#like let’s not be surprised and let this man live his life

[screamingatanemptyroom]

“Happy Birthday, my dearest sister!”

Iris walked into her home, the rotting door’s hinges squealing in protest against the movement, only to be greeted by the sight of a brightly decorated room, with a prince holding a cake in the center of it.

Iris let out a quiet sigh, closing the door behind her. She set down her basket of unsold flowers and carefully removed her shoes, cleaning the muddy snow off of them before setting them down in their proper place. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she looked around again.  Her clean but rundown room was all but unrecognizable, with cheerful banners and streamers hung in every available space. The few magical lamps she kept and used sparingly due to the high cost of fuel, were all on at the highest setting, making her frown at the waste.

“…” Iris stared silently at the prince and his advisor behind him, who both stared equally silently back.

"Are you sure this is the one?" He broke first, whispering to the man on his right.

“We are sure, Your Highness. It has been triple confirmed by the court sorcerer. She also bears a star shaped birthmark below her right ear, which was noted at your sister’s birth. This is your long-lost sister, Theodora.” His advisor whispered back.

“…Then why doesn’t she seem excited to see me?”

“Perhaps she’s just overly surprised?”

Iris sighed again.

“Why don’t you have a seat, and we can talk about this over tea.” It had been a long cold day selling flowers on the street, her fingers and toes were numb. She was tired, cold and cranky. This may be a pivotal moment that would change the course of her entire life…

But that was not going to stop her from getting her tea.

The prince shook his head, seeming to break from his shock. “Ah, yes… tea… Gareld…can you…”

“I’ll do it.” Iris interrupted. “He doesn’t know where anything is.” And she didn’t want him snooping around her home, either.

“I can help…” Gareld stepped closer, an uncertain look on his face.

“Both of you. Sit.” Her tone did not allow for argument, and both men sat down, staring silently as she moved around making tea. Iris checked her stock. She still had some dried fairy flowers, which made for a cool refreshing tea when brewed correctly. She hesitated briefly, not really wanting to waste her best tea on these visitors.

I guess Royalty should get your best tea. She tried not to sigh again and failed.

The tea was made quickly. The prince watched appreciatively at her calm, practiced movements, her neatly tied red curls swaying behind her.

“You look just like our mother did, you know.” His voice was wistful, remembering.

“I wouldn’t know.” Her voice was cold.

“…I suppose that is true.” The Prince took the tea she handed him, taking a sip to cover up his embarrassment. He was clearly not expecting much, given their surroundings, but his eyes widened in shock and appreciation. “This is good tea!”

“Thank you.” Iris accepted the complement calmly, drinking from her own cup. “Now can you please explain your purpose here today?”

“Yes. Well.” He was clearly thrown by her calm demeanor but seemed to collect himself. “I am Prince Anthony, the second born prince of the Royal family. I am here because you… you are actually my sister Theodora. You are a princess.”

“…” A silence fell over the table. After drinking more tea and warming herself up, Iris finally picked up the conversation once more.

“I see.”

She stirred her tea, staring down at the dried petals floating on the surface. “If I am your sister, why has that only been discovered now? I have grown up on the streets for as long as I can remember. I have been making a living selling flowers, since the old woman who looked after me died several years ago.”

“…” Anthony seemed embarrassed. “You were switched at birth.”

“By who? And with who?”

He didn’t seem to want to meet her eyes in the face of her calm questions. “I don’t know who switched you two… but you were switched with another girl, who we raised believing to be you. I only know her as Theodora. I don’t know what her name was before the switch she was a newborn, like you.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” He still wasn’t meeting her gaze. Guilty conscience? She wondered.

He seemed to read something in her tone, getting slightly worked up. “Theodora is innocent in this! She was horrified to find out that she wasn’t who she said she was! She cried for days, wishing she could trade places with you, return everything she had taken from you!” He shook his head. “Silly girl, she blames herself for the sins of others. Of course you wouldn’t blame her!”

Iris raised an eyebrow at his confident tone. “Of course.” She smiled, the expression polite but cold. “So, are you here to bring me back to the palace?”

“Yes! When the court mages finally located you, the whole family was anxious to bring you back!” He pointed to the decorations and cake he had brought. “It’s actually your eighteenth birthday! You probably didn’t know.”

“…” Iris studied the cake and decorations. “So why just you?”

“What?” Anthony’s smile faded slowly.

“If the whole family is anxious to get me back, why only send you?” She thought it over. “The Queen died giving birth, but I have another brother besides you, correct? The crown prince, Dominic? And my father is still alive and well?”

There was a long pause, as if he hadn’t expected her to ask that.

“…They are at your sister’s party.” He finally answered.

Iris chuckled. “I have a sister? I was not aware of another princess in the family.”

“It’s Theodora.” He shook his head. “The OTHER Theodora, I mean. We had been planning this celebration for months. We couldn’t move it. In fact, we should probably be leaving soon, or we’ll be late for the party.”

Iris rubbed her forehead tiredly. “Are you planning to bring me to this party?”

“Of course!” Anthony seemed shocked she would even ask. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re my sister!”

“And how are you planning on explaining my identity… and more importantly HER identity, when I show up? Are you making the announcement that she’s a fake princess at her birthday party?” She leaned back, taking another sip of her tea. “That seems unkind.”

“WHAT?” His hand slapped down on the table, rattling the cups and teapot sitting on top. “Theodora is not a fake! She…” Anthony hesitated. “She’s just… a victim, like you.”

“I see.” Iris sat her cup down firmly and smiled again. “Then let’s plan for me to return to the palace tomorrow then. You can go enjoy the birthday party with Theodora, without my presence complicating public perception of her.”  She stood up, not subtly indicating to her guests that they were expected to leave.

Anthony’s expression was complicated. “But… I’m here to bring you back.” He stood up dazedly, his advisor standing up as well, having stayed thoughtfully silent the entire conversation. Iris became guiding them towards the door.

“I know, and thank you. I’ll take tonight to pack my things. Just send a carriage to pick me up in the morning.”

“But… Theodora…” He was obviously calling her, and Iris interrupted him, frowning.

“Just call me Iris. I grew up with the name, and it will be too confusing with two Theodoras running around the castle.”

Anthony grabbed her hand. “But it’s your name. Our mother gave it to you.”

“And someone stole it from me, gave it to someone else and dropped me in the slums to die.” Her tone was dry, but Anthony winced as if she had struck him, letting go of her. “Just call me Iris. It’s easier.”

“Okay… Iris.”

“Good, now goodbye for now. Enjoy the party.”

With that she pushed them out of the door, closing and locking it behind them. She put her back against the wooden panels, ignoring the rough grain digging into her skin, and froze for an unknown amount of time. Slowly, she made her way back to her table, turning down the magical lamps to save fuel, cleaning up the used cups and tea pot, before sitting down and putting her head in her hands.

She was a princess.

Perhaps if anyone else had heard the news, especially someone who had been living in the slums, they would be ecstatic. It was a path forward full of opportunities, a chance to completely change her difficult, cold and lonely life.

But Iris was not excited.

Not that she didn’t want change. She hated her current life, the dangers, the struggle to get by, the constant wariness to protect herself. She was not indifferent to finding her family, either. She had longed for family affection her entire life. The old woman who raised her did so mostly to have someone to run errands for her. There was very little affection between them. To have a father and brothers who would care about her… it was a dream come true…

And unfortunately for her, it was a dream come true.

Every year since she was ten years old, she had had recurring dreams. Odd strange, vibrant dreams. Visions that sometimes seemed more real than the world around her, vividly remembered when she woke up in the morning. At least once a month, sometimes with more frequency, but always in a similar theme.

In her dreams, she lived in another world. A different life, filled with technology and science rather than magic. Of elections and leaders rather than royalty. And in this world she was still called Iris, but was an actress. She participated in many television shows and movies, had a moderate amount of fame, and many fans to cheer her on. But the project she was embroiled in, was a complex plot about a magical realm. Her character was a young woman, a princess who had been separated from birth from her family. She grew up on the streets until her eighteenth birthday at which time she was found and returned home.

An interesting, dramatic story. There was just one problem:

Her character wasn’t the heroine.

She was the villain.

Or one of the villains. Not even the main threat to the hero and heroine. She returned to the palace, only to find a replacement her family loved dearly in her spot. Filled with jealousy and spite, she spent most of her time trying to set traps for the woman who took her place, only to have each and every plot go wrong. The woman she hated escaped time and time again, and slowly, her father the king and her brothers grew weary of her trouble, sending her overseas to be married to an old and perverted foreign king. They had thought she would be married to one of his sons, but didn’t spend enough time or effort to show her importance to the royal family. Coveting her beauty, the old king took her into his harem.

She jumped off the roof of the palace on the night of her wedding. None of her family knew of or mourned her loss.

The heroine, the girl who had grown up as the princess she was meant to be, thrived under the love and care of the king and princes. She ended up marrying a neighboring prince, the fiancé that had been promised since birth, a man who Iris’ character had also fallen in love with, but failed at all attempts to get close.

Most of her dreams centered around the filming of this project.

Iris had always been confused by these dreams, convinced it just a strange experience that meant nothing, until one year ago, when she heard a story teller in a tavern talking about the royal family:

The crown prince Dominic. The second born prince Anthony. The princess Theodora.

All names she knew very well.

The characters in the story her dream-self acted in.

And the more she pondered this, the clearer it became. Her age, her features, the distinctive birthmark… Iris remembered having the make up artist draw it on below her ear in her dream, but she didn’t need make up in the waking world. She had the birth mark, a clear small star, since she was a child. A mark that meant something horrible:

She was the lost princess.

She was the villainess, doomed to be hated, to be sent away and kill herself in despair.

Over the last year she paid close attention to her dreams, writing down what she remembered, trying to understand the story of her possible future. Even as she prepared, she hoped, deep in her heart, that her dreams were wrong. That they were a strange delusion, a mix of stories of the royal family and facts about herself, combined in her sleeping brain. Maybe it was just what she had thought it was before: a peculiar dream.

Until her eighteenth birthday arrived.

And Prince Anthony arrived with it, right on schedule.

She stared down at her clenched fists, as the multicolored streamers hung around her, a cake sitting coldly in front of her, the icing starting to melt, and sighed.

She was unsure why she had been given these dreams, this warning of her future.

But she did understand one thing:

She would not suffer the same fate as the character Iris had played in her dreams.

_____________________________________________

Prince Anthony sat in his carriage, traveling back to the palace. He leaned back against the cushions, his eyes closed, his brow furrowed. As they drew closer to home, he finally spoke up, breaking the tense silence.

“Gareld… did I do something wrong?”

“Your Highness?”

Anthony opened his eyes, a confused light in the dark pupils. “I thought she would be excited to learn she had family. All the information about her… her struggles to survive by selling flowers… with no one to help her… I thought she would leap at the chance to go home.”

“She didn’t seem UNHAPPY, sir.”

“But she wasn’t happy, either.” He sighed, twisting a ring on his right hand. “Should I not have brought up Theodora?”

Gareld shook his head. “It’s not like you could have avoided it. Better she know now then find out at the palace.”

“I know it’s not her fault… she’s a victim too. So, she shouldn’t blame Theodora, right? But why do I feel so guilty?”

“Princess Theodora and Princess Iris were both the subject of this malicious swap… but Princess Theodora grew up loved and cherished, a princess where she may not have enjoyed such luxury before, but Princess Iris… She has suffered more.” Gereld hesitated. “Besides, your father and Prince Dominic have not determined how to settle Princess Theodora’s identity. If they fully restore Princess Iris to her place, that will cause many issues for Theodora, not excluding her marriage arrangement to Prince Greyson. If you had brought Princess Iris to the party tonight… they may have made a rash decision to protect Princess Theodora, even at the cost of your new sister.”

“I almost caused her harm, didn’t I?”

“Not intentionally, Your Highness.”

“I just wanted to bring her home.” Anthony whispered, feeling pain in his heart and her bland, cold expression when facing him. “Why is it so complicated?”

“You father and brother will figure things out. I would just focus on making your sister feel welcome. It will be a difficult transition, no matter what.”

Anthony seemed to come to a determination, an excited light in his eye. “All right then! I’ll make sure she’s taken care of! Let’s go make sure Iris’s room and servants are arranged properly!”

Gareld looked confused. “What about Princess Theodora’s party?”

“I already gave her my gift, she’ll understand. There are hundreds of people there. But my sister… she doesn’t have anyone. I need to make sure she’s welcomed!”

_____________________________________________

Iris ate a piece of the cake her brother had left, enjoying the high-quality treat. It reminded her of the cakes in her dream. There had a been a special bakery she had gone to, usually on her birthday. She had to sneak there, her agent and personal trainer strictly forbid sweets. She had not had the chance to taste such delicious things in this world, though, her money was better spent on things for survival.

After she finished, she made her way to her room, opening a secret panel behind her bed. Her home was small, and even smaller after she built a secret compartment in the back. But it had been worth it, to keep her secrets safe. As she entered the room, she was surrounded by flowers. Hundreds of colorful bright flowers, each in the state of perfect bloom. On the wall, small pots of herbs grew heartily, their grassy scent combining with the sweet smell of the flowers.

Her first advantage was knowing her story, and with that came certain benefits.

Like knowing she had magical abilities solely available to royal blood. In the story, one of the reasons the king brought Iris back was that he needed to use her gifts, which included the ability to grow plants in any environment. She had agreed readily in the story, hoping to earn her father’s affection by aiding him. Unfortunately for her, her usefulness did not outweigh her shortcomings, as she targeted Theodora again and again. And the king chose to abandon her with little hesitation.

Iris frowned, feeling a stabbing pain in her heart. She thought she had come to peace with her knowledge of the future. However, at the thought of the father she had never met, a strong desire for family affection and love still rose within her. She firmly pushed it down, focusing on the room around her.

Once she suspected the reality of the dream, she had used the knowledge of the story to tap into her royal magic. There was still strict limits on her abilities, mostly by the seeds she had access too and the space she had to grow, but it allowed her to sell fresh, beautiful flowers, even in the midst of winter.  

The herbs had proved useful as well.

She carefully packed a few small choice plants and seeds, only carrying a tiny fraction of the room within. She wasn’t ready to reveal her knowledge of her abilities just yet. The more she knew, and the less they knew, the better.

Iris packed the remainder of her belongings, fitting everything into two small bags. She then laid down, and prepared to rest.

Tomorrow she would see her family, and the heroine of this story, Theodora.

She was ready.

_____________________________________________

As promised by Anthony, a royal carriage arrived in the morning to pick her up. She handed her bags to the footman and prepared to step in, only to pause at the sight of a hand reaching out to help her in to the carriage.

Surprised, she saw Anthony’s grinning face and took his hand, letting him help her to the seat across from him. “Why are you here?”

“I can’t let my little sister come home alone, can I?”

He spent the ride to the palace chattering in a cheerful tone about the arrangements he had done to set up her living space. Iris listened in somewhat of a daze, feeling unsure.

Iris had not been arranged living quarters in the story. In fact, that was the source of one of the early conflicts between the heroine and the villainess. Iris had been mentally preparing for that confrontation… only to find out the story had already changed.

Did delaying my arrival to the next morning already change things so much? It both relieved Iris to know she COULD change things, and terrified her about whether she SHOULD. Her advantage was based mainly in her knowledge of the story, but if that changed… she would be on her own.

“Are you okay?” Anthony noticed her distraction, pausing in his descriptions to check in with her.

Iris smiled at him, the first genuine smile she had given him since his arrival on her birthday. “I’ll be okay.” And I will. My goal is to get a different ending for myself. A better ending. And the only way to do that is to change things. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. This is a good start.

She looked out the window, unaware that her brother had frozen in shock at the sight of her bright smile. When she smiled like that, her eyes lit up, and she looked just liked their mother. He cheered himself on, glad he had chosen to spend time arranging for her arrival.

As the carriage came to a stop, Anthony helped her down from the carriage, leading her in excitedly towards the royal quarters. As he entered a central sitting room, he called out:

“Father! Dominic! I brought her!”

Two men in the room stood up at his words, turning to look at Iris.

And iris studied them as well.

Tall, handsome, with light hair and grey eyes, they looked very different from her, who resembled their mother with her red hair and more delicate features. Anthony pointed at them, and grinned to Iris.

“This is your father, and your oldest brother!”

The older of the two stepped forward, a solemn look on his lined face.

“Theodora, you’ve returned.”

At his words, a beautiful young woman who was sitting on a nearby couch stood up, her lightly curled blond locks swaying behind her. She reached forward, grabbing the King’s hand with a brave smile.

“Silly me, I almost thought you were talking to me, Father! But of course you are talking to your real daughter.” She turned to Iris with a tearful expression. “Sister, I must beg for your forgiveness! Even though I am a victim of this switch as well, and have lost my blood relatives, I have grown up with father and brothers, who have treated me well. You deserve to take everything, it should have been yours from the start!” She began to cry, while Iris watched on.

Good tears, nice volume, angles her face well to take advantage of the shape and appear more remorseful.  

As someone who had lived years inside her dreams as a professional actress, however, it was too fake.

Iris recognized this scene, although the setting was different. It was the meeting between Theodora the heroine and Iris the villainess.

_____________________________________________

“Scene 4, Take 2. ACTION!”

CLACK!

Theodora stepped closer, tears still running down her face. “Sister, I can never repay what you have lost, but first, I will give you back your name. I have held it for too long!” She sobbed prettily into her hands. “I don’t know what I’ll go by… but you can be Theodora… the real Theodora from now on!”

“Wait!” The King spoke up, patting Theodora gently on the head. “Let’s not be too hasty. We have been calling Theodora by this name for eighteen years. It would be silly to change things now.”

Theodora smiled at him, but then cast a worried glance at Iris, as if afraid of her anger. “But what should we call sister then?”

“My name is…”

“Let’s call her Dora.” Dominic spoke up, interrupting his sister’s words. “We shorten Theodora’s name to Theo sometimes, so Dora would be the most appropriate.”

She stared at her family with growing rage. “Theodora is MY name! Why can’t I be called by MY NAME? Why does this… this… FAKE… get to keep MY NAME!”

