squabble. 

Michael gestured for Charlotte to follow him outside, the pair offering polite nods to people they passed as they walked to his trailer, the only spot on set where they could have privacy. His door slammed shut behind him loudly, an audible representation of his anger.

“Fuck you mean, no?” 

“No is a complete sentence, Bakari. I’m good. And now I’m gonna go do my job. It’s not a big deal.”

“‘It’s not a big deal??’ You just had a miscarriage, Charlotte!” He noted how her whole body seemed to flinch as he said the word. “Look me in my eye and tell me you aren’t in pain.” 

As much as she wanted to, she could not. The bleeding and cramping still had not stopped, even several days later. The doctor had warned her but knowing it could last a week or more did not make it any less torturous. But that did not seem reason enough for her to return to their home. She would rather work through every cramp than lay in her bed alone analyzing what happened and what she could have done differently, and obsessing over whether her husband might leave her.  

“Exactly. I’ll call you a car but you need to go home. And if you’re worried, I can tell Steven what happened. He’ll understand why you need the days, especially considering the contents of the movie. You don't gotta do this.” 

The thought of telling their director what happened only enraged her more. “Absolutely not! We aren’t telling him or anyone else!” 

“Why not??” 

“Because he already saw me sick a-and I don’t need the entire set, and because people fucking gossip, the whole world to know my body is fucking failing at its one job!”

She turned away from him, letting out a groan of frustration at letting her thoughts slip out. Michael had a way about him, of demanding honesty and vulnerability even when she fought so hard to keep it to herself. That is why she avoided long conversations with him lately. Something in him always demanded she fall, and she was not prepared to do that and face his rejection. However, she did not notice how his eyes immediately softened as her words settled in the air, the word failure hitting him harder than Florian’s punches. 

“Baby, is that what you th-” Michael’s hand went to the small of her back to turn her around but she flinched away from him. She could not hear lies to placate her or make her feel better about what happened. They would not work. She was a failure, she knew it and so did he. 

“I said no, Michael,” she cut him off, sliding on a cold exterior to hide the one that wanted to do nothing other than crumble into a thousand pieces. “And I mean it. I’m working until the day’s over.  And that’s that.” She knew her words and actions bordered on irrational and he was not in the wrong for fighting him on it. But work, the bustle of set, was the only place she could retreat to where she knew she would not fall apart, where she could feel something other than the harsh sting of failure and shame. So she could not leave. This set was her life raft and she would cling to the flimsy sides of it tightly to avoid drowning in her own sea of despair. 

“Charlotte. I ain't askin’,” Michael's voice got low, the tone he only reserved for when her stubbornness reached untenable levels, when he was done debating or arguing. She always acquiesced to his wishes at that point because he pulled out this tactic rarely, only to convey how serious he felt. But her need for self-preservation outweighed her desire to avoid a fight with her husband. So she clung to her stubbornness, an ironclad refusal to yield even an inch. She squared her shoulders and took a step toward him, his body blocking the door. 

“And I wasn’t negotiating. Unless you’re gonna have Steven kick me off set or close the set altogether, I am not leaving. And I know you aren’t gonna do either of those things.” She gestured toward the front of the trailer. “Move, Michael.” 

The pair stared each other down for a moment, their first true stalemate in their marriage where neither of them would concede. Michael knew he would have to be the one to bend this time, there was no other option. He could pick her up and force her into a car but that was not his way. If she would not leave on her own, he very well would not force her physically or by embarrassing her on set. He knew his wife’s coping mechanisms were unhealthy and that a day on set playing a mom would only amplify their pain but he also knew when her walls were up. She had stacked them higher than could be broken down or through today, it was a waste of both of their energy. 

He sucked his teeth and nodded, sliding to the side to let her pass. She marched by him, only stopping when he grabbed her arm, his touch was cautious and gentle, his grip loose enough that she could remove her arm the moment she wanted to. But she lingered, made no attempts to rip her arm from his touch before he could offer a final word in their argument. His finger went to her chin to force her eyes toward his. He could see her trying to look anywhere but at him. But he could see the thinnest mist cast over her eyes as he held her there for a moment. 

“I know you better than anyone, Charlotte. And I know you’re hurting. Lying and avoiding that doesn’t do shit for either of us. I love you and I just want to help. You’re gonna have to talk to me eventually.” 

She sniffled and forced her eyes to the ceiling to stop tears from falling. 

“I just want to work, Michael. I don’t want to talk, I don’t want help, I don’t want to wallow in it. I j-just…” her voice broke as she hastily wiped a fallen tear. “I just want to go do my job. It’s all I have right now and that is what I want to focus on. I just want to go do that. Now please, let me go.”  

He immediately dropped her arm, the young woman taking a deep breath before she wiped a stray tear from her face and stepped out of his trailer without a second glance. Michael watched her retreat until the door to his trailer swung closed again.

Tag list: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings

A/N: So we got a one shot of Michael pushing Charlotte away, seemed only fitting that we get a parallel situation with Charlotte pushing him away. Drop a comment and let me know what you thought and if you want to be tagged! Thanks for reading :)

[mosneakers]

After tenderly tucking their two darling daughters safely into their warm and cozy beds, Agnes and Erik retire to the master bedroom, preparing to turn in for the night. A bittersweet image is reflected from the luxurious vanity mirror. With each delicate stroke of Agnes's ornate bronze hair brush, her silky golden locks unveil brief glimpses of a hidden frown.

Coraleye beams in awe, watching Agnes's reflection in the mirror. Coraleye: Grandma, you're the epitome of grace and beauty. Look at you! Agnes: [Gently nudges Corarleye with her elbow] Oh quit that, will you.

Coraleye's smile starts to fade. Coraleye: But you look so sad. Even after getting to move back to your home in Sunset Valley? You really weren't excited about having a third baby at this point, were you?

Agnes: I didn't want to be expecting, no. I least I thought I didn't, anyway. Until this night, when I found out I wasn't. That's when the truth was realized.

Coraleye: Oh...

Erik: Aggy, baby, what is it? I thought you didn't want any more kids right now. I figured you'd be glad about your monthly visitor.

Agnes: [Sniffles] I thought so too, darling. I suppose I allowed myself to become excited about the idea. Turns out I'm actually quite disappointed, if I'm being perfectly honest.

Erik continues offering solace to his wife, urging her to confide in him. The spirit of Agnes guiding Coraleye approaches Erik, studying the remaining youth in his features. She gently rests her hand on his chest; though Erik cannot feel her touch, the emotional resonance of the exchange hits Coraleye like a wave, as she wraps her arms around herself in an attempt to hold herself together.

Agnes: He's so young here; What has time done to you, my love? Coraleye, darling, life is awfully short. I want you to always remember, to hold onto your memories and all your heart's desires for as long as you can, and never make the mistake of not listening to them. One day you'll blink, and your memory won't be like it is now.

Coraleye's trembling frown gives way, and tears drop down her rosy cheeks, unable to contain them any longer.