Theodora broke down. “I knew sister hates me! I should leave the palace! I’ll just make her sadder if I stay!”

Anthony stepped in. “Of course you’re not leaving! You’re our sister no matter what!” He turned to his sister. “Apologize to Theodora… Dora!”

“CUT!”

_____________________________________________

Iris looked up, just in time to see Theodora step closer, right on cue. “Sister, I can never repay what you have lost, but first, I will give you back your name…”

“No, that’s okay, you keep it. I’ll just go by Iris.” Iris interrupted her, bringing up a gentle, kind smile. Using her memories of acting, she looked at Theodora as if looking a loved family member. “I know you must be uncomfortable, with me showing up out of nowhere. You have been with my father and brothers all these years, taking care of them when I couldn’t. I must thank you, dear Theodora. I couldn’t possibly take your name!”

“…What?” Theodora forgot to keep pretending to cry, staring at Iris with consternation.

“It’s nice to see you are a sensible girl.” The King spoke up, smiling approvingly at them both. “We will refer to you as Iris. Welcome home!”

“We’ll need to settle their identities.” Dominic looked at Iris cautiously, his eyes calculating. “After all, Theodora has publicly been the princess for the last eighteen years.”

Iris smiled. “I will follow whatever you and father think is best.”

Before Dominic could speak again, Anthony jumped in. “Let’s discuss it later. Iris has to see her new rooms!” Ignoring any awkwardness, he grabbed Iris’ hand and pulled her further into the palace.

Iris turned and smiled at the three as she was led away. She especially enjoyed Theodora’s annoyed face, before she quickly gained control of her expression.

Alright, first confrontation is a point for me. Only a few hundred more to go. She turned back to her brother who led her away, feeling warm. I don’t know why he’s different… but I’m glad he is.

As she was about to speak up to thank him, however, Anthony came to a sudden halt, causing her to crash into his back.

“Ouch!” She grabbed her nose which had been the main point of impact, her eyes tearing from the blow, and looked past her brother at the point of obstruction.

“Mage Vicente! What brings you to the palace?” Anthony seemed confused, but not nervous.

The man who blocked them looked at them both with a calm smile. He was a young man, good looking enough to make even Iris who had memories of working with multiple top-level actors take notice. His hair was covered under a hood, a large cloak covering most of his tall form, but his eyes, a bright green color, were filled with a knowledge that made whoever looked in them nervous.

Iris stared at him, confused.

There was no mention of a Mage Vincente in the story in her dreams.

Who is this? A very minor character?  Iris felt she would have remembered him.

“I was just here to confirm something.” Vincente studied Iris carefully, then nodded. “Welcome back, Your Highness.”

Iris felt like his words had a deeper meaning, but was unsure of what it could be.

“It was Vincente whose magic confirmed that you were the true princess, Iris!” Anthony spoke up.

“I see.” Iris was more confused than ever, made worse by the fact that he seemed very familiar… but she couldn’t remember from where. “Thank you, sir.”

“My pleasure, Iris.” He bowed solemnly, but his eyes seemed… amused… more than anything. Without another word, he walked away, his robe swaying with his wide steps.

“Don’t mind him, Iris. All mages are a bit odd.”

“Odd…” Iris watched the man’s leaving back. “That seems to be the right word for it.”

They arrived at her rooms, which were carefully decorated and filled with beautiful furniture, jewelry, makeup and clothes. Anthony showed her around the room, pointing with glee at the different choices he had made.

“I don’t know if the gowns will fit, so I’ll have the dressmaker stop by later today to help fit you! Hopefully these will be a good start!” He grinned at her, and Iris smiled back.

“Thank you… Brother.” She stepped forward, giving him a cautious hug. Anthony hugged her tightly back, blinking back tears.

“Welcome home!” After a few more words he left, and Iris was alone.

She looked around the rooms, overwhelmed.

The story is already so different. My brother, these rooms, the meeting… the mage.”

She remembered vividly the scene of her character jumping to her death in a foreign land.

“Not different enough.” She muttered.

She would change the story completely.

This… was just the start.

You are a poor girl selling flowers. Today is your birthday but no one knows. When you return home you find the prince of the kingdom waiting for you with a birthday cake. "Are you sure this is the one?" He whispers to his advisor.

[maroonpascal]

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: you’re bored at home and you prepare a little surprise for your man

Warnings: 18+ smut, MDNI, age gap, no outbreak!au, soft!joel, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), swearing, spanking, coming untouched, cursing, use of pet names (my girl, babe, babygirl, angel, my love, good girl, princess), use of “slut” (just once)

The only one you’ve ever been with and then only one you would want to be with for the rest of your life; no one knows you as much as he does, your favourite clothes, favourite drink and favourite… positions.

You came home earlier that day, and after a shower you decided to put on the blue lingerie, Joel’s favourite. Because If he knows what your favourite things are, well you definitely know his. A glance at the mirror as you’re clipping the thighs to the blue laced garter belt, and everything looks in place, biting a bit your lip thinking of how that set is gonna be stripped off of you as soon as he will set foot inside the house; it’s not that cold, so you just grab one of his plaid shirts and wear it buttoning it up, leaving though the last buttons open, part of your chest visible with a shadow of the blue lace under. You try to do everything to keep yourself occupied, but having prepared that way for him already got yourself aroused at the thought of what is gonna happen when he’s gonna see you in that tempting set; and there it is, feeling becoming already wet, not daring to touch yourself but closing your legs as you’re on the couch, trying to read but everything you can see on the pages are the words that are gonna fall from Joel’s lips. You check your phone, shouldn’t be too long before he’s gonna be home but that wait is already driving you crazy, more than once having to stop your hand from going down.

You get a tingle when you hear the keys at the door, closing your eyes for a moment and breathing deeply, trying to look composed and not like you had just slipped your hand down your panties, the book ending on the floor.

You hear the water rushing in the kitchen, Joel washing his hands, and then the steps leading to the living room. And there he is, looking effortlessly beautiful in the light of the dying day, silver hair shining and his eyes catching you there on the couch.

“Hey, how’s ma’ girl?”, his deep voice reaches you, his look softening as he sees you in that shirt of his, kissing you already on your lips, beard tickling you. “Good, you see something familiar on me?” You already tease, and the fact that he has no idea of the set makes you even more aroused.

“I see it,” he beams, a hand touching the hem of the shirt, “Looks better on you than me.”, his fingers go up, lingering on the thigh, covered by the black thighs. He goes upper, gasping when he comes in contact with the surprise that you got him. His eyes goes down, rising upper the shirt and revealing the little blue stripes clipped to the thighs, “Oh what you got here, babe?”, he asks the rhetoric question, you smirking up at him, “Find it yourself, I think you’re gonna like it.”

He smiles, you laying back on the couch, letting him start opening the buttons of that shirt. He does it with an almost painful slowness, taking in every inch of your skin that he is letting uncover, starting from the top and a low moan leaves his lips at the sight of that blue lace bra, hugging your shapes perfectly; your heart races when you feel his hand landing on the centre of your chest, smoothing it then on both your breasts, his other hand working on the rest of the buttons. His hands leave your body for a moment when the buttons are all undone, that set shimmering under the orange light of the dying day, and you see that light that you know far too well in his eyes, that light he has when he’s thinking about all the things that he could do to you.

“Fuck, look at you, takin’ all my breath away.” He lets out, you smiling knowing the power that you have on him, that power to bring him to his damn knees whenever you want to, because there isn’t anything that he’s as happy to do in his life as pleasing you in all the ways he can.

His hands smooth on your shoulders, under the shirt, making it fall so that now you have nothing but that set on you, oh and the set of thighs, which he unclips, hands grabbing your skin as he pushes them down.

You widen a bit your legs, while caressing yourself on your chest, and he takes off the jacket, remaining with another plaid shirt of his, before setting himself between your legs, the contrast between your bare skin and his clothes, jeans grinding on your delicate skin. You pull him in a kiss, hand going behind his head, getting lost in those curls, keeping him closer as he pushes his hips against you; you can feel his excitement, moving your hips back, creating a nice friction between you both. Joel leaves your lips, now going lower, hands cupping your breasts, and lips tracing them; he takes your left nipple visible under that lace between his fingertips, pinching it and you moan at that, the little pain already igniting all your senses. His kisses get lower, hands shaping your body, until he reaches the garter and pulls it down, now his look only on that lace that is barely covering you.

You see his expression changing though, and that is when you know that he’s noticed the visible wet stain on the tissue.

A hand goes directly cupping you there, your cunt twitching at that, “Touched yourself before I came home?” he starts, pushing the panties aside and looking at the tissue, and you don’t even have to answer, it is all there. You bite your bottom lip, and there isn’t even a reason to not look guilty, you wouldn’t even know how to not to, it is written all over your face, and your panties too.

“Babygirl couldn’t wait a little longer, already thinkin’ about the way I would have fucked you in this set?” His low deep voice reaches you, as you’re just able to swallow your saliva, in trepidation for what it is gonna entail. Well, you already know.

And you can't wait for that.

“Yes,” you challenge him, Joel not expecting you to answer, stopping his touching on you, you getting a little up on your elbows, “Couldn’t think about anything else, but you.” Your seductive voice feels like honey to him, but it’s not gonna sugarcoat what is gonna happen next.

“Ain’t you a little slut.” Words that are followed by a little but firm slap on your cunt, you moving your hips to that, desperate for that touch. You don’t even flinch, you just look like that’s what you really want.

“You know what to do know.” He instructs, and you twirl your hair still smiling, knowing that it is driving him crazy how you enjoy so much what is gonna happen next; you turn, elbows on the couch, knees well pointed on the couch, and ass up.

“Attagirl.” He satisfyingly says, you feeling the rough jeans on the back of your thighs, brushing on your skin. A hand goes up on your back, reaching the back of your neck, then going lower again, moulding that skin under his palm, you relaxing at that touch that you know so well, and knowing what is coming when the hand goes to cup your cheek, playing with it before a spank is delivered to it.

You whimper lightly at the sudden contact, and you would love to touch yourself to that, but you keep your hands where they are, learning the lesson (you know that you’re gonna break it other hundred times to end up in that position).

A second hit is delivered to the left cheek, the contact being followed by his calloused hands sprawling on your ass, massaging it and you feel his lips kissing each cheek, that tenderness such a contrast to the firmness he delivered those spanks with.

“Can my girl take a couple more?” you feel his voice on your skin, there on your hip, kisses all over your skin and you nod. He sees you nodding but he taps the hip with his finger anyway, “Need to hear it, babe.”

You take a big breath, “Yes, I can.” You say firmly, lips brushing more on your hips and then on your ass, “Good girl.”

The third one lands on your skin, firm as you like it, and as strong as his hand can deliver, a hand immediately massaging it. He likes doing that, but you know how much he’s always careful to not hurt you too much, always giving you breaks to prepare for the next one and you think that contrast in him is probably the thing that you love the most. You’re lost in these thoughts when the next one hit, you whimpering a little more just because of how your mind had wandered.

The familiar tender touch goes to mend the hit, soft as if that hand hadn't just spanked you.

He spreads a bit further your knees, and a hand goes again over the centre of your panties, that cold wetness sticking in the panties even more than before, now even more aroused after that spanking.

“Last one.” To which you respond with a loud yes, and where it gets delivered leaves you without breath.

His hand has landed right in the centre, on your cunt, the obscene sound of the wetness filling the room, pain igniting you even more. “Fuck.” You cry, legs almost shaking, his hand going to cup that centre, that wet tissue under his palm, and you almost squirm, trying to catch your breath.

The panties get pushed to one side, “Oh fuck me.” He exhales seeing how wet you are, dripping for him and him only.

“Like what you see?” You tease him once you got your breath back, and all you get in response is his finger going between your slick folds, dividing them, a knuckle pushing against that wetness.

Thumbs go spreading you even more open, the cold air hitting you, but it is soon replaced by his breathing, “So much, you can’t even imagine it.” He lets out before diving in you, lips kissing you there and you moan loudly, arching more your back and so you’re spreading even more your legs for him. He licks and kisses, then brushing his finger on you, touching you almost delicately until he reaches your clit, fingertip pressing there and circling it as he goes back to make love to you with his mouth, obscene kisses being left there. A high pitched scream leaves your lips when he presses his tongue into you, warm and wet, shutting your eyes at that pleasure. He twirls his tongue, as you push your hips even further, the stimulation already sending you over the edge; the shape of his nose brushes on you as he goes deeper, and it’s all so much, your heartbeat racing.

Fingers trace from your clit to your soft plush, his lips leaving you as he takes back his breath, letting his fingers moving over you, but still not inside you. And you want that, you want it so much and so desperately, that you don’t even realise you just said it out loud.

“What’s that my princess need?” He lavishly asks, his voice so much deeper, his other hand brushing on your back; “Repeat it, babe.” He insists, seeing how you’re just muffling those words against a pillow of the couch.

“Want your… your fingers.” You whimper, trying to keep up your knees, even though they’re so close to give up, too much pleasure that you could just collapse on the cushions below.

“Be more specific.” He repeats, a light spank on your left cheek, you hissing at that and your body responding by getting even more wet, if possible.

“I want your fingers inside me.” You then cry, hands grabbing that damn pillow for dear life, and you can feel Joel smirking on your back, before leaving a kiss on the small of your back.

That is how he’s slowly pushing a fingertip inside of you, stretching you and slicking in so perfectly that it lets out a moan out of him, pushing until his knuckle and then almost getting it all out before pushing all back in again. A slow but deep pace is built, a second finger getting pushed in, your folds welcoming it so well; that is when your knees start to tremble though and so, lost in the whole pleasure, mind fogged by it, you search for the words to tell him that you want to lay down. Nothing is gonna happen if you did it without asking, but you just want to make him aware of that.

“Joel, I- I need to-”

You don’t even get to finish your phrase that he’s gently holding your hips and guiding them down, then brushing the back of his hands on the back of your legs; you breathe deeply, letting your body relax, before you can see him kneeling next to your face, kissing your forehead carefully, brushing your hair back, “Thank you.” You breathe, him nodding, his features bathed in that sunlight.

Your hand reaches his beard, him kissing your palm and holding it in his, brushing his thumb over it; your hand is so small compared to his, beard tickling your palm, making you smile.

The way he looks at you, the full adoration in his eyes that makes your heart flutter and your cunt twitching as you have been postponing your orgasm.

“I still want to come for you.” You utter, killing the distance between your lips, kissing him, and biting lightly his bottom lip, your taste still there, trapped on his lips and on that silverish beard.

“Turn around for me then, angel.” And you do as asked, laying with your back against the couch, your back thanking you, and you already widen your legs for him again; panties get pushed down and end up on the floor, Joel taking in the sight of those folds slicked and your cunt getting swollen, waiting to be touched and kissed again, only to finally rose.

“Alright, so where were we?” He jokingly asks, making you giggle, as he’s getting settled between your legs, laying too on the couch.

“I think that you were eating me out so good that you brought me to my knees.” And Joel loves how you got your breath back, he loves how you respond to him, how you hold your own and challenge him.

“ ’m gonna start again from that, then.” He devilishly smiles as you see his head disappearing down there, letting out a moan when you feel again that tongue on you, now caressing directly your clit, arms going under your thighs and then anchoring his hands over them, guiding them open as much as he likes to.

You thank him mentally for that, because your first impulse was to close your legs, shying away from that touch, almost denying yourself of that pleasure that is gonna make you explode real soon. Your hand reaches his, him responding by intertwining his fingers to yours, that touch being as intimate as his tongue pushing once again inside you, letting out of you a high pitched cry.

You can’t help but let the other hand reach his dust silvered hair, letting it get lost in it, soft under your fingers and when you look down it is quite a view, seeing him there between your legs; that is when he rises up a bit his head, still working on you with his tongue, and locks his gaze with yours, you melting under that look, seeing his nose with a stain shining on it, just like his moustache looks shinier with your pleasure on it. It’s outrageous and beautiful at the same time, his tongue not giving signs of leaving your clit until you’re gonna cum over it, sounds filling the room, the light outside leaving the place for the incoming darkness.

You shiver at the way the beard brushes on the inside of your thighs, knowing that they’re gonna need some soothing cream after all of this, but it’s all worth it.

Pleasure is building more and more inside of you, still trying to postpone your orgasm, never wanting all of that to ever end. You would want him eating you out for even the whole night, knowing that Joel would give it all to you, no questions asked.

He’s breathing you all in, in fact, enjoying all of that and brushing his hips against the couch, the desperate need for some contact to ease his aching length, to give himself that release that he has been postponing, just like you’re doing with yours, because actually at the moment only your pleasure exists and he can endure that, this is all about you.

Juices have wetted his beard and all his chin, him swallowing everything that you can give to him, and he gets pleasure from that.

It’s when he’s sucking on your clit, almost ravenous, that your body can’t take it anymore and you know that you can’t hold it no more.

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you repeat his name like a mantra, like it is all that you know, the only word that your mouth can pronounce, all your vocabulary having been reduced to just one name.

“Give it all to me, baby.” He encourages you, his voice so fucking deep that you start orgasming already that, keeping it going once he places his lips over your clit again, kissing it messily, tongue making you an even worse mess. Your moans are loud, riding that pleasure, your body igniting like it’s being shocked, shaking under that touch and all your pleasure filling his mouth, those damn lips making you scream, arching your back and seeing fucking stars behind your shut eyelids.

A series of bad words leave your lips, biting your own hand and your legs shaking uncontrollably, chest going up and down so fast, heart in your neck, your ears, pulsing everywhere.

And Joel lets his head collapse on your hip, thrusting once again against the couch and finally releasing, coming untouched and with all his clothes on, such is your power on him.

You feel light pecks all over your hips, leaving wet traces, then on your tummy and upper on your chest, finally reaching then your lips and you kiss him with so much passion, both your hands cupping his face, melting in that kiss and in that tenderness that he’s giving you.

He leaves your lips to leave a kiss on the tip of your nose, making you smile softly, his adoring eyes taking in your relaxed face and reddened cheeks.