Erik puts on a record, and the vintage melody fills the room. By her hands, Erik leads Agnes to her feet, where he gently wipes the tears from her face. Erik: Let's dance, honey.

Agnes: [Giggles] Erik! What are you doing? It's getting late, we should get to bed. Erik: Aggy baby, if you want a baby, then I've got work to do! We'll figure out the details later, okay? Agnes laughs joyfully as Erik pulls her in closer for a slow dance.

The spirit-guide Agnes smiles at her great-granddaughter lovingly. Her brows furrow as her focus then hones in on Coraleye's tears, still flowing. She gently wipes away a tear and whispers words of comfort.

Agnes: What's the matter, my love?

Coraleye: [Sniffles and wipes eyes] It's just... you two are so incredibly sweet. The love you share is so obvious. The way he looks at you, Grandma! I'm so scared my future won't measure up to yours, or my parents', even. I worry that I'm falling short of the legacy and everything else.

Agnes: Oh, honey... listen to me. Agnes affectionately traces Coraleye's hair behind her ear.

Agnes: You don't have to go about this in the same manner that we did! Forge your own path, dear. The essence of this legacy lies in granting second chances to someone we love, provided they're deemed worthy. It's a profound responsibility for one heart. Understand, the journey won't be simple should you decide to embrace it. Coraleye: ...Should I decide to embrace it.

Agnes: I share this with you not to instill fear, but to equip you for the challenges that lie ahead. Soon, my dear, you'll face a profound pain that may feel insurmountable. Yet, I know you are very capable of weathering it.

Coraleye: [Concerned tone] Grandma, how do you know this? Are you able to see the future? Agnes: The privilege of magic and resurrections isn't taken lightly, and it doesn't come without consequences. Our currency for second chances and love is excruciating pain. Some may see it as a curse, but I find it makes these tender moments all the sweeter. The choice of who is worthy of navigating this journey by your side, is ultimately up to you.

Coraleye: But Grandma... How will I know who that person is? That they can be trusted?

Agnes: You see the way your grandfather looks at me in this moment? That's how I knew, honey. Coraleye ponders for a brief moment, watching them dance gleefully around the room. As their kisses grow more passionate, she senses that her time to observe is running out. Just before the spirit Agnes concludes the session, Coraleye speaks up, her voice breaking.

Coraleye: I... I think I've seen that look before.

[nicohischierz]

dress: nico hischier

tani speaks: did i right another nico fic where he’s dating his female teammate? yes because i need a distracting and this was the only thing i could think off

it was natural for you and nico to show up at team events together considering you were roommates. what members of the team missed were the longing stares between the two of you or the way your fingers roamed each other's body.

you'd always try to cover the marks nico left on your body as the two of you enjoyed the night together. none of the guys on the team saw the small number 13 tattooed on your outer wrist, a late-night decision after dinner with your boyfriend.

when the two of you were out in public, there was no indication of your secret romance. nico would always end up in a group with timo, jonas and erik as you joined jack, dawson and now luke.

all six of them were oblivious to the way you and the captain barely contributed to the conversation at hand just to be able to resist going over to one another and ruining everything.

no one knew that you and nico would spend the night in each other's bed on the road or how the two of you would order room service, put on a good movie and call it a date just to avoid getting caught.

it was the night of your 21st birthday. the devils wags had kept you occupied the whole day getting ready for the night's festivities. before the party began, the girls had helped you get dressed in a short silver dress with a plunging neckline.

the moment you had tried the dress on, you knew nico would appreciate it. and you were right. the second nico saw you step out of the elevator.

"y/n," he mumbled the second he was able to get you alone. at that moment you felt as if it was only you and nico up on that roof. the noise of your cheering teammates and their significant others silenced as you relished in your captain's arms.

you and nico lasted two hours before you feigned being too drunk to walk and decided it was time to go home. the second nico stepped into your apartment he already made a move on taking your dress off.

he wasted no time taking you to your shared bedroom to show you just how crazy you made him feel. you told him how you bought the dress with him in mind and that made him go crazier.

over the time you and nico dated you enjoyed the sneaking around and secret touches when no one was looking. the way the two of you would go out with the team and be completely normal but the second you came home you knew you'd have trouble covering the marks the next day.

some of the wags picked up on the subtle hints that something was going on between you and nico. they watched the way nico would whisper something in your ear, causing you to blush. of course, when they asked their significant others they were oblivious to the whole ordeal.

luke was the only one who caught on.

everyone had gone out for a team dinner with the families. you were sat next to nico on one side and luke was sitting opposite the two of you.

the night was filled with wine bottle after wine bottle, but seeing as you, jack and dawson had some drinks prior to coming for dinner you were slightly tipsy.

luke noticed how you would whisper something into nico's ear and giggle as the captain kept a straight face. the young hughes boy didn't miss the way you would place a kiss on nico's neck or shoulder whenever you laid your head on him.

it was also at the dinner that luke noticed the tattoo on your outer wrist. the one so clearly meant for the man sitting next to you.

you spent the night thinking you and nico managed to keep your romance a secret from everyone.

but you were wrong.

everyone at the table watched the way you and nico interacted. the way you unconsciously kept you hand intertwined with his as you engaged in conversation with someone else. they watched the looks of love nico sent your way.

it clicked then to some of the wags.

the way you would smile when wearing a dress, you were thinking about the way nico would react to it when the two of you were out in public.

when you and nico reached your apartment that night you whispered in his ear "I only bought this dress so you could take it off,"

[ladylooch]

Comfort with Nico Hischier

A/N: Woof. That game tonight inspired me. I think we all mutually want to comfort him, so this is for us. Also, I’m purposefully putting this out before I see his post-game interview because I cannot. Nobody show me 🫣 edit: omg wait they didn't interview him? Oh it's bad, BAD.

Part of What My World Spins Around AU

Word Count: 695

My arms are crossed over my chest as I wait after game 2 for Nico. 

The Devils are down 2-0 in the series and looking completely unequipped to be in the post-season right now.

I sigh, wrapping my arms tighter as I look up to see if Nico is coming yet.

He isn’t.

I toss a wave to Kristen Haula as her and Erik leave with their baby. Once they are passed, my smile falls from my face again. I move closer to the wall, leaning against it with a disappointed huff. The Hischier on my back scrapes against the cement as I slide into a slouch. I could sense Nico’s irritation grow in the third period. The team came out with some great pep at the start, but everything disintegrated quickly with another Ranger’s goal. It didn’t help that towards the end, players were getting tossed left and right for minor infractions.

Eventually, long after every other player and their family has left, Nico emerges. His stride is fast and angry. He scans the area for me, seeing me against the wall to his right. He reaches his hand out to me, barely stopping for our fingers to lace together, before he is rushing us towards his car. I wait to say anything until we are buckled in and on the road.

“Babe-”

“Not in the mood.” He cuts me off. My stomach twists at his angry tone. His normally calm and collected demeanor has completely disappeared. I bite my lip, keeping my gaze on his rigid jaw. “Don’t look at me like that. Nothing you’re going to say will make this better.”

I turn away from him, crossing my arms to hold my body against the chill coming from the driver’s seat.

We get to our apartment quickly thanks to Nico’s angry foot. We ride up the elevator in silence. His head is leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, hands in his pockets. I click my phone screen to see it’s after 11:00pm. I yawn as Nico goes to unlock our apartment door. He throws his keys on the kitchen counter; they haven’t even slid to a stop before he has disappeared into our bedroom.

I actively avoid Nico from there. I take my shoes off, placing them in the front closet along with my playoff jacket. I hope I’ll get to wear it again. The WAGS are going a little more under the radar for games at Madison Square Garden, so I won’t get to wear it again unless we return to The Rock. I glance behind me, seeing that Nico has shut our bedroom door. I frown, going to the couch to lay down. I pull the blanket up my body, resting my head against the mountain of throw pillows tucked there from my pre-game nap earlier.

I don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep until I feel Nico’s hands under me. He settles my drooping head against his chest as he walks me to our bedroom. He lays me in the middle of the bed. His fingers work my jeans open so I can wiggle them off. They settle forgotten at the end of our bed. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers against my lips. 

“It’s okay.” He shakes his head that it’s not. 

“You don’t deserve this, baby. I’m being an asshole.” He presses our lips together again. His hand trails down to my butt to pull me tighter. He tosses a thick thigh over my hips, cuddling me into a comfort cocoon with him. I sigh against his mouth, threading my fingers through his long hair.

“It’s not over yet.” I remind him. “There is still time. Small adjustments, yeah?” I place delicate kisses in each corner of his lips. “Be their leader, babe. Strong and steady.” His eyes close. 

“I should have let you say that in the car.” He sighs. “That made me feel better.” I can tell. His muscles are softening so he relaxes further into my body. “I love you.”

“I love you more, Hischier.” He snorts in disbelief, but says nothing else. 

We fall asleep wrapped tightly together, fingers tenderly stroking one another.

[otdiaftg]

The Raven King - Chapter Seven

Day: Thursday, October 5th Time: 11:30 PM EST

"I mean literally soft. Too many curves, see? I feel like my hands would slide right off. It's totally not my thing. I like..." He drew a box with his fingers as he searched for words. "Erik. Erik's perfect. He's a total outdoors junkie, rock climbing and hiking and mountain biking, all that awful bug-infested fresh-air stuff. He's stronger than I am, and I like that. I feel like I could lean on him all day and he wouldn't break a sweat." "Funny," Nicky said. "That didn't used to be my type. None of the others I crushed on growing up were anything like that. Maybe that's why none of them could help me." Nicky turned his hands palm-up on the table and considered them. "My parents are kind of crazy, you know? There's religious and there's super psychotic religious. Me and Renee, we're the decent sort, I think. We go to different churches and have some different ideas, but we respect each other anyway. We understand that religion is just an interpretation of faith. But my parents are the black-and-white crazy kind. It's only right and wrong with them: hellfire and damnation and judgment from on high. "For some reason I tried coming out to them anyway," Nicky said. "Mom was pretty upset. She locked herself in the bedroom and cried and prayed for days. Dad took a more direct route and shipped me off to Christian gay camp. I spent a year learning that I was infected by a disgusting idea from the devil, that I was a living test for every other good Christian on the planet. They tried using God to shame me into being straight. "It didn't work," Nicky said. "For a while I wished it did. I went home feeling like an abomination and a failure. I couldn't face my parents like that, so I lied. I pretended to be straight for the rest of high school. I even dated a couple girls. I kissed a couple of them, but I used my faith as an excuse never to get further than first base. I knew I just had to keep it together until graduation. "I hated my life so much," Nicky said. "I couldn't do that, you know? I couldn't live a lie like that day after day. I felt trapped. Some days I thought God abandoned me; sometimes I thought I failed Him. Halfway through my junior year I started thinking about suicide. Then my German teacher took me aside and told me about a study abroad program. She would set it all up for me, she said, if my parents would sign off on it. She'd handle admissions and get a host family and everything. It'd be expensive, but she thought I needed a change in scenery. Guess she knew I was that close to the edge. "I didn't think Mom and Dad would go for it, but they were so proud of me for my so-called recovery they agreed to let me go my senior year. I just had to last another semester and then I could go. I was so desperate to get out of there I didn't even really pay attention when Aaron and Aunt Tilda moved to Columbia that spring. All I cared about was keeping it together until May. I know now I should have tried harder, but I would've been no good to him how I was. "When the plane took off from Columbia, I was scared to death," Nicky said. "I was so relieved to leave my parents and everyone I knew, but I didn't know if being in Germany would change anything. When I landed, my new host brother was waiting for me in Arrivals. Erik Klose," Nicky said, sounding it out like he was saying it for the first time. "He taught me to believe in myself. He showed me how to balance my faith and my sexuality, and he made me okay again. I know it sounds dramatic, but he saved my life." Nicky flipped his hands over and laced his fingers together. The look he turned on Neil was as reassuring as it was worried and made Neil want to edge away. "That's what love is about, see? That's why Exy isn't ever going to be enough, not for you or Andrew or anyone. It can't hold you up, and it won't make you a stronger or better person."

Art used with permission by Kurra. Thank you @kurra !

[wandamyconfort]

if I were you.. | CH.2

wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

summary: y/n is best friends with vision, who ironically, is the boyfriend of his worst enemy, wanda maximoff. until one night, when the clock struck midnight, they are both struck by something mysterious that completely changes the fate of their best friends, including a certain redhead… be careful what you wish for.

CH.1

sorry for any translation errors, english is not my first language

You woke up at 6:00 a.m. sharp as usual. I did this every day even on weekends so as not to lose the habit. Soon went to the bathroom to do his facial skin cleanse followed by 30 minutes of elliptical bike. a relaxing shower to soon after get dressed. a black blouse, jeans and white sneakers. you went downstairs quickly and ate breakfast.

Punctually at 8:00 a.m. you was at school, ready for another day that was already promptly scheduled; First class in history, Biology, Physics II and Mathematics. Then about 10 minutes to clear yourself of the likely scratch cards that were yet to come from Wanda, Valkyrie, Sam or Bucky. Then would perform his solo at the club leaving everyone else dumbfounded and dying of envy of his talent. Not to forget, of course, Mrs. Miller who would try to ruin his life. And later after school would go home to Vision to help him with his subjects which he was still struggling.

Vision left his girlfriend's house before the sun came up. Wanda's parents liked her boyfriend, but didn't find it at all pleasant for the boy to enjoy the moment. Since they had to spend the night out for work reasons.

Natalya and Erik worked together because they were two successful entrepreneurs. They had to always be traveling to conferences, meetings, outreaches, and partnerships with other companies. The trips were sometimes to cities closer but also distant, requiring them to stay up to four days away. That was one thing Wanda and vision had in common: the absence of her parents.