“I love you so much.” He lets out, brushing your hair behind your ear, and your heart explode even more than before, always getting the same feeling when he pronounces those words.

“I love you too.” You exhale and you let him place his head on your chest, him laying his weight on you, brushing a hand in his hair.

“God, your heartbeat, is that all for me?” He says, brushing his hand on your left part of the chest, still that bra on you.

“Yes, all for you my love.” Words fall from your lips like the most expensive velvet and you adore how he takes in every single detail of you.

“Uhm, Joel… did you come or should I do something…” you leave the words hanging , having embraced him in a hug, breaking those moments of silence that had followed your orgasm.

You see him rising himself on his arms.

“Babygirl, you got your ol’ man coming in his clothes.”

And you try so hard to not laugh, but you inevitably burst out laughing anyway, laugh reverberating the living room, him chuckling too and soon you’re both laughin, high in that post orgasm haze, seeing him duck his head; Joel goes to hide his face on the crook of your neck, still laughing and you couldn’t be more in love with him, with this man whose laugh is the most beautiful sound in the whole world, this man that if he could would give the whole world to you.

[thesharktanksdriver]

Magical girl y/n christmas canons?

Tinsel, magic and hot chocolate (platonic)

Sorry I released this after Christmas i have written so much that there’s a huge delay whenever I type on this on this

Christmas headcanons babyyyyyyyyy let’s goooooooo

Anyways Merry late Christmas

Masterlist

Christmas wasn’t much of an occasion for you before you were adopted by billionaire philanthropist playboy Bruce/Brucie Wayne

When you lived on your own Christmas was a luxury you could hardly afford to yourself

Maybe if you had a few crumpled dollars saved in the back of your pocket you’d splurge on a hot chocolate at a stand somewhere

Or you’d have a second cup of instant ramen

But besides that there wasn’t much to celebrate besides the fact that with Christmas came winter and that brought the cold

The old apartment you had didn’t have much heating on account of the busted windows, decaying door and fluctuating power

So winter had alway been a life or death scenario every year

The fear of going to sleep and simply not waking up had been to prevalent to enjoy winter

Snow and ice loosing their beauty in the face of the real potential of dying

You couldn’t appreciate the leisure of affording skates to glide across the ice, of dancing and sliding with family or friends at a rink

Couldn’t come to see the beauty in the snow glimmering like thousands of diamonds under sunlight, of laying in its soft cushioning to make snow angels or snowman’s

Before all of this you couldn’t

Not when you had to survive not only for your own sake

But for the sake of your universe at large

Because if you died the shadowmites would eat and destroy everything

Everyone

All the happy families that pass you by on the street as you adjusted a ratty falling apart hand woven scarf would die

As would the kind older vendor who gave soup out to all the unfortunate during the season

The man who dressed as Santa to bring joy despite the fact that the kids in the shitty parts of Gotham didn’t Believe anymore

A store clerk who slips an extra candy cane in your bag when your not looking as a small surprise

The hero’s of the city who worked perilously on the holidays

For the villains you somehow gained the affection of

Croc in the sewers who lets you sit down on your breaks by the heater you’d dug up from the trash, a gift from last year he treasures for both its practicality and sentimentality

Mr Penguin who gives you the extra food from his Christmas banquet you’re invited to, the way in which he may or may not have tried to insist you take a fur coat a customer “conveniently” left behind with the tag still attached

Ivy and Harley who make you scarves and mitts they knitted by hand, the fun brightly coloured yarn held together by love and dedication that helps you get through the winter’s harsh nights

Mr freeze who seems content this season to have some company in his loneliness if even for a few minutes, and though you can’t appreciate the cold like he can due to its threat to your well being you can appreciate the beauty of Gotham blanketed in glistening snow instead of the dreary smog

Riddler who gifts you a bright green wrapped present that is opened with a riddle, inside being a few books that be personally thought were good

Catwoman who ends up gifting you a large throw blanket with a kitschy picture of a cat that helped you survive the long cold nights

But this is all before your adoption

After, it’s much different

Decorating

Christmas at the Wayne’s and winter all together now is a much different experience

For one the decorations

The most you could do was a small little Charlie Brown tree, you’d decorate them with the little bootleg magical girl figure you got from thrift stores or dollarama’s

But somehow Alfred on the first day of December had the entire manor furnished

Garlands lining the walls with Christmas lights and ornaments hanging off them that shine in the warm lighting of chandeliers

Statues and figurines of Santa and his elves on tables, poinsettia’s in the decorative vases dotting the halls

A massive fresh cut Christmas tree hang up in the main living room, the fireplace lit nearby with stockings hung up on the mantelpiece

Each giant sock individualized in different colours and hand stitched with the occupants names

Bruce’s is midnight black, Dick’s is a light blue, Jason’s a traditional bright red, Tim’s a pretty Maroon , Damien’s a forest green, etc

Yours how hangs there as well, your favourite colour in velvet and your name etched in pretty cursive in sparkly thread

The scent of fresh baked cookies and gingerbread wafting from the kitchen whilst pine and cinnamon linger elsewhere

Eventually you’ll even help Alfred in decorating your room to watch with the Christmas decorations of the entire manor

Helping him hang crystal snowflakes that create rainbow infractions from sunlight streaming in from your window, little reindeer figures being added to your bedside

Maybe even a Christmas hat placed atop one of your plushies

Alfred, according to the rest of the manor residents goes ham for all holidays

Christmas, Halloween, Easter, birthdays, Valentine’s Day, Father’s Day, you name it and he has an entire garages worth of decorations neatly stored away in boxes that he’ll somehow unpack overnight and have half the manor done within 5 hours

A feat truly unprecedented consider this place was a maze of hallways with at least 150 rooms that you’d counted so far

All of which were decorated in some sort of Christmas attire or theme

One was Santa themed, another Christmas tree themed, the one down the hall somewhere was frosty the snow man and a different one was filled with memorabilia from the old stop motion Rudolph films

Somehow them the British man was able to get his hands on some of the spare genuine figures used for that film (and the other ones from the sequels)

All of which now have a correlating Wayne manor resident

Alfred of course is Sam the snow man from that film, umbrella and bowler hat going all too well with him

Apparently when Jason was younger he begged for his to be Rudolph, a fact Bruce nor Dick ever let him live down

At some point during the first weeks of December the entire family gathers to decorate the tree

Quite honestly you thought you’d just hang out in your room while that happened since you had no idea what to really do

Your tiny “tree” didn’t have any traditional ornaments, only your figurines

But not even two minutes after the decorating supposedly started Damien basically kicked down your door with Jason and dragged you to join the tree decorating

Turns out no one can escape this fate

And they all refused to start without you, especially since this would “be your first year to witness the decoration war”

You quickly learn what that means when half the family is arguing on what colour scheme the tree should have

It’s basically an all out war while your sitting beside Damien who looks on

By the end of it all red and gold wins by a smidge

Mostly due to the fact Alfred got accidentally friendly fired by Dick and decided for everyone

You’d never seen Dick so afraid in your life, he looked ready to write his will in that moment

But once that’s finished the decorating actually starts

There’s no real strategy to how they do it

Tim tries to make a plan but it quickly falls through when the others began grabbing random bits and bobbles to hang on the tree

Red and gold balls of glass, old and delicate

Other ornaments of stuffed bears, cups of hot cocoa, a plate of cookies and more

You gravitate mostly towards these ones, the unique ornaments you’d used to see in store displays but could never afford

Ones you’d wish to have but could never hold

The others seem to catch on to this quickly, since they basically give you the box holding them all and hoisting you up to decorate the high points of the tree you couldn’t reach

This almost becomes an argument too when Dick complains that Jason is hogging you

Damien steps in immediately after literally swooping down from nowhere with a grappling hook to take you and bring you to the other side of the tree

All the while stating that once more he’s your favourite sibling

You can’t say he’s wrong when he objectively isn’t

Along with the fact he looks so genuinely happy over the fact

Once the tree is finished all that’s left is the topper

The crowning moment of the tree

With how everyone is looking to you your not surprised when Alfred hands you the crowning piece

They had several out while debating the Christmas tree and one stood out to you

It wasn’t the traditional star, it was a pretty angel

With white feathered wings and flowing brown hair atop a red velvet dress lined in gold

She just stood out to you from the bunch, of course this house full of detectives would notice you gazing at her for 20 minutes admiring the detail

Bruce is the one who lifts you up to place the angel

The only one so far who’d yet to help you reach the top

His hold gentle and stable

Smiling up at you urging you that it’s all alright

That you get to place the most important piece

You can’t help but feel a bit hesitant with all the attention on you on such an important moment

You’d never done something this before

Not for real anyways

You didn’t think topping your dinky tree with the only good figure you had could count

But now your crowning a real Christmas tree

With your family, all of whom look up at you cheering you on

It feels so overwhelmingly nice and cozy

You’d never thought you’d feel this during the season you’d dread

But here you are, lifted to reach atop a giant tree and placing an angel atop it all to look after you all until winter goes

Like the angel you feel the responsibility to drive out all evil forces to protect those in this mansion

The family who cheer loudly when you place her at the top and practically tackle you in a hug when your put back down on the wooden floor

As everyone celebrates you can’t help but look atop the tree

The angel looking down at you whilst Rigel slumbers atop your shoulder

Only being brought back when his nose nudges your cheek, turning your attention to your group of rowdy brothers who beckon you for yet another Christmas activity

Christmas baking

Once upon a time ago many years back you were able to afford a gingerbread house

It was after a few weeks of scrounging for money in wherever you could find it

Spare quarters and loose pennies making up the total of 15 dollars you’d decided to splurge on the cookie house

It didn’t end up looking good but didn’t mind at all, not when you’d feasted on the spare gumdrops that were hard and sour

Or the too sweet icing in a small plastic packet

On Christmas Day you’d eaten the house itself as your gift that year

Dividing it into small pieces to save for later as your future meals and snacks for patrols

Along with sectioning out some for Rigel who insisted you take care of yourself before them

This year though at Wayne manor baking Christmas goods is much less of a luxury and more a constant during the Christmas season

Alfred, you’ve quickly come to learn even before being adopted, was a baking god

That man could bake things you’d think would be served up to the gods on an alter

From his mouth watering cookies to his baked Alaska that nearly made you cry

His skills were no match

And during Christmas he apparently went crazy with baking

Chocolate chip Cookies galore, gingerbread made by hand, candycanes someone made by hand despite the long procedural process of kneading the sugar, sugar cookies with hand made icing that he piped into snowflakes and mini versions of the batfamily

The work he did was no joke

As was his “no one baking but me” policy after everyone else in the family somehow almost set the kitchen on fire

Yeah everyone else in the family was banned after trying to help him one year

Wayne manor nearly burnt down and now only your allowed there with him

Though you guessed that may have also been because he wanted to spend time with you

Something you can’t fault him for since you also like spending time with him as well

Since your new to baking Alfred is a guiding gentle hand

He shows you how to measure out ingredients correctly

Kneed the dough just enough

Pipe icing on cookies

Even let’s you nibble on the spare cookie dough and chocolate chips

Something he makes you keep a secret lest the others in the house get jealous

Throughout all the baking Alfred talks with you about all types of things

He asks you about your Christmases before this

Talks about being in MI6 and raising Bruce

Quietly probes you for Christmas gifts you’d like

Let’s Rigel perch around his shoulders and around his neck like a scarf

It’s all heartwarming and cozy

Especially as he seems so genuinely happy that this year you get to experience a proper Christmas

Not alone in a dingy apartment

But instead surrounded by friends and family

He seems all too proud when your both done with baking and made delectable sweet treats

He seems even more proud when the extra you made end up in containers that you say you’ll hand out to some friends

Thankfully he doesn’t ask when later that night you go out on patrol with a little basket and Christmas cards

He just tells you that if needed he’ll make more

It seems even villains can’t resist his cooking

Especially not with how Croc gobbles down the entire container or how Harley begs for the recipe

Riddler not one for chocolate chip cookies but enjoys the ginger snaps and shortbread cookies you bring instead

Mr.Freeze who quietly thanks you for the sugar cookies made to look like nutcrackers and ballerinas, something he said to you once before that Nora loved during the season

Two face and Harvey seem nostalgic, it makes sense considering Harvey’s friendship with Bruce

He’s been over at Christmas before his decent

When he asks how you have the recipe you just say that an old man asked you to deliver them to him

For the first time in the season you see him melt ever so slightly

He doesn’t need to say thank you, not with how he pats your head and tells you to stay warm

When you go off he hands you one of the cookies

Something you can’t help but smile gleefully at

Later that night you make sure to make extra for the next delivery along with little gingerbread men

All of which are decorated to look like the receivers of the delivery

Ice skating

You’d never learned to skate mostly because you could never afford skates

Public rinks were open during the winter in certain part of Gotham, typically the nicer areas though near crime alley you’d seen a few smaller opens opened up for kids

Though you’d never had the time to go to one

Sure, you could glide across the ice without the needed equipment but it wouldn’t be as fun. And sure, you could technically use your transformation powers to make yourself a pair of skates

But that would be a waste of your limited powers for something so trivial

And it was a skill not typically needed, it’s not like you were fighting Mr freeze on a month to month basis

So you bite your tongue and would continue on when seeing a rink on your way back to your old apartment

Eyes lingering on the families teaching their young ones to skate

To the pretty ice skater dancing as if she were a ballerina

To the group of friends off to the side enjoying a cup of hot cocoa from a small stand nearby

Still too overpriced for you to afford nor enjoy without risk of not affording rent let alone heating

The minute Dick learned this he was already off taking you to a sports supply store and having you try more skates than you’d known existed

From more heavy duty to sleek and petite

He has you try them on

Finding whichever was more comfortable to your feet before you finally settled on a pair

But even after that the shopping wasn’t done

He bought pretty ribbons to replace the laces, skate guards and blade covers

And then off you were suddenly at a rink with him guiding you along the ice

Quite honestly the spectacle of people watching the two of you and awing at the scene is a tad bit embarrassing

But Dicks genuine enthusiasm makes up for it

Though it doesn’t make up for the fact that you’ll be seeing his ass picks later on

Because god, why does he have to give them more fuel to the fire

You’d tried multiple times to get him to stop bending down and hunching over

But he seems to occupied in teaching you to notice the rabid clicks of pictures being taken behind him

Once you get a slow hand of it he takes your gloved hand and lets you take the reigns

Letting you chart the course across the ice

Past equally happy families that have the same smile that he does

Pride gleaming in it like a unyielding fire

Apparently back when he was apart of the circus he sucked at skating he admits

He could do acrobats 20 feet in the air just fine but had two left feet when it came to the ice

His parents never got frustrated though, neither did Bruce

But they one day said that he’d get it if he put his heart into trying again and again each winter

And that he’d be good enough to one day teach someone else as well

He remarks with a smile that it seems they were right

He says this all the while he stared into the overpriced hot chocolate with whip cream

Little green and red sprinkles in his as well as your own cup

Silently you smile and take his hand to go out on the ice once more when he’s finished his drink

You think that Mr and Mrs Grayson would be proud of him

Though you don’t need to say that aloud when his smile says it all

(Unfortunately you we’re right about the ass shots flooding your feed, though it was also mixed with people gushing over how adorable the scene was and how cute you are. You don’t open social media for the next couple of days for various reasons, your bashful expression is poked at by Damien who says he can hunt down the users if you’d like)

Gift shopping

Buying gifts for others was yet another luxury you couldn’t typically afford

So you used to scavenge for things

The heater for croc is a good example

As are the pots you then hand painted for Ivy and Harley

This year though it’s a bit overwhelming as Bruce takes you shopping for gifts

Store after store

His obsidian credit card that he pulled out for nearly everything you so much as dare to look at for over 5 seconds

The guilt that he’s spending his money for you

So far you’d picked out good gifts for everyone else

Even going as far to get some for Titus, your….non law-abiding citizen friends and some for the justice league

But you were still unused to it all without looking at the price tag

Something Bruce all but basically banned you to do and just said to put anything in the cart

And by Anthony he meant anything

You were staring too long at the car displayed in the mall and he nearly took you to a car dealership to buy you one

And then went on about customizing it for your or that persons taste

You sure anyone would like Ferrari but your not quite sure how you’d explain buying one to the receiver

Throughout it all Bruce looks more content than you’d thought he’d be when your spending his money

Sure, he’s a billionaire but typically they like to save and horde money, not freely spend it n frivolous things like this

But it seems Bruce had been the outlier

Maybe he’s always been

You’d gotten to Gotham academy because of his scholarship programs before he knew your existence

Certain parts of Gotham were in better state due to the Wayne corporations work and job listings

The Martha and Thomas Wayne fundraiser each year raised millions in charity

It’s still all so weird

But you have a small moment of clarity when entering a small anime store

Bruce chats up the worker at the counter, pulling out his Brucie persona

And he lets you reign free to buy stuff

You browse the figures, even finding a few you’d like for yourself that your almost 100% sure he’s gonna ask the owner to hold and have Alfred pick up later

But then you get to the dvds section

And in the bottom shelf you find old VHS’s

Your finger grazes across their spines alphabetically

And then it stops on a pretty pink one

It’s old and slightly faded

But you know this one by heart

This was one of your old sailor moon’s VHS’s, the one that you played so much that it eventually stopped working

The box was the only thing left of the thing, there was no use in keeping a messed of tape

So you had to sadly throw it out

The memories flood back of that tape

The episodes you know by heart

The line delivery (a male voice mocks it and brings you to tears)

The cheesy voice acting (something a female voice complained about)

The night spent alone watching it before Rigel came along (the sense of feeling of overwhelming loneliness waiting for someone to come back)

Huh? Your reminded of something?