But Mrs. Agnes was the one who rescued the girl's parents. A very nice lady who bordered on 70 years old, gray hair and expressive blue eyes.

Wanda had her as a grandmother, or rather a second mother.

The lady who lived alone, despite having a granddaughter who lived in New York with her father, had been caring for Wanda since the frauds. She had a huge affection for the girl that only tended to increase.

Her house was close by, next to her own. To be sure. In her room, the girl was near the window that facilitated communication between them without having to go to the other's house.

- Banana and... Bacon? - asked moving closer to his bedroom window.

The woman nodded with her infectious smile as she stirred the pot.

- Are you coming for coffee or need a formal invitation? - Agnes asked, raising her gaze.

Wanda didn't think twice about running to her grandmother's house. she would never turn down bananas and a good bacon.

(...)

- Your clothes... I don't know what classification to put them in. - She said, as she analyzed you from head to toe.You just rolled your eyes.

- Y/N, l mean it... I've offered you a redesign but I don't know why it costs to refuse... Look at me. - Took a turn for you to analyze the look. - I'm from Celine today. - she said with a proud smile referring to the brand of your clothing as you looked at it as if it had three heads.

- Get out of the way, freak. - Insulted Bucky followed by a scratch card by one of his friends.

-Thug! - she let go as he took a deep breath covered by the newly scratched card.

- I think your Celine outfit is a lot better now. - You can't help it, trying your best to hold back the laughter.

Natasha ignored it.

"My eyes are burning," she paused for a moment and went back to talking still static. - My clothes will stain and my hair that took me hours to tidy up... And now see how it is! - She let out a scream tapping her foot angrily.

-Comes... Let's go to the bathroom. I help you.

(...)

It was exactly 7:30 p.m. when you arrived at the vision house. The boy opened the door and made a funny grimace.

- Punctual, huh? - Smiled letting you walk past him.

- As always. - she added and smiled when saw his mother in sight there.

- Good evening, Mrs. Stark.

- Hey, good night, Y/n! - Smiled friendly at the girl. - I already told you it's just pepper. Without that Mrs.

you blushed in agreement.

"Son, I'm going to have to be on call again today. It was an unforeseen event, Patricia asked me to replace her and I could not deny it... But I've already prepared dinner. - Argued for vision while fiddling with something inside the bag.

The boy sighed shaking his head in agreement.

- Feel at home, honey. - she said goodbye to the two of them by placing a kiss on each other's foreheads. Already near the door she looks at the vision and smiles.

- Mom Loves You.

Vision just gave a half smile listening to the door of the house closing.

- You should tell her. - You filled the silence that had become.

- Say what?

- Vision... Don't make a fool of yourself. To say that you miss her, her company. Saying you wanted her to spend more time with you. Who loves her!

- I don't know what you're talking about. - He tried to disguise himself while looking at the ground.

-Let's go... Stop. I know you very well. - Got close to him stroking the boy's arm.

"I'm your soul sister, remember?" I know you like the back of my hand.

"So let's go, my soul sister, take my math questions because I'm completely lost. Since the teacher arrives saying "Good morning, class!" I get lost. - he tried to change the subject by making her friend laugh.

He led you into the living room where there were several books on the table.

"And there we go," - you whispered.

(...)

The night quickly followed. You tried to help him with all the doubts without realizing that the hours were passing. He looked at the time on his cell phone and almost had a heart attack when he realized it was 11:27 p.m.

- My parents must already be worried, I have to go.

- Yes, of course. I accompany you. - He said already getting up and screwing up his whole body making a grimace appear on his face when he heard several streaks that to you, were agonizing.

- No need. I'm walking and it's not even that far, just a few blocks...

- I'm not crazy about letting you go alone, especially at this time. Not even thinking. - Grabbed his coat that was on the couch and put it on.

"Okay," rolled his eyes. - I'd really be scared to death of going it alone.

-I know. I know you like the back of my hand. - Smiled repeating the same phrase she had used hours ago.

(...)

It was cold and You ran his hands over his arms to try and warm himself in vain. When he realized it, he instantly took off his coat and gave it to you, who smiled thankfully. You both traced the path by talking about trivial things without being able to avoid spontaneous laughter until you stood on your feet staring at something. The boy frowned looking at you and followed gaze. There was a fountain with a large gray statue in the center, very beautiful. you who adorned that huge almost empty square. had never noticed that source there, so you assumed it had been placed recently. Without holding back, they came closer, exploring her.

They just watched her for a while until her voice broke the silence.

- Vision... Why are you with wanda? I swear I don't understand. - It's been a while since you've wanted to ask that.

-Why not? I like it, simple. - Said friendly.

- I honestly don't understand how anyone can like wanda maximoff. She's so... urg. - He shook his head in disgust.

- You say that because you don't really know her. -Retorted. You snorted looking at him.

- I also don't understand how I can be friends with Sam and Bucky's idiots. They're disgusting!

- I'm not friends with them! We're just teammates on the same football team and that's it. You don't see me talking to them, do you? - He shrugged. - And it wouldn't go down well either, since they threw scratch cards in my face when I was a rookie.

- You said it. - Retorted sarcastically

- I don't know what you're complaining about so much, Y/n. Your life is perfect! - you laughed incredulously hearing that.

- No kidding, right, Stark.

- i'm serious. You are decisive, you don't care what others think of you. You know where you came from, where you're going, you have two parents who love you and who will always be by your side. you has an amazing voice for just a seventeen-year-old girl. you has a bright future as a singer, always knew what you wanted and fights to achieve it tooth and nail... And me. He looked at himself letting out a nosey laugh. - I'm a guy who has no idea what he's going to do after high school, I don't know where I'm going... What good is this 'popularity' now, if in a few years it will be worth nothing?

- What are you talking about? - She asked incredulously. - My life sucks! Everyone sees me as a loser and deep down I really feel that way. I'm not as determined as you think, I try to show myself like this to camouflage my insecurities and not feel like garbage like everyone makes me feel. You are the Quarterback of the team, handsome, popular, all the girls die of love for you. Date the most beautiful and popular girl there, everyone loves you there and... - You rambled and Vision rolled his eyes.

- that's enough!. - He snorted, interrupting his speech. - Don't fuck, Y/n...

- Your life that's perfect here! - You finished by tapping your foot.

- It's yours. -Insisted.

They began a discussion about the perfect life monologue between them. you turned your back on him crossing your arms with a frown ending the argument, Vision did the same. Their breaths were flawed from the debate. They stayed like that for a few seconds, not knowing each other's next move, they both turned forward screaming together:

- I wish I had your life! - They shouted in coincidence, actually ending the discussion.

The pole light flashed instantly and shattered startling you who took a step back. All the lights in the square began to flicker as they broke soon after, leaving the two of them staring at each other in the total darkness of the night.

(...)

you woke up early, at the usual time, slowly opening your eyes, still sleepy you headed for the bathroom when you stopped on your way looking at the bedroom.

What the hell am I doing in the vision's house? -you thought out loud looking around recognizing he friend's room.