Your parents, you forgot you even had those at one point

The cold seeps through an broken window past the flimsy sheer curtains

You hear them moving stuff, muttering to themselves quietly as you sit in front of the old box tv

Their voices muffled and static, grating your eardrums in fuzziness

You hum along to moonlight densetsu as sailor moon appears on screen

When she strikes her pose you do so as well, mirroring the action with your pudgy hands

A thump alerts you away from the screen

Two blurred figures, your parents stand by the door

Bags beside them filled to the brim

“We’re going to get groceries, you now how to use the stove” to your 5 year old mind this was normal

You didn’t know someone your age shouldn’t be left alone for hours on end

Shouldn’t be able to use the stove

Shouldn’t look to the tv as your only friend and mentor in keeping you alive

It was sailor moon who taught you to show kindness to others

Mew mew showed you to protect your home

Sakura told you to love others no matter their appearance or gender

Utena proved girls could fight and be just as strong as men

It was Honoka and Nagisa from pretty cure who taught you courage

It was never your parents, it was the reruns and old VHS’s you watched until they couldn’t play anymore and you knew the episodes by heart

You remember those shows so clearly, each episode and line delivery

And yet you couldn’t remember your mom or dad besides the one memory

They were so insignificant in the few years of your life they’d been in

And it’s that night watching sailor moon they left you

Abandoned you in a ratty apartment that they were gonna be kicked out of for not paying their bills

Left you to watch your only good facet in your life

Magical girls

Except now you imagine the memory differently

Your watching your sailor moon but there’s no shuffling in the background

Not the sound of them preparing to leave

Just silence before you feel a presence beside you

Turning your head you see Bruce, sitting beside you

Though now instead of kneeling on the floor your in the private theatre in a comfortable leather chair

The night he surprised you with getting your favourite series to play in it

And even if he didn’t understand the plot or what was going on he watched with a smile

He watched beside you, not once leaving your side

You pick up the old vhs with a nostalgic smile, thumb trailing down the back to read the episode list

The ones you remember by heart

Like by line

You put it back knowing somehow it would end up in your stocking this year

You wonder if the rest of the family would enjoy watching as well even without any context to the show

playing in snow

You used to hate the snow, and ice and all things cold except for Mr freeze and the cheap Dairy Queen Sunday’s you bought in the summer to cool down

But besides that you couldn’t stand it

You could play in the snow without risk of getting sick

Your winter boots already holes and your mitts were falling apart as it was

If you made snow angels or made snowballs you’d be left wet and cold

And there was nothing at the apartment to really dry you

Unless you wanted to waste Rigels magic to do so

And that wasn’t an option when every night you were breaking a rib or snapping your arm again

It seemed during Christmas as well Shadowmites got worse

For the season of giving and love there sure was a lot of hated that they feed off of

And unfortunately you were at the brunt end of it all

They gifted you broken bones and bloody scratches

So if others considered you a Scrooge for not liking the season you had every reason as to why

Not to mention by the end of your fights you were freezing and drenched

An even worse combination when bleeding and stumbling on a broken foot

Ba humbug

So when Jason takes you to go tobogganing your less amused than an average kid should be

To be fair your not exactly and “average kid” with the whole magical girl powers and all

But still, he had expected a bit more enthusiasm and less confusion

Safe to say Jason is a bit like Dick realizing you never learned to skate

Though unlike Dick, Jason can acclimate as to why

Growing up in crime alley was a lot like your own childhood

But back then he had friends, other kids to play with in the snow

He knew what fun it could bring because of that but you didn’t

And he decides to try and fix that

So throwing you your snow boots and zipping up his coat he all but almost drags you out the manor

A sled in hand while Rigel curls up around you like a scarf

His boots thumping through the snow creating satisfying crunches

Wayne manor’s grounds were huge, and unknown to you was that it also had a hill

Like a proper hill hidden behind dead shrubbery and snow covered trees

Something Jason shows off with a proud smile

He sets up the sled as you admire the view

It looks more like something from one of those old 2 million dollar paintings kept in a private collection away from the public

You see Gotham dusted in snow, refracting light creating a diamond-like sheen across the city

Snow falling around framing the entire world

It’s pretty in a way you handy really seen before now took a moment to enjoy

“Hey! Hop on”

Turning around you see Jason on the sled patting the spot in front of him

With a small nod you slid into the spot, settled comfortably between his legs as he wretched his arms past you to grab the reigns

“Ready?”

His eyes shine and you see the faintest tinge of green mixed in blue

You nod grabbing the reigns as well

He smiles and scoots the sleigh to the edge

Letting gravity do the rest

The sleigh starts its descent down the hill, gliding across the snow picking up speed

It’s a bit bumpy

A bit scary

But you hear Jason yell in excitement and your voice joins his in symphony

Before crashing down to the bottom and falling off the sled into the snow nearby with a audible thump

Almost immediately your older brother searches but finds you laying face up in the snow with a smile

A laugh tumbling out your mouth all the while Rigel chitters in a similar manner

Jason flops down beside you

From the hill when you go back down again you see both his and your snow angels side by side

Gift wrapping

You couldn’t wrap for shit, that is something you knew very well when one year you tried

Keyword tried

To wrap up a present for Rigel with scraps of wrapping paper you found in a garbage somewhere

It looked more like a Picasso painting of a wrapped present than a present itself

But unlike wrapping presents you could tie bows

Something Tim couldn’t do

You’d seen him try for 30 minutes and it looked….well it looked bad

It looked like a snake strangled itself to death

Or a noose trying to hang itself

Plane and simple its atrocious

But combining your skills together you both are actually competent

So the two of you decided to team up to create the wrapping league

Even if said league was more like a duo than anything

And was less about end of the world scenarios and moreso just about competently wrapping gifts

But to be honest it’s just fun hanging out with Tim

He’s just someone who knows just about everything due to unlimited internet access

Which could be for better or the worst

But that’s either which way

Tim knows all the shows you talk about no matter how obscure

Apparently when Bruce was researching you Tim had convinced him watching all seasons of sailor moon was for research purposes

As was watching nearly half of all the pretty cure series

And madoka magica

And mew mew

And- you get the point

How he did this? Being delirious to the point Bruce just agreed to anything he wanted so long as he promised to sleep for a good 12 hours

And so for a week straight the home Wayne theatre was his for the taking

For “research” though to anyone who looked in it was mostly definitely for his own viewing

But because of that no matter what show you mention he has watched it

There’s no awkward explaining of the plot

Nor the fact midway through you’d typically stop since most by then would just awkwardly laugh and say they’ll check it out which was code word for “haha no that show sounds weird as shit and I won’t touch it with a 20 foot stick and your weird too stop talking already”

Tim has seen it already and passionately talk to you about it for half an hour straight with no breaks between either of you

Tim is unabashed in his interests

Whether that be 16th century poetry or the most obscure damn show on the internet he picked up for funsies

Tim can and will talk about anything

Andrew with passion too

There’s no awkwardness when you speak to him

It’s just a genuine conversation and interaction

He talks about his favourite episode and characters

His most hated

Favourite scenes or fights

Fan Theories and his own

It feels validating

Because you know he isn’t judging you

He’s just genuine

That’s a lot more than any present you wrap

Your not sure if he knows that though

By the time either of you have wrapped the presents neither of you know that partway in Alfred began to secretly wrap to give you both more time to talk

Opening presents

Christmas morning used to be a morning of quiet

You’d wake up with Rigel and make yourself a small meal and enjoy the day mostly relaxing or preparing for the night when you’d inevitably go out to kill Shadowmites

This years Christmas morning is very different though

Your awoken at 8 on the dot in the morning by Damien who’s standing at your bedside in what looked to be a hand knit sweater

Before you have time to wake up (especially since last night was long as hell) you have a similar sweater shoved in your face

It’s your favourite colour much like the stocking Alfred hand made

So it’s safe to assume he somehow had the time to knit this as well

The shimmery white yarn creating intricate patterns of snowflakes and bunnies frolicking in the snow

Still clad in pyjamas and throwing on the sweater Damien all but drags you from your room and through the long hallways

Feet only clad in socks slapping against the wooden floor

Exhaustion slowly leaving you when your handed a cup of hot chocolate by Alfred

And seeing the absolute mountain of presents stacked under the tree

It’s an mind blowing amount (at least to you)

A sea of patterned paper and bows gleaming under the chandelier light

Stockings stuffed to the brink above a already lit fire

Alfred waiting expectantly on a cushioned chair, old eyes lighting up when seeing the sweater your wearing

By now the others slowly start to trickle in

Bruce looking equally as tired as you in a silk robe topped off with a Christmas hat with a fake beard

Jason not too far behind pushing Dick and Tim out the way

Dick and Tim nearly eating shit on the carpeting because of Jason

Everyone wearing similar sweaters

During the ordeal of opening presents you hand out the ones you’d bought for everyone

A certain sense of satisfaction and nervousness flooding you as you watch their reactions

You’d gotten them many gifts for each but there was one main gift for each you’d spent some time finding (or in one case working on)

Somehow you’d gotten a first edition copy of Moby dick for Jason which resulted in your being thrown in the air and given a back breaking hug

For Dick you scrounged up old “flying Graysons” circus posters at a few vintage stores, somehow you’d gotten another reaction like Jason

In which you nearly ended up air-bound if not for Damien

Speaking of which, for Damien you called in a favour from Klarion for a duel gift to get a rare sapphire encrusted sword Al apparently lost a millennia ago

Apparently it was in some desert beneath 300 feet of sand

Tim got a vintage camera he’d been eyeing for a long time but hadn’t been able to find

For Bruce instead of buying him something you opted to make him something instead

Compared to some of the other gifts it’s simple but you made him a scrapbook with the help of Alfred

It complied everything from his adoption of Dick to you

Every page was themed and included things like dried flowers to old tickets and stickers according to theming

It’s a behemoth of a book

Practically took up 3 months of work when not busy with school or patrols or when Bruce wasn’t around

But it ends up being perhaps the most heartfelt gift of them all

Bruce hugs you?

It’s a weird thing, especially when you swear you almost see him cry

He holds you close to his heart

Alfred insisted you didn’t get him anything but you end up with a similarly handmade gift in the form of recipes written on parchment and bound together in a beautiful ribbon

When asked you simply say you got it from a friend, specifically Mrs.C

And then it comes time for your own presents

And it’s a bit overwhelming

So many boxes wrapped in elegant paper addressed to you

All tied together with pretty bows and streamers

Box after box is handed to you as Damien sits by your side

You’d haven’t even opened any yet and everyone is fighting amongst one another on who’s you should open first

When all of a sudden Damien reveals you’d already opened one

Much to everyone and your own confusion

Except for Alfred who smiles alongside the Al Ghul

Damien points to your sweater

And it sets in for everyone

Turns out he made the Christmas sweater

Not Alfred

When the butler was beginning work on yours Damien insisted he wanted to make it for you

So Alfred obliged and taught him how to knit through the past couple months and make the design

It explains the bunny’s on the sweater

Alongside why he one day came to you holding up several shades of yarn and asked which was your favourite before scurrying off somewhere

After that more presents are opened

Damien smirking and glaring with pride as Tim, Jason and Dick hand you more presents

Unsurprisingly a lot of it is magical girl based merchandise

Though it’s also mixed with a plethora of things like clothes, plushes, books and even some jewelry

From under the tree you even get gifts from a few justice league members

And you some from a few villains as well that Bruce explained stopped him last night and demanded be given to you since you were off duty this Christmas

Though by how you keep repeat rubbing your eyes it seems less like it

“You alright there?” Dick asks as he hands you another present from under the tree, another figurine to add to your growing collection

“Yeah, I’m really tired from last night” you explain rubbing the back of your neck making the rest of the family look at you in confusion

Jason speaks up first, “but you weren’t on patrol last night? We all told you to take Christmas off”

“I wasn’t on patrol…or at least a traditional one” you explain pulling up your phone, it was still weird getting used to this stupid thing. Too many apps and buttons for your taste.

“What exactly does that mean sister?” Damien prodded as you pulled up a picture on your phone.

Holding your phone up the rest of the family goes silent, there in picture form is you in a magical angel ensemble with a halo wings and all but it’s where you are that’s the most interesting. In the background of the picture is a bunch of reindeer attached to the vehicle you were in, the further most deer emanating a red light from its nose that helps light the way through the snow raining down from the heavens as the rest navigate overtop Paris and the Eiffel Tower.

The silence is broken when everyone but an unsurprised Alfred at the top of their lungs begin demanding answers to an obvious question.

????

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the enormous house not a peep was spoken not even a mouse

The family was out all but you, a little girl tucked asleep in her room

But by the stroke of midnight something a tap tap tap rattled you from your sleep

And by your window there stood a man on his sleigh

20 feet up in the air because your room was on the second story floor

A jolly man in red, the one and only Santa Claus tapped at your window and-

Yeah…enough with the rhyming stuff this is getting difficult

So yeah, last night imagine your surprise when you woke up to find Santa tapping on the glass of your window

The jolly iconic man in white and red waving you over to open it

When Santa entered through the window he sat down and asked for you help

Apparently the shadowmites were something even he couldn’t exactly deal with

And when he’s dealing with delivering presents it’s not exactly nice being knawed on by shadow creatures

So he implored your help to make sure Christmas went smoothly this year

And how could you say not to an offer like that

So transforming into your magical outfit you decided what you’d do for your theme

And picked an angel, specifically a snow angel based on the snow angels you’d made with Jason and the angel atop the Christmas tree

Because you’d be looking over everyone just as she did

And so you hopped on Santa’s sleigh and got to work with him delivering presents

Quite honestly delivering presents with St.Nick is quite a fun job

He’s warm and friendly, answering your questions and laughing with glee when explaining stories to you

The reindeer are equally friendly

On the occasionally breaks taken for cookies and milk you get to pet them

Rudolph affectionately booping his nose against your own or Cupid having you readjust her bows attacked to her antlers

A feat according to Santa was something few were allowed to do

And Rigel who sat in Santa’s shoulder

The two talking like old friends

Which implied that Santa was some sort of godly being like him

Which…honestly tracks of your honest

How else would he be able to do this in a single night?

Let alone the fact he had a magical bag containing all his gifts and letters

Along with a list that magically tells him if someone was good or bad within the span of a year

So yeah, safe to assume he’s some sort of god

Maybe like Alfred

Off into the night sky you go, taking a seat beside the gift giving man as he handed you his list to read aloud

A check mark beside a name signifying if they were good and a X for if they were bad

Most names you didn’t recognize as you expected

But a few make you pause

And makes you pull out from the magical bag beside you the gifts you’d been holding for said somebodies

Apparently the sack contained Santa’s gifts and the gifts of anyone during Christmas

Yours included

And Santa just laughs in joy when you ask if you could deliver your own presents as well

John Constantine nearly choked on his cigarette when you appeared at the house of mystery with Santa in tow

The living house shifting around the two of you as you climbed down the chimney with your gift in hand

He can only take it wordlessly before you and Santa climb back out like nothing happened, the house of mystery even creating bricks for proper footing on the way out

For the house you also leave a gift in the form of a pretty wreath for the door

A shudder waves back and forth as you both fly away

Klarion in his own personal realm before you and Santa came crashing in politely with a knock on an inter dimensional door

Because of you this year he somehow worked his way onto the good list

The bottom if the good list but still on it regardless

And thus got more than a chunk of coal for his efforts from Santa

Plus your gift to him of the limited edition 2016 discord and fluttershy figure

Later on in the night when you both fly past Clark he does a double take and seems like if he was Wondering if he was hallucinating

In Atlantis you leave a gift for Arthur under a Christmas tree shaped out of coral

Though themyscira doesn’t exactly celebrate you and Santa do leave a gift for Diana and some of the Amazonians

In Gotham beneath a small Charlie Brown Christmas tree you leave to Waylon a new heater plus Santa’s gift of a heated blanket

You leave something for Harley and Ivy plus some new toys for bud and Lou beneath their freshly grown Christmas tree

Santa even takes you off the planet to do a tradition of his that he did ever year

Aka giving coal to some guy called darkseid

He sounded vaguely familiar but besides Gotham villains you didn’t pay attention beyond that

Apparently he’s at the top of the bad list each year

You wait on the sleigh for when he delivers the coal

But watch as laser beams try to shoot you both down as Santa laughs at whoever shoots them

Even when the beams twist and turn and try to keep up before eventually stopping

But it’s eventually through most of the night that you realize something

There were barely any Shadowmites at all

At least not enough for Santa to be worried about and employ your help with

So it brings up the question, why were you brought on to help this year

And it’s a question the old man answers quite easily as you both sail through to the North Pole for a small pit stop

“Well young lady I thought I’d give you a bit more of different type of gift this year” the jolly old man explains rubbing his long white beard tangled with a few candycanes and cookie crumbs. His grin is unrivaled as is his moustache that’s curled like an old cartoon character, giving him a fun air of whimsy.

“What do you mean?” You end up asking, looking to him in confusion

He smiles, digging out his magic bag some letters that he hands to you. Each are from a different sender but almost all from Gotham, or surrounding area’s. When you read them you begin to understand. Each are addressed to Santa from numerous different people, some are kids, some adults, but all ask for one thing this Christmas, and it’s that you have an amazing Christmas this year. In each letter they detail how you saved them or helped them in some capacity, and that this year instead of a gift for themselves they wanted to give you something.

But that isn’t all, more letters begin to pour out the bag as the sleigh glides atop the Aurora borealis. More and more letters than you could count on your own, all detailing that they wanted you to have a merry Christmas. they fly past but you hear their contents as they fall into the green glow of the aurora which after a moment create phantom memories of the writers form, shimmery wistful versions of them made of greens and purples reading out their letters.

“Don’t think that I didn’t notice that every year you worked hard on Christmas just as I did” the old man tuts, patting your head before going back to guiding his reindeer “though the difference between you and me was Christmas spirit. Though, I can’t blame you for not having it considering circumstance. But year after year of those letters asking for you to have a good Christmas as their gift, and there wasn’t much I could give to do that. So what better to do than give you something a bit different instead? An experience can still be a gift can it not? Especially when it gives you the Christmas spirit you long missed out on”

What he says makes you pause, year after year implies that ever since you began being a magical girl he’d gotten letters asking for this one Christmas wish. And it was yearly that others asked for you to be happy during this holiday, you of all people.