- I remember going home and... - Murmured thoughtfully to herself. - Oh, shit! My parents are going to kill me... Sleeping here unannounced, they'll have the marine guard after me by now! - You raised your voice.

- You frowned. - Damn, I've gone hoarse. - This time you whispered, and choked, noticing that your voice was thick.

You didn't think twice and left the room, stunned and sleepy. You went down the stairs looking for the exit, you had to leave urgently and you would get out of there without waking anyone.

It was then that her reflection caught her attention in the mirror that adorned the wall in the large room. you frowned more and took a few steps back. The first thing she did was to widen her eyes, petrified, and cautiously observe if what her eyes stubbornly showed her was just a dream.

Slowly you moved hands up to his face, feeling it, now was sure that this was not a dream? It was a nightmare! You opened your mouth in horror and began to scream sterilely. Your eyes were still on the mirror that showed you the reflection of your friend Vision.

You screamed, screaming louder and louder.

- Son, what happened? Are you okay? - Questioned Pepper, newly awakened by the screaming, walking down the stairs in her pajamas, almost tripping over her own feet, totally frightened.you still had your eyes wide open. you didn't answer, just stared at your reflection in the mirror.- Son? Why are you screaming?

- she approached me, evidently concerned, touching the shoulder that was supposed to be your son. There were no answers to your questions.

- This can't be happening? - you hissed almost inaudibly. Hearing that thick voice, which was not her own, made her even more terrified. - If I'm here then vision is... - you whispered thoughtfully, and without finishing reasoning, walked quickly to the door with quick steps. you just didn't expect to fall. you wasn't used to those long legs.

you stood up again, grabbing the first pair of pants saw on the way. pepper stared at the scene in confusion.

- Where do you think you're going at this hour? - The woman asked as she saw him open the door.

- Don't worry, Mrs. Pepper, everything is fine! - you replied at last unconvincingly, his voice shaking terribly. you tried to calm himself by walking out the door, leaving the stunned and even more confused woman in the middle of the room.

- Mrs. Pepper? - she murmured confused.

(...)

every evening after dinner, scott and hope would sit in the living room in front of the fireplace and talk about banal things, accompanied by a good wine, which always made them go to bed later, which resulted in: they always woke up later the next morning.

you always reproached them for this. always saying that we should all get at least eight hours of sleep. But today you were grateful for that. You entered the house very easily with the extra keys that your parents left hidden in one of the flower pots in the garden.

she closed the door, trying not to make a sound. Her parents were completely unconscious on the living room floor. She walked cautiously up the stairs on her new long legs. If they woke up, she would be dead because she had been caught in the act. After all, what was the boy doing there at that time? She arrived in front of her door and began to knock, trying to make as little noise as possible.

- vision, open this door. - She whispered and knocked again.

You cursed yourself for always sleeping with the bedroom door locked, since you liked privacy, but at this moment you really wanted to break the damn door down and you were sure you could.

- Vision… Damn it, vision, wake up! - You increased the frequency of your knocking, realizing that you wouldn't wake the other one up.

The boy frowned, his eyes still closed.

- Y/n? - he asked lazily, still getting out of bed.

- Open the damn door! - Despair was already taking over his body when he heard a pair of footsteps downstairs.

- What are you doing here? - He didn't finish his sentence after opening his eyes and observing the place.

- Hey… What am I doing in your room?

- Vision, will you please open this fucking door?! - I was getting more and more nervous, impatient, scared, and afraid of what was going to happen behind that door.

- Hey, calm down, I'll be right there… - He speech died after opening the wooden door, now the two were face to face looking at each other in terror.

- You… but I… what?

Vision couldn't formulate a sentence so he limited himself to screaming. you entered, locking the door behind you and covering the boy's mouth to stop the screaming.

- Damn it, don't scream. You'll get my parents' attention! - you whispered.

- Will you be quiet? - vision shook his head frantically.

- W-what happened? - He managed to speak in a stutter, his eyes opening wider and wider as if it were still possible.

- I don't know. I have no idea, when I woke up I was like this. - She spoke quickly, apprehensive, looking at her body.

- If you are me and I am you, then… - He looked stunned at his new body and his eyes widened. - damn y/n… I HAVE BREASTS! - The boy shouted hysterically, running his hands over his body.

You, who hadn't stopped to notice this derealization, turned red, and became hysterical again.

- Oh, holy shit, I have too much volume between my legs.

Unlike Vision, you didn't dare to put your hand on the new body, you just looked down and even though you were wearing sweatpants you could feel it.

- Y/n, honey, is everything okay? - Scott's voice made itself present, knocking on the door, and you widened your eyes.

- Answer! - you whispered to vision remembering that you couldn't do it with that man's voice.

- Yes... Everything's fine baby! - The boy murmured in a shaky voice, trying to sound natural with that feminine voice. He scratched the back of his neck nervously at the girl's gaze on him.

- Everything's fine baby? - mumbled Scott, confused by his daughter's slang, but shrugged. - Come down, coffee is ready. - He said as he walked down the stairs to the kitchen.

slapped Vision on the head, who was now smaller than you.- Everything's fine, baby? Everything's fine, baby?

- I didn't mean it. I was nervous!- It's okay... - He sighed, running his hand through his hair and soon missed his long hair.

- Y/n, what are we going to do? I can't go home like this... - He spoke angrily on the edge of the bed.

- Calm down ... First let's think about what could have caused this. - Reasoned a little trying to keep calm walking from side to side with his hands in his hair.- Maybe it was something we ate...

- Don't be an idiot. No food, no matter how bad it was, couldn't have done such damage.

- Sorry, I'm nervous... - He stood up, tapping his foot on the floor at every moment without taking his eyes off the body he now occupied.

- Or maybe... - You looked at him who now occupied your body.

- Last night... When we came from your house... - You said thoughtfully pausing the words and Vision seemed to understand.

- In the square... - He followed your reasoning.

- The fountain...

- We wished...

- To have each other's lives! - They concluded together.

- No, no, not this! This can't be happening… I didn't mean it, and how is that possible? I was happy with my life, I want my body back! - The young man spoke in agony pacing back and forth in the middle of the room.

- I didn't mean it either, I was just trying to be nice. And this is all your fault, if you hadn't started with the 'Your life is perfect, y/n, blah blah blah' talk, none of this would have happened.

- My fault? It's your fault that you came up with all that monologue about the perfect life and 'Your life is perfect here, Vision'. - he imitated in annoying little Y/N voice, a perfect imitation, by the way, since the voice was her own.

You looked at him with a frown and went on. A small fight started between the two of you, who were now rolling on the floor of the room.

- Give me my body back! Give it back! - Vision shouted, his small body on top of the other as he squeezed what had been his face the night before as if he wanted to get her off him.

- No! You give me back my body! - you shouted, now taking control of the fight and standing over the other, pulling the brown hair that used to be his.

- Ouch, ouch, enough! - he pushed her. - This way we won't get anywhere! - Vision put an end to the fight.

- You're right... Instead of fighting let's try to find solutions to solve this. - she stood up and helped the other soon after. - And I think I already know where we start...

The two went out the back door without being seen by Scott who was watching TV. Hope was still asleep, now lying on the sofa. You, who now occupied the boy's body, were dressed in a blue tank top that made the blonde's statuesque body clearly visible. A pair of black sweatpants and sandals. Vision who occupied your body was wearing his pink pajamas and put only a jacket on top, they drove to the square where everything started.

When they arrived at the place they were surprised, for there was no fountain anywhere. But there was a huge hole where it used to be, with pipes in sight and some bricklayers assessing the place.

- What happened here? - Vision asked, approaching one of the bricklayers involved in the work.

The same one stopped his work looking at the two young people, immediately looked at Vision drying him, seeing that the unknown girl was wearing a baggy pink shorts leaving her legs showing. You, who was behind Vision, noticed this and made a face of disgust, clearing his throat.

- Ah, there was a problem with the plumbing, some pipes burst, that is, a disaster! We'll have to replace everything.

- And the fountain... where is it? - You in the friend's body asked, checking all around without any trace of it.

- It had to be removed while we fixed everything.

- But you don't know where they took it?

- Um... No. But if you go to the city hall, I think someone can tell you. - The youngsters didn't waste any time. The town hall was right in front of the square.

- Can you give us some information? - The person who occupied the Y/N body turned to the old receptionist, with a face that said 'I hate my job'.

- It's about the fountain that used to be in the square. We want to know where it is. - You who occupied the boy's body asked, already impatient.

- I don't know. - answered automatically while you were messing with the computer.

- What do you mean you don't know? For God's sake, it's a fountain with a huge statue right in the center.

- Calm down. - interrupted the boy next to her. - You'll have to excuse her... I mean, he! - He corrected himself when he noticed the confused look on the woman's face, who was now looking at them with an arched eyebrow. - It's just that that fountain was of great sentimental value to us... So if you would be so kind, could you help us, please?

- she rolled his eyes at the girl's plea. - not in town, I don't know exactly where are. There's no information here. - she said while his dark eyes checked the computer screen. - But it says here that he will be back. Well, let me see…

Your eyes scanned the screen and you started tapping your foot on the floor impatient with the delay.

- Ah... Here it is. In a month it will be back.

- ONE MONTH? - You shouted and some people who worked there looked at him. Vision, occupying her friend's body, elbowed her in the rib.

- Okay. Thanks! - Vision resigned himself. he knew she had nothing else to do but wait. He pulled his friend's strong arm and left the place to spare themselves from further humiliation from the stares and whispers of several people who were in the place stared at them for not being dressed appropriately. Especially you, who was now him and tentatively wearing pink pajamas.

- What are we going to do now? - You groaned, putting your hands through your hair. You were visibly worried as you stared at the road in the passenger seat and at the driver's seat occupied by the body that now didn't belong to you.

- I don't know. - You looked at her and saw your own worried brown eyes. - I guess we'll have to wait... I still don't understand how that fountain could have caused us this. I mean, what kind of fountain was it? Fountain of desires? - he exclaimed sarcastically, making quotation marks with your fingers without looking away from the road.

- I don't understand it either. But now that you told me that, I remembered something… - you was trying to remember. - Just below the central statue of the fountain there was a small metal plate with some words… Do you remember?

- I think so… - he wrinkled his forehead, thoughtful. - Yes, there was but it wasn't in English so it didn't hold my attention much. It seemed to be in Italian, or Russian or German… I don't know. - He was also trying to remember.

A brief silence flooded the car and Vision decided to go home, and as the clock was eight o'clock he assumed that his mother would already be in the hospital.

- Wait... Fare Attenzione a ciò che si desidera! - you tried to pronounce the words that were now invading his mind.

- What? Speak our language, Y/n! - That was the phrase. - And what does it mean? - he asked confused.

- I have no idea? but we can find out. - You answered, getting out of the car and following the boy who had already opened the front door. They confirmed that the boy's mother had already left for work with the typical notes that they used to leave her, this time on the coffee table in the living room.

"Son, I won't be on call today, Patricia is already better and will be taking over my shift as a thank you, I was worried about how you were this morning. You looked dazed. I'll be early, don't be late for school.... Mommy loves you."

Vision was reading that note as You already took hold of the small laptop, which was sitting on top of the couch. To search for those unknown words that now could not get out of your head.

- Be careful what you wish for... - You whispered, seeing the meaning of that phrase, still keeping your eyes fixed on the computer screen in your lap.

- So... That's it. I guess we'll just have to live each other's lives. - murmured the boy, coming closer.

- Are you crazy? - you asked incredulously. - We have no other way, you heard that lady. The damned fountain won't be back for another month, what are we supposed to do between now and then?

- Let's tell someone what happened. - Maybe someone can help us. - You said.

- Do you think that's a good idea?

- It costs nothing to try. - you frowned and remembered something, looked at the clock on one of the walls. - Damn, Vision, it's going to be almost nine o'clock, we're already late! - you whined, crying. Yes, you were crying, but not because you were going to be late, that was just a pretext. You were crying because you were terrified of everything that was happening.

- Stay calm. It's okay if we're a little late, everything will be fine. I'm here, we're in this together.

He knew you better than anyone else and knew you were afraid so he wrapped you in a tender embrace which resulted in you both feeling strange, embracing yourself was indescribable

- Besides, I'm horrible at crying, so stop. - He said in a humorous tone, separating from the hug and looking at the face that until yesterday belonged to him.

You couldn't help but draw a small smile at the comment.

- Have I ever said I have a nice smile? - Vision asked smugly, causing you to slap him. The boy looked at you with a pained expression, it had hurt.

you chose not to take a shower, you really weren't ready for that yet. You couldn't imagine cleaning a body that wasn't yours, even though you knew it would happen at some point. You still needed to assimilate all this, so you just changed clothes trying to keep your eyes closed with the help of Vision who showed you what to wear: a pair of beige jeans, a white tank top, and a green plaid shirt over it, and sports shoes.

- Y/n, I don't even think I'll need to go to your place to change. - You had slept a few days ago at your friend's house because of a double work and decided to stay there. you should have forgotten that sweater and a pair of jeans that had already been washed.

- Great. Then get dressed and let's go.

- I think I should take a shower first. - he said expectantly with a humorous sideways smile.

- Don't you dare! - You gave him a murderous look.

- Okay. The one who spoke is no longer here. - He laughed lightheartedly and started to change his clothes.

(...)

In less than ten minutes by car they arrived at the school. In the end neither of them had been late, because the first class was geography for both of them and it had been vacant. Then they walked, as if everyone in the hall knew it, towards the lockers to get the books for the next class.

- Are you ready? - sighed the boy with all his belongings in hand.

- I think so.... I mean, no! - She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them, she was nervous.

- And you?