You’d never really understood Christmas until that moment, and it hits you all at once

When you dry your tears into the soft red velvet of Santa’s coat he doesn’t say anything, he just holds you close saying that “you of all people on my list deserves a very merry Christmas ever year my dear”

“And that’s how I ended up exchanging recipes with Mrs claus and ended playing black jack with krampus” you explain showing more photos to your increasingly mortified family

“Well…I….you know what I don’t really know what to say to this” Bruce mutters completely stumped as the others don’t look like their faring any better

If they thought this was weird your not sure how your gonna explain meeting the personification of dreams named Morpheus and also befriending him

But maybe that was a bombshell for another time

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 54

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,355ish

Summary: You and Logan struggle interacting with each other.

Notes: Please share reactions! Please remember to review the timeline posted here.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Your healing factor decided to kick into high gear while you were sleeping, which you were grateful for. Your hands were scarred now, but that didn’t matter as long as the burns were gone. Though you knew that it would probably happen again. You worked again today, but not until later, so you decided to go out and run a few errands. As you were locking up the apartment, you heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Looking over, you saw Logan with his head down and hands stuffed in his pockets. Having felt someone staring, he looked up and stopped. The two of you just stared at each other for a moment before you decided to speak up.

“Hi,” your voice was quiet, nervous. 

“Hey,” he responded, voice low. “You, uh, you heading to work?”

“Not yet,” you shook your head. “I’m off to run some errands.” Logan nodded. “Where are you coming back from?”

“A walk… needed to clear my head and smoke a cigar in peace.”

Your lips turned up at his words. “I get it.” You walked his way, stopping as you reached his side. “Well, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah… see you.”

You continued heading down the hallway. You were almost to the stairs when you heard Logan again.

“Hey, Y/N, wait.” You turned around to see him coming towards you. He stopped a few feet away from you. “Mind if I tag along?”

His words took you by surprise and, in all honesty, a part of you wanted to say no. You didn’t know if you could handle running errands with the man who shared your husbands face. But then you looked at him. You could see the nervousness and the war behind his eyes. Logan was struggling too.

“I don’t mind,” you said quietly. “I could… use the company.”

You wanted as Logan’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. After a moment, he moved to where you were and allowed you to led him down the stairs and out to the street. The two of you walked in silence, enough space away from one another to prevent from bumping into each other. 

You headed into the first store and grabbed a cart. Logan walked off to the side, grabbing the items you asked him to. It quickly became a comfortable routine from this store to the next. Logan carried your bought items around with ease. After the two stores, you decided that you were done for now and the two of you headed back to the apartment complex. 

“You can place everything on the table,” you told Logan as you opened the door to your apartment. “I’ll put everything away.”

“I can help,” Logan said, heading to the table.

“You’ve already helped. I’m sure that you—“

“Please.”

Your head tilted in curiosity at the tone Logan used. He was practically begging for you to let him help. He turned around and looked at you, eyes shining with something you were very familiar with seeing. Guilt. Something in Logan’s mind was eating away at him and he was trying to do something to take his mind off of it.

“Okay,” you whispered.

The two of you began working together to put items away.

“Where’s Laura?” Logan wondered, having not seen her yet today.

“She’s at a high school down the street. I signed her up for summer classes so that she could finish high school.”

Logan nodded. “That will be good for her. She interested in college?”

“She was, before we were sent to The Void. It hasn’t been a conversation that we’ve had since. I won’t force her into anything. I just want her to be happy. She’ll most likely have her father’s ability to live long, so a long and happy—a fulfilled life is all I want for her. Whatever that may look like.”

“You are a good mother.”

The compliment had you lose your breath for a moment. Once you gathered yourself, you turned away from Logan and focused back on the task. The two of you put the rest of the items away in silence. When everything was put away, Logan stuffed his hands back in his pockets and you finally fully faced him.

“Thanks for all your help,” you said, your lips pulling to a small smile.

“Anytime,” he responded with a nod. He turned to leave.

“Would you… I can make lunch.”

Logan stopped and looked back. “You don’t have to.”

“I think you deserve it after I made you carry everything around for me. Come. Sit.”

He fully turned around. “I can help. Put me to work.”

You shook your head. “No. But maybe I’ll let you do dishes when we’re done.”

“Deal.”

Logan sat down at the table as you got to work in the kitchen. His eyes carefully watched your every moment, lingering on your hands ever so often to check on them and to catch the sight of the wedding ring still on your finger.

“How are your hands?” Logan eventually broke the silence.

You paused, glancing at them. “They’re fine.”

“From, uh… From what I’ve picked up, I thought that you were only in pain when you’ve used your powers. Are you still in pain from The Void? Or was it something else?”

“Something else… I… I don’t really want to talk about it.” Logan let out an understanding grunt as he nodded. “How have you been handling all this? I think that everyone knows it’s not easy for me, but… this has to be really hard for you.”

“Yeah, it’s strange… I’m trying to make the most of it. I… well, you heard, I turned my whole world on the X-Men. I… I failed my friends… my family. And I killed many people… This is a fresh start. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Well, I think you’re off to a good start, if that means anything.”

“It does… thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” you shot him a smile. “Are you planning on getting a job?”

“I want to, just to keep my mind busy, but it’ll be hard… The Wolverine is, uh, popular.”

“I’m sure you’ll fine something… I can help if you want.”

“I’ll let you know if I need any.”

You nodded and brought two plates over to the table. “Lunch is served.”

“Looks great. Thanks, princess.”

Princess. Now that was a nickname you hadn’t heard in a lot time. It had your mind reeling. Reliving all the times your Logan had called you that. Your hands began trembling as your lungs felt tight, like you couldn’t breathe. Logan immediately noticed the sudden change in you.

“Y/N?” He called. “Are you alright?” He reached for you but you stumbled back, your breaths coming out in labored pants. 

“I— He—You—“ You couldn’t complete a thought without your breathing getting in the way.

It suddenly clicked. Your husband—Your Logan had called you that. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I overstepped. It just slipped out.” 

Logan stood up and held out his arms like he was calming a timid animal. Your hands were growing hotter, making the whole scenario worse. Logan could see small trails of smoke begin to come from your hands. 

“Y/N, tell me what I can do to help,” he pled. 

“I’m—fine,” you clearly lied.

Logan shook his head. “Tell me what you need.”

“I… Leave… Just… go…”

“Y/N, I can’t—“

“Please! Go!”

Logan stood there and watched as you used the wall to support yourself as you headed down the hall. He didn’t miss the burn marks your hands left on the walls as he watched you disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind you. Logan sighed, shoulders sagging. He couldn’t leave you like this, at least not with your kitchen like this. Logan found food storage containers and placed the lunch in them before placing the containers in the fridge and quickly cleaning up the kitchen. He headed for the door, pausing to look back at the hallway before slipping out.

~~~

You ignored the pain in your gloved hands as you worked. Even sneaking in a few drinks to try to dull the pain and the memory of what happened. You were so embarrassed that a simple nickname sent you into an anxiety attack. After all this time since your husband’s death, you thought that you were more healed than this. But these last few weeks have proven otherwise.

“Buttercup!” Wade yelled across the bar as he entered. He sauntered over to where you were, sitting on a barstool across from you.

“Wade,” you greeted, remaining neutral. “What brings you in?”

“Can’t I visit my favorite fire starter at work?”

“Ssh!! Wade. No one can know. Remember?”

He held his hands up. “Alright. Grumpy. What’s got you all wound up? It’s it the lack of a sex life? Have you not had sex since your husband? How was that by the way? Did you have to do all the work since he was so old?”

“Just shut up, Wade! I’m trying to work.”

He reached over the bar and grabbed your wrist before you could walk away. “Hey. I’m sorry. Seriously. I came to check on you. Apparently it’s something I do now, Savior Of The Universe and all.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, not really buying it. Especially when Logan came back from your place in a mood. He’s finished all the alcohol in the apartment and trust me, Blind Al had a lot of hiding spots that even I couldn’t find. And then there was the fact that Little Wolf came home and freaked when she saw the burn marks on the walls.”

You sighed. “I have a break in ten minutes. Just wait for me in the booth over there.”

~~~

You rolled the beer bottle around on the table, eyes focused on it. Wade sat across from you, watching you silently like he might be able to read your mind.

“It’s not his fault,” you whispered. “I know Logan is feeling guilty. I know it because they’re so similar… He called me a name that Logan—that my husband used to call me. It triggered me. I know he meant nothing by it, but my mind freaked… My powers…” your eyes fell to the gloves. “I’m losing control over them and the pain is getting worse… I shouldn’t have kicked him out the way I did, but I couldn’t help it.”

Wade sighed, pushing down a majority of the inappropriate comments. He could tell that a lot was weighing on you. “Honestly, I probably would have completely combusted.” You laughed, causing Wade to smile. “Logan will get over it. Peanut has his own shit that he’s dealing with while you’re dealing with yours.”

“I owe him an apology.”

Wade scoffed, waving his hand around before taking a sip of his own beer. “Trust me. I’ve read enough Emberine fanfics to know that you never need to apologize to him. No matter where your relationship is at.”

“You weren’t joking when you said you were my biggest fan.”

“I would never lie about something like that, Buttercup. Oh! Maybe when you get home, we can cuddle up and I can read the latest one I found. It’s called, Love That Burns, and a lot of it is eerily familiar to your story. Besides the ending. You died and then Logan went back in time and—“

“Maybe another time. Thanks for coming, Wade.”

“Big Brother Wade to the rescue.”

“I’m a lot older than you.”

He waved you off. “Tis just a number, Buttercup.”

~~~

You were exhausted by the time your shift was over and you got back to your apartment. When you entered, Laura was sitting on the couch working on homework. Her head immediately snapped up to look at you.

“Hey,” you greeted with a small smile, coming over to collapse beside her. “How was school?”

“Fine,” she responded with a huff. “Already have homework.”

“Need any help?”

“Do you?”

You sighed. “Laura—“

“I came home to burn marks on the wall. Do you know how scary that is? I thought… Well, I thought… the worst.”

“Oh, kiddo, I’m so sorry.” You reached over to her but she flinched away, breaking your head. “Laura—“

“I’m just going to go to my room.” She stood quickly gathering all her stuff.

“Laura, please.”

“I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, mom.”

You sighed as she disappeared into her room. You were really killing it today. Leaning forward, your head fell into your hands. You have no idea how long you were like that before there was a knock at the door. Cautious because it was so late, you peeked through the peep whole to see Logan standing there. You could tell that he was nervous and weighed down, emotionally and mentally. You opened the door, causing Logan to breathe a small sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry,” you both said at the same time. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you quickly said before Logan could speak up. 

“But I do. The nickname just slipped.”

“You couldn’t know that it would trigger me. Hell, I didn’t until it did. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have kicked you out the way I did.”

“I deserved it.”

You chuckled. “We are not going to agree on this, are we?”

“Nope… I’m sorry again. Goodnight, Y/N.” He turned away and headed towards his apartment.

“Hey, Logan,” you called. He paused, turning to face you. “Can we have a redo of lunch tomorrow? I still owe you for carrying everything today.”

He nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Great. Goodnight, Logan. And don’t be too hard on yourself.”

You shut the door, leaving Logan in the hallway feeling exposed. Of course you knew that he was eating himself alive. You had married this universe’s version of him. You basically knew him already, yet his universe’s version of you and this version were different in so many ways that he felt you had an unfair advantage over him. But he would allow this to take its time. The strongest friendships always do.

next chapter >

[ghostdiva]

Jax Character Analysis

this was something I was going to turn into a video essay. I unfortunately found out the hard way that I don't have the mental capacity to turn the analysis I made into a video essay. it's just a small essay.

that said, click the read more if you want to read some walls of text.

So, as some of you might guess, I’m a huge fan of the amazing digital circus. I’ve always loved when shows break down their characters, and show how they tick, what their experiences are, and how they coped with it. Especially when these characters are antagonistic in nature. There’s nothing like thinking “man, this character is an asshole”,vaguely wondering why, then getting their lore dropped and thinking “oh…. Well yeah that’d do it”, while coping with the emotional knives the plot just stabbed you with.

And fortunately for me, this show is all about the characters. I remember seeing posts from Gooseworx, the creator of digital circus herself, stating that this show was not only about the characters, but finding meaning in a stagnant life. Which I think is an amazing and deep concept to think about.

Now, there are posts made by other people picking apart every member of the digital circus. However I feel a lot of people get Jax misunderstood, often writing him off as a one-note, one dimentional asshole. Some people even think he’s an NPC, like they can’t fathom the idea that a person would be capable of cruelty, despite the world we live in today. And with how hellish, crazy, and wild the digital world is shown to be able to be, I’m frankly not surprised that a character would be capable of cruelty.

However, I hardly think Jax is 1 dimensional. I think there’s a lot to see and explore with his character. I will also point out now, that I am not condoning, supporting, or defending Jax’s actions in the show, I’m simply trying to understand the why’s.

That said, the first thing I want to address are the emotions Jax portrays throughout the show. I’m also gonna throw in some tells I’ve noticed, along with a sprinkle of shape theory. So let’s get into it.

Like any good storyteller, I’m gonna start at the very beginning. We, as the viewer, see a lot of Jax in the pilot, aka episode 1. The first thing I wanna point out is his facial expressions. Specifically, his tell that I’m going to refer to as “mischief mode”. Whenever Jax wants to cause mischief, his face will portray the tell of “mischief mode”, which is portrayed by his eyes and mouth sharpening into crescent shapes. In "mischief mode”, Jax sports a Cheshire grin, and his eyes squint a bit, creating crescents for every facial feature. He does this when he’s teasing the circus members, or about to cause mischief, which usually involves one of the circus members. Even when Jax isn’t smiling, if the corners of his mouth look sharp or pointed, he’s likely still looking to cause mischief.

But what about when Jax isn’t trying to cause mischief? Well, in practically every other scene we see Jax in, that doesn’t involve mischief, he looks bored. Jax wears expressions that range around boredom, apathy, curiosity, annoyance, and anger. Many times, when I’ve watched Jax’s character, I’ve found myself wondering if chronic boredom was ever a reason for him to do what he does. Especially since he almost seems to chase anything that is new or exciting. He does have limits though, as he’s shown in the pilot immediately booking it when he sees the abstracted Kaufmo.

Speaking of, I do want to talk about his actions in the pilot a bit. As well as his overall attitude toward adventures. With the gather the gloinks adventure, Jax approaches it with a level of apathy. The gloinks are so uninteresting for him, that he barely cares when the gloinks basically kidnap Zooble. Although, you could argue that everyone held a bit of apathy toward Zooble’s kidnapping by gloink, except for Gangle. Afterall, literally everyone just stood there and watched it happen, and Gangle was the only one even remotely looking distressed about Zoobles predicament. If anything, Jax is the only one who calls attention to Zoobles kidnapping by saying “oh no, they killed Zooble. Anyway you guys wanna get something to eat?”

In the pilot he seems to hold a sort of “no matter what happens, they’ll be fine” mindset, which is likely due to the nature of the digital world. Afterall, it seems that the only real way to “die” in the digital world is by abstracting. We as the viewer, see the characters of the digital circus go through things that’d kill a person in the real world. Such as falling from high heights, getting run over, getting eaten, and being slammed into the walls and floor. At worst this can jumble their characters code, making them glitch. However, outside of that, it would seem that physical harm has no real lasting consequences. And Jax, who is already accustomed to the digital world, knows this. Hell, with how often the circus crew gets thrown around on adventures, it wouldn’t surprise me if he ended up finding humor in the misfortune others face and experience. In fact, I’d argue that he does find humor in it, because he does go out of his way to cause that misfortune sometimes.

Getting back on topic, Jax’s approach to the Pilot’s adventure is one of apathy, and he didn’t care about it so much that he elected himself to check on Kaufmo with Ragatha and Pomni instead of participating. The only reason Jax ends up participating in the Gloink adventure at all, is because Kaufmo abstracted. The fact he flees within moments of finding out Kaufmo abstracted, implies that abstracted members are one of the few great dangers within the digital circus. It’s only emphasized more with Ragatha getting glitched after being thrown around by the abstracted Kaufmo. The next time we see Jax in the pilot, he’s running. He checks behind himself as if to make sure he isn’t being chased, before addressing Gangle and Kinger.

How Jax goes about this interaction is interesting to me, and I think it’s what made people think he wasn’t all that bad when all we had was the pilot. When Gangle asks Jax about Kaufmo, he lies about it, saying “oh he’s doing great”. Jax says that with a lot of sarcasm though, dragging out the “great” and making exaggerating gestures. I think Jax lies here because he knows that if he drops the truth here, he’s just going to be questioned. Gangle and Kinger would likely be distressed at the news, making them less likely to move. And Kaufmo is still roaming around the tent. When Jax hears Kaufmo’s growls, he quickly forces himself into mischief mode, using the bowling ball to get both Kinger and Gangle down the “Zooble hole”. Jax then quickly joins them, not only successfully removing all of them from the tent area, but also hiding them from Kaufmo’s abstraction.

A lot of people tend to write off Jax as an asshole, yet his actions seem to show him caring at least a little bit about the people around him. Afterall, if he didn’t care about them, he wouldn’t have forced Kinger and Gangle down the “Zooble hole” with him. He would’ve just left them there, where they’d likely run into Kaufmo and end up like Ragatha, who was left glitched and distorted in the hallway of the living quarters.

Now, you might be thinking “yeah he’s an asshole, not a monster. But what about episode 2? He basically terrorized Pomni and Gangle the whole time”. To which I’d say “funny you bring up episode 2”.

In episode 2, you’re right, we do get a lot of Jax being an ass. However, I’d like to point out what the adventure was called. “Candy Carrier Chaos”. I’m gonna emphasize a very important word here. “Candy Carrier Chaos”. Now, I’m going to preface this by saying, I’m pretty sure Jax is a literal thinker. He doesn’t sugar coat anything he says, in fact, he’s sometimes brutally honest. In episode 3, when Caine told them they had to collect paranormal activity, Jax took it as having to Capture all the ghosts. So when he’s given the adventure called “Candy Carrier Chaos”, where he has to track down a bunch of bandits and take back what they stole; Jax is stoked. The title, and general premise of the adventure implies that it’ll be a high action, high stakes adventure, with fighting, death, and well, chaos. So he goes into this adventure with that expectation, which is why he looks so apathetic until princess Loolilalu brings out the modded syrup tanker. From that point “mischief mode” is on until they go over the cliff and land in the fudge below.

Now I know you’re thinking “OP, Jax literally throws Pomni out of the truck”. You're right, however I think Pomni was only targeted here because Ragatha literally offered her by saying “I’m sure there’s something you could do to help out” in reference to the adventure. Jax, who’s more on the idea of pulling a vehicle heist, and realizing he’ll need an extra set of hands to help him if he wants to do it, just takes the offer. Now, you gotta remember Jax’s mindset regarding member safety. Which is that “they can’t really die or get hurt in a way that matters (that is to say, physically disabled or restricted due to injury), so no matter what happens, they’ll be fine.”

Now, this isn’t a healthy mindset in the slightest, but there is a bit of logic there. Pomni is still new and doesn’t know this yet, so she’s understandably hurt and confused by Jax’s actions. Which is why she doesn’t see Jax as someone who would be there for her, and we see this with Jax’s hand missing in this scene.

But this isn’t about Pomni, this is about Jax.

Now, once the truck goes over the cliff, everyone is on the outside of the truck. With the fudge monster, it looks like Jax is like, scraping the bottom of the barrel for what chaos he can cause. The most he could do was yoink Ragatha’s key to the Kingdom with the promise to let the fudge monster into the kingdom if he helps them capture the gummy gators. It’s a promise he makes good on, and it ends up being the last laugh he gets for causing chaos in this episode.

Now, with episode 3, we unfortunately don’t get a lot of Jax. from what we do get, we see him follow the premise of the adventure, vacuuming up ghostly under the idea that “collecting paranormal activity” meant “capturing the ghosts”. Ragatha scolds him for it, and when they have to choose between the 2 doors, Jax uses Gangle’s mask to see if the scary door was rigged or something. It was, as the door turned into a giant mouth, consuming Gangle’s mask, never to be seen again. This kicks off the plot, where Kinger and Pomni get separated from the group. I’d like to point out that this is the second time in a row that Jax’s actions has caused Pomni to get separated from the rest of the group. However Jax had no way of knowing that Kinger and Pomni would end up getting forced down the scary door. Once again though, his apathy toward them is made clear when all he has to say after this is “oh that’s the scary door”.

The next time we see Jax, he’s tied up and struggling against the rope. And if I had to guess, he probably just wanted to get free to capture the other ghost that Ragatha and Gangle had a tea party with. As soon as they all left Martha Mildenhall’s room, Jax stopped struggling. While he was tied up though, Jax’s expression ranged from enraged, to annoyed.

I’d also like to point out another little detail I noticed. And it’s that Jax gets visibly annoyed whenever someone has an emotional moment. He gets annoyed when Kaufmo’s funeral is brought up, he gets annoyed when Pomni explains why she wants to bring Gumigoo back with her. He gets annoyed when Pomni thanks Ragatha for being concerned about her. It’s almost like he gets annoyed at emotional vulnerability. And boy do I wonder why this purple twink has such a strong reaction to emotional vulnerability. I mean, there’s only a few times that Jax is seen being emotionally vulnerable himself, and each of these instances are at most, a second or 2 long. 

This brings me to the 4th episode, which is the most recent episode as of posting this. This is also probably the most interesting episode for Jax’s character so far, as he seems to take it down a notch when it comes to the mischief he usually makes.

The episode begins with Jax, Gangle, and Ragatha chilling in the common area. Jax wielding a baseball bat, and Ragatha trying to teach Gangle how to throw a baseball. While Ragatha verbally walks Gangle through the motions of throwing the ball, Jax says “you’re wasting your time Raggy”, in a teasing manner. Keep in mind, this is the first time we’re seeing the characters engage in actual play with one another. And Jax does seem to just want to play in the moment. Hell, I’d say he’s being very patient, waiting for Ragatha to teach Gangle to throw so he can hit the ball. He’s also displaying emotions outside his usual range. During this bit he has a neutral, focused, or curious expression, which I’d say is indicative of him just wanting to play a game. The only “Mischief Mode” tell present here is his smile, but his eyes aren’t squinted in the crescent shape that indicates it. So it’s very likely that he’s just having fun here.

When Gangle finally throws the ball, Jax swings the bat, hits the ball with his eyes closed, and the ball hits Gangle in the face. Ragatha immediately scolds Jax, assuming he did it on purpose. Jax immediately defends himself saying “I actually didn’t mean to do that”, but Ragatha doesn’t seem to care that it was an accident, and only sees that Jax hurt a circus member again. So the 2 start fighting, with Ragatha stating her anger at Jax for always hurting the other members, and Jax arguing that this time was an accident, and that if it were on purpose he would’ve been proud of it. Which implies that Jax wasn’t proud of the fact that he hurt Gangle here. He probably was just trying to play a game.

Outside of that, episode 4 has a lot of Jax scenes that show similar and different sides to him. We see him still get up to some mischief when he throws Ragatha in the deep fryer, but after that we see a more chill version of Jax. His expressions also visually seem more strained or forced in some scenes, which might allude to what Gooseworx meant when she said Jax would get worse as the episodes went on. When Gooseworx said that originally, people thought that the pranks and mischief Jax would cause would get more and more extreme, to the point where he crosses a serious line. However, I think that Jax’s “Mischief Mode” is a mask in it of itself, which was meant to cover up his feelings and emotions. And we as the viewer will see that mask slip more and more, as Jax’s mental state steadily declines. You see, Kaufmo was an example of what happens when you don’t have a support group in the digital world, and no one likes Jax. So why would any of the circus members try to be there for him? He’s not once shown to have any care for them in their eyes. To them, all he’s done is tease them, bully them, and sometimes even intentionally put them in harm's way. Even in moments where it wasn’t intentional on his part. I’ll admit, this does make me nervous for his character moving forward, but while Gooseworx said he’d get worse, she didn’t say he won’t get better. I really do want to see Jax get some positive character development, or even just get some more concrete reasons behind Jax’s behaviour.

[lyrakanefanatic]

yesterday i was thinking to myself “damn, after reading games untold, i can’t believe i ever disliked toby hawthorne”, and then i reread the end of thl.

LITERALLY WHAT WAS THIS BEHAVIOUR??? im sorry, but toby didn’t even KNOW eve at the time, so nobody can use the “but eves psychotic” excuse

like bro, you cannot sleep with HALF OF TEXAS’ FEMALE POPULATION and then decide to choose favourites. LIKE THIS ISNT A PICK AND MIX??? U DONT TAKE ONE DAUGHTER AND DISCARD THE OTHER??

the fact that he said that he would “take care of her DICREETLY” like she is some kind of threat is actually HEINOUS. and then he proceeds to go on and act all lovey dovey to his non-biological daughter who he LOVES MORE LIKE WHAT?? 😭

and yes, before anybody says anything, i know that hannah was the love of his life and averys mother, which is why he feels so much love for avery, even more than he does for eve. i get that. what i don’t get is the fact that he wanted to keep eve a secret because he didn’t know her (SHES HIS DAUGHTER???) to keep avery safe ON A WHIM.

and yes, maybe it’s good that he tried to distance the two because eve did end up being dangerous. BUT THERE IS NO WAY PEOPLE ARE SURPRISED THAT SHE DIDNT WANT TO LIVE LIKE TOBY?? 😭😭🙏

this man was trying to keep her hidden, AFTER SHE HAD SPENT HER WHOLE LIFE BEING INVISIBLE. ARE YOU JOKING.

obv im not excusing eves actions, and i don’t understand why she decided to immediately cling to vincent blake like dead skin, but i know why she didn’t want to stay invisible like toby, and the fact that he even tried to make her do that shows that he has no clue what his daughters like, let alone how to parent right.

anyways that’s my little rant. toby ily but if u EVER fix ur lips to say idiotic things and act stupid like this again ill beat your ass 🫶

[howtodrawyourdragon]

Been thinking a lot as of late about the fandom take that Hiccup actually should hold a grudge against his village for the way he was treated. This is the "hold a grudge" website, so I'm not surprised and neither is this post about telling you that you're wrong to feel this way. If I was raised the way Hiccup was, outcasted to the point that I start to make friends with the enemy, I would be angry, too!

But holding a grudge just isn't in Hiccup's nature. And I think there is no bigger proof than his incredibly deep bond with Toothless.

Because even ignoring Httyd 2 for a moment, the first movie also hints at Valka dying to dragons.

The dragon raids are the only mentioned outside threat before they learn about the Red Death. And with Stoick gifting Hiccup a helmet made of his mother's breast plate (which are not supposed to be boob-shaped, believe it or not) when he thinks his son does surprisingly well in dragon training, that could be another one of those hints.

Hiccup will be facing dragons after training instead of being hidden in the forge for his own safety (while helping to contribute like the other teens) so it makes sense to me that Valka's death was always meant to be at the claws of dragons and Stoick is trying to prevent that now that it's become a reality that Hiccup might actually face dragons in the very near future.

There is no other threat spoken about in the first movie. Hiccup's mother was always killed by dragons. She's missing from his life because Toothless' kind took him away from her. If Hiccup were to be angry at his village for the way he was treated, he should also be angry at dragons for taking away the one person who could've been unconditionally on his side. Like mothers are supposed to be.

But Hiccup isn't angry at dragons. As a matter of fact, when he gets up close to one, has one completely at his mercy, he doesn't hate Toothless. And this is before he even realizes that there's more to them than fire breathing, home-destroying, food-stealing, man-eating creatures from Hell.

Instead of being angry, he sees Toothless for who he is. A living being just as complex as he is. Capable of fear, of curiosity, of forgiveness, of remorse, of love. And Hiccup wasn't kept from seeing this because anger for having his mother taken from him didn't blind him.

The same can be said about Mildew, who gets the dragons in trouble again and again. But at the end of RoB, Hiccup still decides to put his trust in him to get them both (and Toothless) home.

And Dagur, who started a whole war over being betrayed by Hiccup, which gives him a grudge for three whole years that leaves him filled with revenge until Viggo gives him a sudden change of perspective that leads to months of introspection. It takes a little while, but Hiccup doesn't just accept him as a friend, but accepts Dagur's offer to be found brothers.

He should hold a grudge against Heather. Who played on his kindness to get Alvin the Book of Dragons and then seemingly played him again in RttE, when he lets her stay on Dragon's Edge and the very next time they see her, she's working for the Hunters. Who come into their lives by leaving Astrid to die stranded in the middle of the ocean and abducting Stormfly. With only Astrid learning that Heather is actually spying on them with Hiccup not learning about this fact until much later. (Something very clearly hurts him, but even being left out of the loop he forgives Astrid and Heather for.)

Alvin canonically held Hiccup and Toothless captive for days, barely giving Toothless any food or water. Hiccup literally states that in the first episode of DoB.

And while they don't show it in the show itself, in the very first episode afterwards, Hiccup is trying to prepare his 14 and 15 year old friends for interrogation. Clearly something in that two-parter spooked him enough to do something as drastic as this.

But at the end of DoB, Hiccup still chooses trust Alvin to help rescue Stoick and get Outcast Island back from Dagur. An alliance was forged. One strong enough that when Stoick gets gravely injured in RttE, Alvin can be trusted to come in and help out around Berk.

The closest Hiccup comes to holding a grudge is with Viggo. The first person to ever make Hiccup feel like an idiot, make him feel frustrated that he can't get immediately out on top like he did with all his previous villains. He spends literal months trying to find Viggo just to get back at him, dragging all his friends and his dragons down with him. But even that doesn't last.

Not with both Dagur as well as Stoick advising him against harboring feelings of vengeance. Dagur warns Hiccup against how the need for vengeance can change a person. Stoick warns Hiccup that revenge can lead to an endless cycle of violence, explicitly telling his son that he's telling him this out of experience. They don't want Hiccup to be lead astray and hurt by holding and acting on grudges.

There is the potential for Drago, which the comics did try to get into until a certain comic got cancelled and left us with that story unresolved. For newer fans who don't yet know this; Hiccup was actually meant to experience a downward spiral in the comics that take place after Httyd 2. Except the comic that would've concluded this storyline got canceled around the time of THW's release. Probably because THW confirms that Drago is dead while the canceled comic actually had Hiccup face Drago again, the man in hiding after his defeat. Release The Fire Tides!