The image of Valkyrie and Sam appeared in the hallway with the usual scratch card in their hands. The tall girl smiled with amusement as she saw Loki picking up his books from the floor, freshly knocked over by a basketball player. As the boy stood up with everything in hand, the girl knocked the scratch card right into his face, who now dropped all the books again to wipe his eyes.

- You immediately closed your eyes tightly as you saw Sam come close. But the cold scratch never came.

- Damn... I had forgotten how it burns. Poor Loki. - muttered the boy, his eyes closed with anger.

At the same moment you opened yours and found your friend's face all soaked and squeezing his eyes, at that moment you mentally thanked for not being in your body.

- You'll have to get used to this. - You helped him clean himself up.

- This is supposed to be the moment when you are supposed to help me look on the bright side of things. - He opened a small smile still scratching his eyes. Vision quickly remembered something and opened his still red eyes and looked startled at you.

- What now?

- Damn, what are we going to do with Wanda? - You widened your eyes.

- Oh... Oh, shit! - You cursed.

- Vision, why didn't you call me yesterday?You said you would call me but I didn't get any call from you. Why didn't you call me? - questioned the redhead who had approached the two of them.

- I'm sorry... - She interrupted herself realizing the situation she was in. The girl who had her hands on her waist dropped them when she heard the other's voice. She turned her eyes away from Vision and looked at the girl, seeing how soaked she was, she tried to hold back her laughter.

- Your house ran out of water and the only way was to take a shower with a scratch pad?

- You hunchbacked ass...

You couldn't continue with the insult as Vision glared at you with his big brown eyes followed by an elbow in the arm subtly so that Wanda wouldn't notice.

wanda was surprised that Y/n didn't retort to her insults. But she paid no attention to it and turned her gaze back to the boy. He looked as if he was having an epileptic fit because he was so restless in his seat. Tension took over. Vision didn't know how to act in front of his girlfriend and you just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.

- Wanda I-I'm going to class now... - You tried to be as natural as possible in front of the other's attentive gaze on you. - Talk to you later, okay? - You improvised, slowly walking away taking Vision with you.

- Vision. - called him in a velvety voice making both of them stop their way. - Aren't you going to give me even a kiss?

[practically-an-x-man]

Prompt: Write a vampire AU snippet for one of your OCs!

Oooooh thank you!! Sorry this took me so long to get to! I think I'm gonna pull from that ask you sent a while back (here's the original, here's the expanded idea), and go with Spider collecting blood through the lens of an experimental art project.

____ Starving Artist

Word Count: 1.6k Content Warnings: vampire AU, blood, needles, suggested mind control (just a teensy bit right at the end...), first meeting ____

The ad probably saved his life. At the very least, it saved his degree. He'd never have been able to make tuition without it.

Avant-garde artist seeking blood donors.

Eric was a little hesitant at first, to say the least. He could only assume that the blood was being used as some sort of paint, though he didn't know enough about art or bloodwork to confirm if that was really the case. For all he knew, the blood could be mixed into tattoo ink and turned into some sort of social commentary on HIV - not that Eric was HIV-positive, but he knew he wasn't the only donor. For all he knew, he'd have his DNA sequenced and that was what they were using for the art, not even the blood itself.

For all he knew, the artist could be one of those real eccentric-types, and he wanted to mix the blood into his food and eat it. He'd heard that Erik Satie (a composer, who Eric only knew about from a late-night Google rabbit-hole of "famous Erics") only ever ate foods that were white. Artists were weird. If the art was "avant-garde", he could bet that the artist was the same.

But law school in America was expensive, and so were rent and groceries, and if he didn't scrounge up a little cash somehow, he'd find himself on the first plane back to Kent.

It wasn't any different from donating to the Red Cross, he thought. The artist had hired a licensed phlebotomist to do the blood draws, and the paperwork all looked about the same as an ordinary blood donation. He went in, spent a little while in the chair, ate some complimentary snacks, and was out of there in less than an hour.

The only real difference was that it paid much, much better than the Red Cross. And they let him take an armload of extra food home with him.

After that, he probably went more than he should have. The Red Cross let you donate every two months. Any more was unhealthy... but this place didn't take as much blood as the Red Cross, anyway.

He needed the money.

He'd get to midterms and then he'd stop. After midterms, things would ease up enough that he could get himself a real job, even if it was a shitty job, and he could make rent that way.

That plan was shot to shit the instant he passed out in the chair.

"Okay, you're done," the phlebotomist said as soon as Eric came to. They wore a mask of concern, but there was a flicker of guilt lingering underneath. All Eric felt was embarrassment. This shouldn't have happened. He'd been eating well, resting as much as he could, keeping his body in good shape... everything he could to offset the blood loss. He knew it wasn't a smart decision from the beginning, donating so often, but at least he'd tried to be careful about it.

"Done?"

"I shouldn't have even let it get this far. You can't donate any more. Not for a few months, at least." they said, fidgeting like a child whose parents had just discovered crayon drawings on the bedroom wall. Eric felt bad for them, he really did. It wasn't their fault. All they did was insert the needle. It was his own fault.

"But I..."

Eric grimaced even to say the words, and an unsettled feeling had gathered in his gut. He still felt clammy and shaky, and found it hard to shrug off the sensation.

"I need the money," he finally managed, swallowing bitter pride as he did.

The phlebotomist pressed their lips together. They were silent for several long moments.

"Let me go talk to my employer," they said. Then, almost as an afterthought: "Don't move."

Eric did as he was told. He was more than curious about the artist responsible for this whole endeavor, yes, but he also wasn't sure if his legs would hold him if he tried to stand up. Not to mention, he'd always had a bit of trouble saying no to people.

He nibbled on the crackers the phlebotomist had left for him and looked around the room as he waited for them to return. The more he looked, the more he wondered about the person who owned the place. The room he sat in was veritably massive, like the whole penthouse had been gutted and reworked into a single large studio. One wall was covered in colorful handholds, the sort there were in those indoor rock-climbing gyms. The opposite corner was packed with crates of something, all obscured by a large gray tarp.

And the windows were covered in blackout curtains. It was midafternoon and sunny, but curtains were drawn tightly shut and the penthouse was instead lit with fluorescent strips embedded in the ceiling. That and the sheer emptiness of the place left it feeling oddly hollow and clinical, like the lobby of a big hospital. Eric wasn't sure what to make of it.

Eccentric.

Yeah, no kidding.

After several long minutes of waiting, Eric heard footsteps echoing into the vast, empty room around him. They weren't the footsteps of the phlebotomist. He twisted around in his seat.

The man was tall and lanky, and he walked like a dancer - crisp and controlled, like he knew where every footstep would land as he crossed the floor. His skin was dark, but with a flat gray pallor to it like a cancer patient. He'd have seemed like some sort of specter, dressed all in black and almost seeming to float across the floor, if it weren't for the cardinal-red, obviously-box-dyed man-bun of tight coils perched on top of his head. Ghouls didn't wear man-buns, Eric thought, and they didn't wear knockoff Ray-Ban sunglasses either.

"You're Eric?"