This entire post just to say... A grudge would've been justified, but Hiccup just doesn't have it in him to hold onto one. Certainly not forever.

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Across the Ropes.. a Zilla Fatu x OC Fanfic.

Chapter 2: Rapture

April 25th, 2025 11:58 PM

It had been two months since Zilla woke up in Dahlia’s dorm room, slipped out quietly, and left her behind. He regretted it every day since. But in his mind, it had to be that way. They were from completely different worlds, and there was no way someone like him—with his chaotic past and uncertain future—could give someone like her what she deserved. Especially now, with his dream of wrestling in the WWE finally coming true, there was no space for distractions or emotional vulnerabilities. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

Now, as he sat in a dimly lit bar in Pensacola, FL, with his cousins Jacob and Joseph Fatu, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of that decision. The night had been good; Friday Night SmackDown had been a success, and his cousins were in high spirits, laughing and joking as they enjoyed their drinks. But Zilla couldn’t fully shake the gnawing feeling that had been eating at him since the day he walked out on Dahlia.

“You good, Uce’?” Jacob asked, tipping his beer bottle in Zilla’s direction.

Zilla gave a slight nod, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Yeah, just tired,” he replied, though even he didn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“Tired or thinking too much?” Joseph asked, smirking knowingly. He always had a way of reading people, especially family, and Zilla wasn’t exactly hard to figure out tonight.

Zilla shot him a side-eye and let out a dry laugh. “Ain’t nothing to think about,” he said, but the way his voice trailed off made it clear that wasn’t true.

Jacob leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studied Zilla. “You sure about that? You’ve been looking like you’ve got something heavy on your chest all night.”

Zilla sighed and took a long sip of his whiskey, hoping it would silence the noise in his head. But it didn’t. The image of Dahlia’s face—the way she smiled, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed—kept creeping back into his mind. He hadn’t seen her since that night, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About how he left things. About how he walked out without even saying goodbye.

“You ever do something you thought was right at the time, but now…” Zilla paused, struggling to find the words. “Now, you’re not so sure?”

Jacob and Joseph exchanged a glance before Jacob spoke up. “Life’s full of those moments, bro. But the real question is, are you gonna let it keep eating at you, or are you gonna do something about it?”

Joseph chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, I ain’t never seen you this quiet. Whoever or whatever this is about must be serious.”

Zilla didn’t respond immediately. He just stared into his glass, the alcohol doing little to drown out the ache in his chest. His cousins were right. He had messed up—big time. Dahlia didn’t deserve what he did to her, and he knew that. But what could he do about it now? Their lives had moved on. She was probably doing fine without him.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Zilla finally admitted, his voice low.

Jacob leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Start by figuring out what you want. You can’t keep running from shit, Z. If this is about a girl—”

“It’s not just a girl,” Zilla cut him off, surprising even himself with the force of his words. “It’s… different.”

Joseph raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

Zilla hesitated, the vulnerability making him feel exposed. But he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. “She’s… special. And I think I messed it up for good.”

Jacob let out a low whistle, sitting back in his chair. “Well, damn. If she’s that special, maybe it’s worth swallowing your pride and seeing if you can make it right.”

Zilla mulled over his cousin’s words, feeling the truth of them settle in his gut. The problem was, he wasn’t sure if he had the courage to face Dahlia again. To admit he was wrong. To risk hearing that she had moved on.

As the bar buzzed around him, Zilla felt the weight of his decision looming over him. He knew he couldn’t keep hiding from what he felt. But the real question was: after all this time, would Dahlia even want to hear from him?

As the bar lights dimmed, signaling last call, Joseph stretched and asked, “Y’all ready to head out?”

Jacob downed the last of his beer and nodded. “Yeah, let’s bounce.”

Zilla didn’t say much, just grabbed his jacket and followed them outside. The cool night air felt heavy as they waited for their Uber, the sounds of the city around them contrasting sharply with the turmoil in Zilla’s mind. He couldn’t shake the thought of Dahlia.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet. Jacob and Joseph talked softly about plans for tomorrow, but Zilla barely registered their words. Instead, he stared out the window, replaying that night in Dahlia’s dorm room over and over. He hadn’t just left her; he’d left a piece of himself there, and he’d been trying to fill that void ever since.

When they got to the hotel, Jacob slapped Zilla on the shoulder. “You good, man?”

“Yeah,” Zilla lied, forcing a small smile.

Joseph gave him a curious look but didn’t push. “Alright. Don’t stay up all night.”

The cousins disappeared into their rooms, leaving Zilla alone in the suite. He kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the couch, pulling out his phone. His fingers hovered over Booker’s contact. He wasn’t sure why, but something in him needed guidance—and maybe a little courage.

He typed out a quick message.

Zilla: OG, you up?

Booker responded almost instantly.

Booker: Always. What’s going on, kid?

Zilla stared at the screen, debating how to phrase it.

Zilla: You remember that girl? The smart one? From Houston?

Booker: The college one? Yeah. What about her?

Zilla: You wouldn’t still have her number, would you?

The dots indicating Booker was typing appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared. Finally, a reply came through.

Booker: What’s this about?

Zilla: I just… I need to talk to her.

The pause was agonizing. Zilla tapped his foot, scrolling mindlessly through TikTok to distract himself. After what felt like an eternity, another message popped up.

Booker: You sure this is a good idea? You left her hanging, man. That’s not easy to come back from.

Zilla: I know. But I can’t stop thinking about her. I need to fix it.

More dots.

Booker: Alright. But don’t waste her time. She’s too good for games.

A moment later, a text came through with Dahlia’s number.

Booker: Here. Good luck, kid.

Zilla stared at the number for a long moment. His heart pounded in his chest as doubt crept in. Would she even pick up? Did she even want to hear from him?

But before he could second-guess himself, he hit the call button.

The phone rang once. Twice. Three times.

Just as he was about to hang up, a familiar voice answered. “Hello?”

Zilla froze. Hearing her voice again hit him harder than he expected. He cleared his throat, trying to steady himself.

“Dahlia. It’s me,” he said quietly.

There was silence on the other end, then a sharp intake of breath. “Zilla?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice soft.

Another pause, this one heavier.

“What do you want?” she asked, her tone guarded.

Zilla leaned forward, running a hand over his face. “I wanted to talk. To explain. I know I messed up, but—”

“You think a phone call makes it better?” Dahlia interrupted, her voice sharp. “You ghosted me, Zilla. For two months.”

“I know that, like for real, I didn’t mean to,” Zilla said, his voice pleading.

Dahlia let out a frustrated sigh on the other end of the line. “I have to go. My break is over. Look, just delete my number, Zilla.”

“No,” Zilla said firmly, cutting her off before she could hang up. “I don’t want to.”

Dahlia went silent for a moment, the sound of faint chatter and clinking dishes in the background letting him know she was back at work. “You don’t get to say that,” she finally said, her voice quieter but still laced with hurt. “You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and act like you care now. You left me, Zilla.”

“I know,” Zilla admitted. “And I’ve been kicking myself every damn day since. I was scared, Dahlia. Scared of what I felt, scared of ruining you. You deserve so much better than what I am.”

“I didn’t ask for better,” she snapped. “I asked for you. And you couldn’t even stay.”

Her words cut deep, but Zilla knew he deserved it. “You’re right. I couldn’t. But I’m here now, trying to make it right.”

Dahlia let out a bitter laugh. “What do you even want from me, Zilla?”

“I want to fix it,” he said without hesitation. “I want to start over, if you’ll let me. I know I don’t deserve it, but I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. About what we could’ve been if I hadn’t screwed it up.”

The line went quiet again, and for a moment Zilla thought she’d hung up.

“You think it’s that easy?” Dahlia finally asked, her voice soft but still guarded.

“No,” Zilla said. “I know it’s not. But I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I’m serious this time.”

Dahlia sighed, and he could hear the conflict in her tone. “I don’t know if I can trust you, Zilla. Not after what you did.”

“You don’t have to trust me yet,” he said. “Just give me a chance to earn it back.”

There was a long pause before Dahlia spoke again. “I need to get back to work.”

“Okay,” Zilla said, his heart sinking.

“I’ll think about it,” she added, so quietly he almost didn’t hear her.

His head shot up. “You will?”

“Don’t push it,” she said, but he could hear the faintest trace of something softer in her voice.

“Alright,” Zilla said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you.”

“Goodbye, Zilla,” Dahlia said, and the line went dead.

Zilla let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, staring at his phone. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And for the first time in weeks, he felt like he had a shot at making things right.

—

Dahlia got up from her seat, tossing the remnants of her lunch into the trash with a little more force than necessary. She adjusted her scrubs and sighed, trying to push the conversation with Zilla out of her mind.

She was working as a medical scribe at the Texas Medical Center, a job that not only brought in extra income but also looked great on her medical school application. The long hours weren’t easy, but they kept her mind occupied—or at least they usually did.

“Hey, boo!” a familiar voice called out.

Dahlia turned and saw Sabrina, her roommate and fellow medical scribe, striding toward her with a big smile. Sabrina always had a way of brightening up any room, her energy infectious.

“Hey, girl,” Dahlia said, trying to muster some enthusiasm.

Sabrina tilted her head and gave her a curious look. “What’s got you all wound up? You’ve been fidgety all day.”

Dahlia hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Remember that wrestler I told you about?”

Sabrina’s eyes widened, her smile growing sly. “Oh, don’t tell me—he called you, didn’t he?”

Dahlia folded her arms and leaned against the wall, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah. Out of nowhere. After two months of complete silence.”

Sabrina let out a low whistle. “Well, what did he say? What does he want?”

Dahlia shrugged, frustration bubbling to the surface. “To fix things, apparently. To ‘earn my trust back,’ whatever that means. I don’t even know why I answered the phone.”

“Girl, because you still care,” Sabrina said knowingly. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

“I don’t know,” Dahlia admitted, rubbing her temple. “He sounded… different. Like he actually felt bad. But how do I trust someone who left me like that?”

Sabrina crossed her arms and gave Dahlia a pointed look. “So, what are you gonna do? Give him a chance or shut him out for good?”

“I told him I’d think about it,” Dahlia said.

“Hmm,” Sabrina mused, tapping her chin. “Well, my advice? Don’t rush. Make him work for it. If he really wants you back, he’ll prove it.”

Dahlia sighed again. “I guess.”

“Trust me,” Sabrina said with a wink. “If he’s serious, you’ll know. But until then, focus on you. Don’t let him mess with your head.”

Dahlia nodded, feeling a little lighter after talking to Sabrina. “You’re right. I’ll see what he does. No more stressing about it for now.”

“Exactly,” Sabrina said with a grin. “Now, let’s get back to work before Dr. Patel starts looking for us.”

Dahlia smiled faintly and followed Sabrina back toward the clinic, her mind still buzzing but her resolve a little stronger. Whatever happened next, she was determined to stay in control.

At 6 a.m., Dahlia and Sabrina clocked out, both exhausted from their overnight shifts. As they stepped into the cool morning air, Sabrina unlocked her car and slid into the driver’s seat, gesturing for Dahlia to join her.

“I’m heading to my sugar daddy’s place after I drop you off,” Sabrina said with a cheeky grin. “I need a real shower and maybe a mimosa if I’m lucky.”

Dahlia chuckled as she buckled her seatbelt. “Have fun, and don’t forget to hydrate.”

“Oh, I will,” Sabrina replied with a wink, pulling out of the parking lot.

The drive to the dorms was quiet, save for the low hum of the radio. Dahlia stared out the window, the streetlights and early risers blurring past. She was too tired to speak, but her thoughts swirled with the call.

When Sabrina pulled up in front of the dorms, Dahlia gave her a tired smile. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime,” Sabrina said. “Now go get some sleep. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Dahlia laughed softly, stepping out of the car. “You’re not wrong. See you later.”

“Later, boo!” Sabrina called as she drove off, already humming along to the music on the radio.

Dahlia climbed the steps to the dormitory, her body heavy with exhaustion. She made her way upstairs to her room, unlocked the door, and dropped her bag onto the floor. The silence of the room was comforting after the noise of the hospital.

She grabbed a fresh set of pajamas and her shower caddy, then shuffled to the communal showers down the hall. The hot water was soothing against her tired muscles, washing away the stress of the night. Dahlia took her time, letting herself unwind under the steady stream.

When she returned to her room, she pulled down the blackout shade and glanced at the clock on her desk. 6:52 a.m. She yawned, her body ready to collapse.

Crawling into bed, Dahlia pulled the covers up to her chin, the cool sheets a welcome contrast to the warmth of the shower. But as she closed her eyes, she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back to Zilla.

His voice still echoed in her ears, his apology replaying like a broken record. She hated how much space he still occupied in her thoughts.

“Why now?” she murmured to herself, staring at the ceiling in the dim light. Despite her exhaustion, sleep didn’t come easily. Dahlia sighed and turned onto her side, willing her mind to quiet down.

Before Dahlia could drift off into a deep sleep, her phone buzzed, pulling her from the haze of exhaustion. She squinted at the screen, still half-asleep, and her heart skipped when she saw it was a message from Zilla. It read:

Imma be honest, I tossed and turned many nights thinking of you and now… I just want to hold you in my arms again.

Dahlia couldn’t help but smile at the message, the warmth spreading through her chest despite the conflict that had lingered between them. She bit her lip, staring at the screen for a moment, before her thumb hovered over the keyboard. Without overthinking it, she typed out a quick response and hit send. But then she paused, thinking about it. Should she call him?

She muttered to herself, “Fuck it,” and pressed the dial button.

The phone rang a couple of times before Zilla picked up, his voice sounding groggy, like he hadn’t been expecting her to reach out.

“Dahlia?” he said, his voice low and a little hoarse.

“Yeah,” she replied softly, sitting up in bed, tucking her legs beneath her. “I got your message.”

There was a pause on the other end, and she could hear him exhale, almost as if he was relieved. “I didn’t think you’d call. Honestly, I thought you’d ignore me for good.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning to,” she admitted, letting out a small laugh that didn’t quite hide the nervousness in her voice. “But here we are.”

“I’m glad,” Zilla said. “I really am.”

They spoke for a few moments, small talk at first, just feeling each other out. But soon, the tension started to creep back in, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Dahlia felt the pull of the past, but she also couldn’t deny the way her heart seemed to ache every time Zilla’s name crossed her mind.

“You really want to know why I’m not just going to give you another chance like that?” Dahlia finally asked, her voice thick with emotion.

“Anything,” Zilla replied, his voice earnest. “Just… anything. If it helps me understand better.”

Dahlia hesitated, thinking back to that day they spent together. The way it felt so effortless, so right. But it was also the day she realized how vulnerable she had let herself become, how much she’d allowed Zilla in, only for him to walk away. “It’s because… like, we had this great day together, you know? It felt… different. I’ve never felt that way with anyone else.”

Zilla was quiet for a moment, processing her words. Then, in a tone filled with urgency and longing, he said, “Let me come see you. I’m gonna be in Houston in about three hours.”

Dahlia’s stomach flipped at the thought. The idea of seeing him again after everything was overwhelming. “I’ll be sleeping,” she said, her voice soft, unsure. She didn’t know if she was ready for this, for him to show up, to feel that pull all over again.

“I’ll come in and sleep with you,” Zilla said, his words almost a whisper, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice. “I just… I want to hold you again. For real, Dahlia. No games this time.”

She let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head as she spoke. “You lying.”

“I’m serious,” he replied, the edge of desperation creeping into his voice. “I don’t care if we just sleep. I just want to be near you, to hold you, like I should’ve done before.”

Dahlia’s breath caught in her throat. Her mind raced, torn between wanting to let him in and the fear of opening herself up only to be hurt again. But there was something about his words that hit her deep. She knew he wasn’t playing this time.

“I don’t know, Zilla,” she said quietly, unsure of what she was feeling. “This… this feels too soon.”

“I know,” he responded, the understanding in his tone clear. “But I’m telling you, I’m not going anywhere. I want to make things right. I’ll give you the time you need. But I need to see you. Just to show you that I’m not messing around.”

Dahlia paused, her heart pounding in her chest. She had been trying to guard herself, but in this moment, with Zilla’s voice on the other end, everything felt like it was slowly unraveling. She didn’t know what the future held, but she knew she couldn’t ignore the way she still felt when he spoke to her like this.

“Okay,” she said after a long pause, her voice barely above a whisper. “Come over. But don’t expect things to just magically be okay, Zilla. I’m not giving you a free pass.”

Zilla let out a relieved sigh, the weight of her words still sinking in. “I don’t expect that, Dahlia. But I’ll be there, and I’ll do whatever it takes.”

The line fell silent for a moment, both of them knowing this was just the beginning of whatever was to come.

“I’ll see you soon,” Zilla said softly, before hanging up.

Dahlia stared at the phone for a few moments, the adrenaline from the call still pulsing through her. She wasn’t sure if this was the right decision, but deep down, she knew she couldn’t deny the connection they still had.

And for better or worse, things were about to get even more complicated.

—

Zilla stepped off the plane at George Bush Intercontinental Airport (IAH), a sense of anticipation settling in his chest. The excitement of being in Houston, of being so close to Dahlia, was almost overwhelming. He quickly grabbed his bags from the carousel and headed outside to catch a taxi. The car ride to Rice University felt like the longest drive of his life, his mind racing with thoughts of the past couple of months and the decision that had brought him here tonight.

Dahlia had messaged him earlier, saying that the door would be unlocked. It was her invitation, her way of letting him back in. No backing out now, he thought, trying to push aside the lingering doubts that had been with him since the day he left.

The taxi finally pulled up to the dorms, and Zilla made his way toward the building, a sense of nostalgia hitting him as he passed the familiar halls. He could remember the countless nights spent here, the shared laughter, the little moments that had left an imprint on his heart. He couldn’t help but smile as he approached the door to Dahlia’s room. The memory of the door sign—a big D and S filled in with purple and red markers, decorated with flowers—made his heart flutter.

Zilla opened the door quietly, making sure to lock it behind him. He didn’t want any interruptions—not tonight. He set his bags down softly, careful not to wake her. He peeled off his hoodie, leaving him in just a black muscle shirt and basketball shorts, a casual outfit, but enough for him to feel comfortable. His eyes scanned the room, landing on Dahlia as she lay there, curled up under the covers. He moved to the side of the bed, wanting to give her space, but also needing to feel close to her.

He climbed into the bed, careful not to disturb her. The sheets rustled softly as he adjusted the comforter, making sure they were both covered. As he settled in, he slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. The moment was so quiet, so intimate, that Zilla could hardly believe he was finally here, with her, after everything that had happened.

He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, a tender gesture that made her stir in her sleep. Dahlia shifted, naturally seeking his warmth. She adjusted herself and curled closer, her body fitting perfectly against his. Zilla closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to just be in the moment, to feel her skin against his. Her smooth skin, the soft scent of her kiwi-strawberry shampoo, and the way her breathing was so rhythmic and peaceful—it all felt like a dream.

In all the months he had been away, he hadn’t felt this way about anyone. It wasn’t just about the physical closeness—it was the connection, the way everything felt so right when she was near. They’d only had one date, one day together, but it had been enough to leave a lasting mark on his heart.

Dahlia turned, instinctively seeking more of him. She placed her arm across his chest, her hand resting on his side. Zilla smiled, pulling her even closer, savoring the way her body fit against his. She nestled her head into his chest, and for a moment, it was as if the rest of the world had disappeared.

Her voice broke the silence, soft and barely a whisper. “Your cologne,” she said, the words almost dreamlike.

Zilla grinned, his fingers gently running through her hair. “You like it?”

Dahlia nodded, her lips brushing against his chest as she spoke. “It grounds me,” she murmured.

Her words made Zilla’s heart swell, and he pulled her even closer, wanting to hold her as tightly as possible. He wanted to keep her safe, keep her in his arms forever.

“What are you doing to me?” Dahlia whispered, her voice full of quiet wonder. There was a vulnerability in her words, a soft admission of the effect he was having on her.

Zilla didn’t answer right away. He just held her, his arms wrapped around her, the silence between them speaking volumes. He knew what they had was special, and he wasn’t about to let it slip away this time.

All he could do was press his lips to her forehead and hold her, savoring the moment, feeling the weight of everything that had brought them here. The exhaustion of the past months, the distance, the doubts—everything seemed to fade away as he held Dahlia in his arms, the two of them entwined in a fragile, beautiful moment of peace.

12:13 PM