His voice was softer than Eric would have expected, given the look of him. He took a few steps nearer, but stopped halfway between Eric and the doorway he'd come from. From this distance, Eric could see that he was young - not any older than himself. There was something in his hands, too, a boxy little thing with buttons. A tape recorder, one that that was probably halfway to obsolete by now.

Eccentric seemed more fitting by the moment.

"Er- yeah. Are you the artist?"

"Spider." he answered with a vague nod.

"Spider?"

"Souriya," he said, "Spider's just a nickname."

He said that bit with something like a challenge in his voice: go ahead, white boy. Eric declined. He had other questions, and ones that didn't involve butchering the man's name in his own home.

"The recommendation in the ad says to donate once," Spider continued, "You've been in here every few weeks. Marcel- Dr. Munroe said you passed out."

"Uh- yeah. Rent." Eric replied, doing his best to dodge the question, "Can I ask what you're using the blood for?"

A look of amusement flashed across Spider's face, and he lifted his eyebrows from behind his knockoff Ray-Bans.

"Only if you promise to take a break," he said, "Whole point of this was that I didn't land anybody in the hospital."

That remark confused him, and Eric sat up a little straighter in his seat. Still, he shook his head and suffered another blow to his dignity.

"I need the money. My rent's gone up, and law school's already eating into my-"

"I'll write you a check. Certainly wouldn't mind being in touch with a lawyer that owes me a favor or two."

He said that bit as a joke, with a flash of a wide, crooked smile. There was something jagged in it too, like his teeth were just the slightest bit too sharp. Then the act dropped, and Spider took another languid step towards him.

"Really, though. Better the money goes towards education than just sits around rotting in my bank account. And better you make rent than keep bleeding yourself dry in my living room."

Eric opened his mouth to respond, but heard a soft click from across the room.

"Are you recording this?" he asked, looking at the little object in Spider's hand. He was fidgeting with the buttons, and briefly looked down as if he hadn't even remembered it was there.

"Force of habit. I... collect sound."

But he didn't shut off the tape recorder. Eric made it a mental note not to say anything too... incriminating.

"And blood, apparently." he said, trying once again to get that little question answered, "Why?"

"I need it." Souriya answered, and finally lifted a hand to remove his sunglasses.

His eyes were red. Not brown-red, not that albinism-pink-red, they were red. Like his hair. Like blood. There was an odd reflectiveness to them too, like a cat's eyes at night. It was undeniably inhuman, and Eric was immediately struck with the realization of what he was.

The blood. The blacked-out windows, the florescent lights in the middle of a sunny afternoon. The eyes.

"It was the only way I could think to get it without hurting people," he said, looking Eric dead in the face, "The 'art project'. Which is why I need you to take a break. Alright?"

It was a shockingly altruistic request, he thought. He doubted he'd have been able to say no even if it wasn't. Eric simply couldn't look away, couldn't pull his gaze away from Spider and those shining crimson eyes of his.

All he could do was agree.

[willesredlights]

Thunderstorms - Wilmon

A/N: So I kinda had this idea in my head during a thunderstorm and I had to write it out. It turned out a little bit longer then I meant it to be. But here is Wilhelm being afraid of thunderstorms and Simon comforting him :))

***

A thriller movie is playing on the TV. Both Wille and Simon's eyes are trained on the big black screen, caught up in the movie. Wille is leaning a bit into Simon, their shoulders touching. The more the movie gets to its final, the more exciting it gets. Everything is going fast now but it's not clear what will happen. Wille is in upper concentration, eyes glued to the tv until the sound of thunder startles him. His body is shivering, adrenaline rushing through his body as another thunderclap strikes. Not much after that, the room lights up filling it again with the sound of thunder. Wille's heart starts racing. "Not now please, not now when I'm on a date with Simon", is what he thinks in himself.

"Wille, what's going on? You're shivering?", Simon asks. "Nothing, I guess I'm just cold", Wille tries to play it cool but then there is the thunder again. He closes his eyes, digging his nails in his hands.

"Are you afraid of thunder?", Simon asks on a serious tone, not even a hint of mockery in his voice.

"No- I mean- maybe- yes.", he stutters ashamed. Wille never wanted Simon to know about his fear for thunderstorms, especially not on their second date. He has always felt stupid for being afraid for thunder but he already has been since he was a child. When he used to be little he would run off to Erik's bedroom from the moment he would hear thunder. Erik would always let his brother sleep next to him, trying to comfort him. He always would tell Wille to count. If he saw lightning he had to count and the longer it took for the thunder to follow, the further the thunderstorm was. They would count together and then Erik would say: "15 seconds, that means the thunderstorm is far away, you don't have to worry". And if the thunderstorm was nearby he would hold his brother close, soothing him. After his brother's death, his fear only became worse as he lost the only comfort he had.

The windows tremble as lighting strikes again. Simon takes Wille's hands in his. Rubbing circles with his thumbs on top of Wille's hands. "This is actually embarrassing", Wille says, afraid to look into Simon's eyes. "It's not, everyone has fears". "But only kids are afraid of thunder". "That's not true", Simon says with a comforting smile.

Wille hears the thunderstorm coming closer as the seconds become less. The loud sounds of the thunder are making him anxious. His heart is beating out of his chest as panic spreads through his body.

A bright strike of lightning is immediately followed by an enormous blow making the house tremble. The lightning has struck on something nearby. Wille is completely shaking as his worst fear is that the house he is in gets struck by lightning. His breathing is becoming erratic. "Wille, breathe, it's okay, it's not here", Simon tries to calm him down. Wille doesn't hear a word what he says, concentrating on what is happening outside. "Wille?", Simon tries but still no answer. "Wille listen to me". Nothing. Wille's breathing is out of control as the panic takes it over from him. "What if- what if-", he tries to bring out. "Wille, we're okay", Simon tries another time but Wille keeps looking through the window to see what's happening outside. Simon takes Wille's face in between his hands, diverting his face until he is looking at him. Without thinking he smashes his lips onto Wille's. His thumbs are slightly brushing against Wille's cheeks in a soothing way. He feels Wille relax a little bit more everytime their lips touch.

"Uhm", Wille tries to say something but his mind is blank. "I already wanted to do that since our first date", Simon says blushing. Wilhelm doesn't know what to say so this time it's him who takes Simon's face in his hand, pulling him into a tender kiss. It drowns out the rumbling from outside. His thoughts divert from the thunderstorm to his lips moving in sync with Simon's, sending electricity through his veins.

"The storm is over", Simon smiles as they part. Wille looks outside and the dark has returned without it being interrupted by bolts of lightning. It's quiet again, no rumbling, nothing. He doesn't know how long he kissed Simon but it did help him forget his fear completely. "Maybe thunderstorms aren't so bad", Wille jokes, a wide smile appearing on his face. Simon laughs at his comment. "You would say so hmm", he teases Wille. "Your lips work magic", he says realising how ambiguous that comment sounds. "Shut up", Simon smiles connecting his lips with Wille's again, this time for a more heated kiss.