Dahlia woke to the feeling of strong arms wrapped securely around her. For a moment, she felt a peaceful kind of weightlessness, as if the world outside didn’t exist. She turned her head slightly and saw Zilla still asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily.

The peace was interrupted by a buzzing sound. Dahlia turned her head toward the source and saw Zilla’s phone lighting up repeatedly. She sighed softly, not wanting to disturb the moment, but after the fourth buzz, she carefully nudged him awake.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice gentle. “Someone keeps calling you.”

Zilla groaned lightly, his voice thick with sleep as he mumbled, “Yeah?” He blinked a few times and stretched before pulling his phone out of his bag. His eyes squinted at the screen as he rubbed his face with his other hand.

“It’s my mom,” he finally said after typing out a quick message. “She didn’t know where I was.”

Dahlia sat up slightly, brushing her hair out of her face. “Do you want to call her back?” she asked softly.

“Nah, she’ll be fine,” Zilla said, tossing his phone onto the bed. “I’ll check in with her later.”

He sat up fully now, his broad shoulders stretching as he rolled his neck to wake himself up. He looked over at Dahlia, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “Damn, I’m starving. You want to get something to eat?”

Dahlia laughed, the sound soft and warm. “Where at?”

“I want some Mexican food,” Zilla said, already pulling on his hoodie.

Dahlia’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I think Ranchero is open.”

Zilla raised an eyebrow. “The buffet?”

“Duhhhh,” Dahlia teased, grinning.

“Alright, let’s do it,” Zilla said, shaking his head with a chuckle. “But I gotta go get my car first.”

“That’s fine,” Dahlia said, sliding out of bed and stretching. “Take an Uber, get your car, and I’ll be here getting ready.”

Zilla leaned over and kissed her softly. “Bet. I’ll be back soon.”

Dahlia watched him gather his things, throwing on his sneakers and grabbing his wallet. As he left, the door clicked softly behind him, and the room fell quiet again.

For a moment, she just stood there, smiling to herself. It felt surreal having Zilla here after everything. But the warmth that lingered from his kiss and his presence reminded her that this was real, that maybe they could make this work.

Finally, Dahlia shook herself out of her thoughts. She walked over to her small dresser and began picking out clothes. She didn’t want to dress up too much—it was just a casual breakfast—but she wanted to look cute. After some debate, she settled on a pair of high-waisted jeans and a fitted tank top, throwing a light cardigan over it.

She ran her fingers through her hair, glancing in the mirror before grabbing her makeup bag. As she dabbed on some concealer and mascara, she felt a little flutter in her chest. It was silly, she thought, but she couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. This wasn’t just an afternoon meal. It felt like a fresh start.

—

Zilla stepped out of the Uber, thanking the driver before making his way up the short path to the house he shared with his mom. He unlocked the door and called out, “Ma! I’m home!”

From the kitchen, he heard the shuffle of slippers before his mom appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. Her face was a mixture of love and annoyance as she raised an eyebrow at him. “Since when do we get off flights and go straight to a university, Isayah?”

Zilla smirked, dropping his bag by the door. “Hello to you, too, Ma,” he said with a laugh, walking toward her.

His mom wasn’t amused, keeping her stern look. “I’m serious. You landed, and instead of coming home, you’re off running around? You better not be messing up, boy.”

“I was just seeing a friend,” Zilla replied casually, leaning in to hug her.

“A friend, huh?” she said, her voice dripping with skepticism as she returned the hug. “Since when do ‘friends’ have you sneaking around?”

Zilla chuckled and pulled back, grinning. “You’re so dramatic, Ma. It’s not like that.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “Isayah… you’re a goofball.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said, flashing a playful grin. “I gotta go get dressed, though.”

His mom crossed her arms. “Dressed? You just got here! Where do you think you’re running off to now?”

Zilla grabbed his bag and started walking toward his room. “I’m grabbing breakfast with my friend. Don’t worry, Ma, I won’t be gone long.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” she said, shaking her head as he disappeared down the hall. “You better not be getting into trouble, boy!”

Zilla laughed from his room. “No trouble, Ma. I promise!”

His mom sighed, muttering to herself, “That boy’s always up to something.” But deep down, she was happy to see him. It wasn’t often he made it back home, and despite his antics, she loved having him around.

In his room, Zilla quickly changed into a fresh black hoodie and a pair of ripped jeans. He grabbed his cologne and sprayed a little, glancing at himself in the mirror. “Alright,” he muttered to himself, running a hand over his hair. “Let’s go.”

Before heading out, he stopped in the kitchen where his mom was stirring something on the stove. “I’ll catch you later, Ma.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, not turning around. “Be good, Isayah.”

He kissed her cheek and grinned. “Always.”

With that, he headed out to his car, ready to get back to Dahlia.

—

Zilla leaned back in his chair, taking a long sip of his Coke before setting the glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Man, that was fantastic,” he said, his grin wide.

Dahlia shook her head, laughing. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone go up to the buffet seven times.”

Zilla chuckled, rubbing his stomach. “What can I say? It’s hard to stop when it’s that good.” He leaned in with a smirk. “But I think I pissed some of the abuelitas off.”

Dahlia raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, they definitely gave you the side-eye when you asked for more carnitas, Zilla.”

Zilla laughed, shaking his head. “Fair enough. But hey, call me Isayah from now on. Zilla’s my wrestling name.”

Dahlia paused for a moment, testing it out. “Okay, Isayah,” she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Zilla tilted his head, his grin turning softer as he leaned forward. “That sounds good coming from you.”

Dahlia’s cheeks warmed, and she quickly changed the subject. “So, what’s on the agenda?”

He leaned back, pretending to think. “Hmm, not much planned. What about you?”

“Well,” Dahlia started, twirling her straw in her iced tea, “if you’re up for it, we could go to the Museum of Natural Science. I’ve been wanting to see the King Tut Exhibit.”

Zilla’s eyes lit up. “The King Tut Exhibit? That sounds dope. I haven’t been to a museum since I was a kid!”

Dahlia grinned. “Perfect, then. It’s about time you brushed up on some history.”

Zilla laughed, grabbing his drink for another sip. “Alright, let’s do it. But only if we can hit up the gift shop after. I want a cool magnet or something.”

“Deal,” Dahlia said, her excitement evident.

Zilla grabbed the check from the table, standing up. “Alright then, let’s get outta here before I embarrass myself by going for round eight.”

Dahlia laughed as she grabbed her bag and followed him. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“And you love it,” he teased, holding the door open for her as they stepped out into the warm Houston air, the day ahead of them filled with possibilities.

Zilla held the car door open for Dahlia, his eyes meeting hers with a warm, reassuring smile. She stepped inside, her heart doing a little flip as he gently closed the door behind her. Moments later, Zilla slid into the driver’s seat, adjusting the rearview mirror before pulling out of the parking lot. The soft hum of the car’s engine mixed with the quiet tones of the radio as they made their way toward the Museum of Natural Science.

The sun had begun its descent, painting the Houston skyline with streaks of gold and amber. As they waited at a stoplight, Zilla reached over, his hand brushing hers before settling on top of it. Dahlia glanced at him, her breath catching slightly at the softness in his smile. She let their fingers intertwine, feeling a sense of calm she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You look excited,” Zilla said, his voice teasing but kind.

“I am,” Dahlia admitted. “I’ve been wanting to see this exhibit for weeks.”

“Then let’s make it memorable,” Zilla replied, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before returning it to the wheel.

When they arrived, the museum was alive with quiet chatter and the soft shuffle of feet. Dahlia practically bounced as they entered the King Tut Exhibit, her enthusiasm contagious. Zilla followed her lead, taking in the intricate artifacts and detailed stories of ancient Egypt.

“This is wild,” he said, leaning closer to read the description of a golden sarcophagus. “Imagine living back then. They really believed you’d take all this with you to the afterlife?”

Dahlia chuckled. “You’re not a history buff, are you?”

“I’m learning,” he replied with a grin. “But I think they might’ve gone overboard with the gold.”

She laughed, her eyes lighting up as she shared stories about the artifacts. Zilla listened intently, occasionally cracking a joke that left her giggling. It wasn’t just the exhibit that made the evening special; it was the way he made her feel—like she was the only person in the room.

After a couple of hours, they stepped out of the museum to find the city bathed in the deep orange and pink hues of the setting sun. The air was warm and soft, the perfect end to a perfect day.

“This is beautiful,” Dahlia murmured, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

Zilla tilted his head, studying her profile for a moment. “It really is,” he said, his voice low, “but I think you’ve got it beat.”

Dahlia turned to him, rolling her eyes with a laugh. “Cheesy much?”

“Always,” he shot back with a grin.

They decided to take a walk, the streets quiet and peaceful as the day faded into evening. Dahlia felt herself relaxing, every moment with Zilla making her heart feel lighter. She didn’t think she’d stop smiling until a sudden burst of squeals interrupted them.

“Oh my God, it’s Zilla Fatu!”

A group of girls, barely older than Dahlia, rushed toward them. Zilla blinked in surprise but quickly turned on his easy charm, signing autographs and posing for pictures.

“Can I get a selfie?” one of the girls asked, her phone already in hand.

“Of course,” Zilla said, leaning down slightly to fit into the frame.

What started as a small group quickly grew as more fans recognized him. Dahlia found herself stepping back, giving the crowd space. She tried to stay close, but the excitement of the fans pushed her farther and farther away until she was practically invisible.

Eventually, she gave up and sat on a nearby bench, her smile fading as she watched Zilla laugh and interact with the crowd. It wasn’t jealousy—it was something deeper, a reminder of how small she felt in his world.

After what felt like forever, Zilla finally noticed her. His eyes scanned the crowd before landing on her slouched figure, and his smile faltered.

“Alright, y’all,” he said, raising a hand. “That’s it for me tonight. I gotta go.”

The fans groaned in protest, but Zilla stayed firm, offering a final wave before weaving his way through the thinning crowd.

When he reached her, he crouched in front of the bench, his face full of concern. “Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”

Dahlia shrugged, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. You didn’t have to cut them off.”

“Of course I did,” Zilla replied, his tone serious. “I’m here with you, Dahlia. I didn’t realize it got so crazy.”

She looked away, biting her lip. “It’s fine. I get it. They caught your eyes..”

Zilla reached for her hand, his fingers wrapping around hers. “Not as much as you have my heart right now...”

Dahlia’s breath hitched, her eyes snapping back to his. She searched his face, half-expecting him to laugh it off, but all she saw was sincerity.

“You mean that?” she asked, her voice laced with flattery.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ve never felt like this with anyone, Dahlia. I don’t want you to feel like you’re in the background. Not with me.”

She blinked rapidly, willing herself not to cry. Instead, she squeezed his hand and stood, pulling him up with her.

“Come on,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “Let’s finish this walk.”

Zilla smiled, slipping his arm around her shoulders as they strolled down the quiet street. The crowd, the museum, even the sunset—it all faded away. In that moment, it was just the two of them, and Dahlia felt, for the first time, like she wasn’t just a fleeting moment in someone’s life. She was part of something real, something that might just last.

—

A couple of days later, on Friday, May 2nd, Zilla kissed his mom goodbye as he boarded the plane. It was always bittersweet leaving home, but the thrill of the road kept him focused. The engine roared to life, and once it was safe to connect to the WiFi, Zilla quickly paid for the service, his thoughts already drifting to Dahlia.

He tapped out a quick message: I miss you already.

It didn’t take long for Dahlia to reply: We’ve been together every night ;)

Zilla smiled, his heart skipping a beat. He replied: I’m looking at the pictures and smiling.

Dahlia’s message came back almost instantly: Which one is your favorite?

Zilla leaned back in his seat, scrolling through the photos they had taken over the past few days. Each one was a snapshot of their time together, a memory he couldn’t let go of. His eyes lingered on the one where she had kissed his neck, her lips soft and teasing, her eyes filled with mischief. He grinned as he typed: The one of you kissing my neck.

Dahlia’s response was playful: You are such a flirt.

Zilla chuckled, shaking his head as he replied: Only for you.

They continued texting, Zilla feeling lighter with every message. He couldn’t help but be happy he’d finally listened to his cousin’s advice about taking things with Dahlia slow but steady. His heart felt full in a way it hadn’t in a long time, and he was glad to have someone who made him feel at ease.

A few hours later, the plane touched down in Sacramento, California. Zilla grabbed his bags and made his way off the plane, ready to get back to work. He pulled out his phone and called Joseph.

“Yo, I’m at the airport. You here?”

Joseph’s voice came through the phone loud and clear: “I’m in the SUV already, man. I’m waiting for you up front.”

Zilla hung up and headed toward the front of the airport, eager to catch up with his cousin. As he stepped outside, he saw Joseph’s SUV, and both Joseph and Jacob waved at him.

He climbed into the back seat and slammed the door shut.

Jacob smirked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s got you all in a happy mood?”

Zilla couldn’t help but grin, his mind still on Dahlia. “Just… something special.”

Joseph laughed. “Don’t tell me, you’re falling for her already?”

Zilla shot him a playful look. “Maybe. Maybe not. But it’s good, man.”

Jacob gave him a teasing glance in the rearview mirror. “Good? I’ll bet. You’re practically glowing.”

Zilla smiled, settling into the seat as they drove off. For the first time in a long time, things felt right.

—

As Friday Night SmackDown roared on, the backstage area was buzzing with energy. Zilla sat in the locker room, taping up his hands with precision. The excitement coursed through him as he prepared for his match against Sami Zayn later that night. This match was a big deal, being part of the heated Roman vs. Solo feud, and Zilla was ready to prove himself once again.

He looked up as the door opened, and in walked his cousin Jey Uso, holding the Money in the Bank briefcase he’d won at WrestleMania 41. The gold shimmered under the fluorescent lights, a constant reminder of Jey’s climb to the top.

“Hey, Uce!” Jey greeted, extending his hand.

Zilla stood up and shook his hand firmly. “What’s good, Uso? How are you? And how’s your gothic wife?”

Jey burst into laughter, shaking his head as he leaned the briefcase against the wall. “Awh, shit, Rhea’s doing good. She’s about twenty-three weeks along now.”

Zilla smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Twenty-three weeks? Damn, you really finna’ be a dad at almost forty?”

Jey rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t fade. “Man, don’t play me like that. I still got it.”

Zilla chuckled, gesturing to the briefcase. “Yeah, I see. Winning Money in the Bank and keeping up with Rhea? You might just be Superman.”

Jey shrugged, crossing his arms. “What can I say? It’s all about balance. But enough about me—what’s up with you? Ready to take on Sami tonight?”

Zilla nodded, his expression growing serious. “Always ready. Sami’s good, but I’m better. This match? It’s mine.”

Jey clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s what I like to hear. Keep that energy, Uce. We all watching.”

Zilla grinned, the fire in his eyes unmistakable. “You know I’m bringing it.”

Jey leaned against the lockers, watching his cousin finish prepping. “By the way, you gotta bring that girl of yours to the next family BBQ. Everyone’s asking.”

Zilla paused, smirking. “Dahlia? Yeah, maybe. We’ll see how things go. She’s kinda shy.”

Jey chuckled. “Shy? She with you, ain’t she? She’ll fit right in. Bring her by; Rhea’ll keep her company.”

Zilla nodded, finishing the last wrap on his hands. “I’ll think about it. But first, I gotta handle business tonight.”

Jey pushed off the locker and grabbed his briefcase. “Handle it, then. I’ll catch you later, Uce.”

As Jey walked out of the room, Zilla couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. His family was watching, and tonight, he was ready to make them proud.

—

After Zilla’s match, he found himself in a bar with Jacob, Alipate, Joseph, and Jey. They were all having a great time, drinking and laughing together. Jey, in particular, was excited, showing a video to Joseph of Rhea’s belly kicking. Zilla couldn’t help but smile at the family moment. The alcohol had started to hit him, and by the time he realized it, he was feeling pretty buzzed, maybe even a bit more than that.

“I’m gonna go hit the bathroom,” Zilla muttered, standing up from the table.

He made his way to the back of the bar, relieved himself, and washed his hands. As he exited the bathroom, not paying much attention to his surroundings, he heard a voice call out.

“Fresh Meat.”

Zilla turned and saw Jaida Parker standing there, a smirk on her face.

“Ha, real funny,” he said, trying to cover his surprise.

Jaida raised an eyebrow, her playful grin still there. “How’s SmackDown treating you?”

“It’s treating me real good,” Zilla replied. “Did you get called up too?”

Jaida nodded. “Yeah, didn’t you catch my match earlier?”

Zilla chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry, I didn’t.”

Jaida’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “What, you don’t wanna dance?”

Zilla was about to answer when he felt a slight buzz take over, the alcohol clouding his better judgment. He thought about Dahlia for a second, but something about Jaida’s confidence made him hesitate.

“I’m a little tipsy,” Zilla said with a small laugh, but Jaida didn’t seem to mind.

She stepped closer to him, and in an instant, she took his hand with a playful glint in her eyes.

“It’s pretty easy to guide someone,” Jaida said smoothly. “Come on.”

Before Zilla could protest, she pulled him toward the dance floor. He followed her, unsure of what he was doing but caught up in the moment. The music around them thumped, loud and exciting, and Jaida began to sway to the rhythm.

Zilla, still a little unsure of himself, hesitated. “I told you, I’m not much of a dancer.”

Jaida laughed, glancing back at him. “Good thing I can carry this whole dance for us, Fresh Meat,” she teased.

Zilla couldn’t help but chuckle despite the growing sense of unease. As Jaida moved closer, guiding him to match her rhythm, Zilla felt the pull of the night, the alcohol, and the attention, but a part of him wondered if this was the right direction.

[anonnnnwriter]

Melancholy pt. 3

Satoru Gojo (JJK) x Reader (You!) x Suguru Geto (JJK) (Platonic Relationship! You were all good friends during your high school years.)

mel·an·chol·y /ˈmel(ə)nˌkälē/ noun a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause. except, in this case, there is one. It's December 24th, a day of mourning. You reminisce about the memories you've shared with Suguru Getou, only to realize you are not alone.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Life's Ensuing Rendezvous

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

        "Wow, time flies, doesn't it?" Gojo looked up at the sky. He let out a small gasp as a snowflake landed on his nose. "And it's snowing too, fitting for this time of year, right?" He inquired as he took his hand from his coat's pocket to wipe the snowflake off his nose. However, you didn't reply as you stared back into the distant horizon. Gojo hummed and leaned down to your level, squinting his eyes. "Are you spaced out or something? Hey." He flicked the side of your head, which made you cringe. "Ow!" you replied with a hiss. "Satoru, don't do that!"

        "I asked you something," he pouted. "You didn't answer, so I figured that would catch your attention." He grinned. "A flick on the side of my head? Seriously? You haven't changed at all, Satoru." You sighed and complained, rubbing where he had flicked. "Do you think Getou would've liked spending time here with us?" Gojo suddenly asked, which made you furrow your brows in shock. A momentary silence befell the both of you. "Yeah," you finally replied. "I think he would've if... if he weren't a Jujutsu Sorcerer—if we all weren't one."

        "Yeah, you're right," he answered with a sigh embedded in his words. The momentary silence returned once again as you two caught your breath and admired the vibrant colors of Kyoto during the night and the various sounds that came along with the season. "Hey, Gojo?" You grabbed his attention. "Yeah?" he replied. "Thanks for accompanying me and reminiscing about our teenage years." You spoke with gratitude towards his action, which took an expression of surprise and pondering from Satoru. "It's no big deal," he murmured, scratching his head. "It's nice once in a while not to mourn alone in this specific spot, same time, same hour."

        "Huh?" you exclaimed in surprise. "You do this, too? Talk about destiny and fate pulling the strings behind the scenes," you murmured to yourself. Satoru snickered at the sentence. "Yeah, it's funny. Sometimes I forget I'm not the only one who dreads this day," he replied. "A little selfish of me, but I'm working on it."

        "Attempt is all that matters," you comforted the taller man beside you. All he did was nod and close his eyes. "Wanna grab a bite?" he inquired in his old-fashioned way. "All of this moping has me starving. Let's enjoy this day in his stead," Satoru proposed. Your sad eyes sparkled as he attempted to lighten the mood. "Where are we going?" you asked. "To the sweets shop! We've got to lighten up the night, yeah? I could go for some Tiramisu or some Kikufuku," his eyes landed again on you, those insufferable yet beautiful eyes comforting that lingering woe in your heart. "Are you in?"

        "Yeah," you replied somewhat absentmindedly. "You lead, and you're paying." Your statement got him to groan and complain.

        Somewhere in the distance, gentle brown eyes gazed upon the two of you. A smile accompanied that figure who chased the silhouettes of Satoru Gojo and yourself. Only briefly did you feel the presence of someone you yearned to see once more. Words whispered in the air with a familiar tune and voice. Just like it arrived, it vanished.

        "Don't do anything stupid now, you two. Merry Christmas."

        What is mourning? Mourning is the term we all use for deep sadness over someone who has moved on from our lives, whether passed away or suddenly lost contact. Mourning is also coming to terms with acceptance, living your life to the fullest with the essence of that person who marked your life for many days, weeks, months, and maybe years and cycles to come.

        It's alright to be melancholic and yearn for a possibility you wish you had. It's okay to feel sorrow, but life is an ensuing rendezvous, not stopping for anyone. At some point in your life, you will reunite with Suguru Getou and spend your blue days beside him with Satoru Gojo and the rest of your former classmates.

        You must continue living for him and leaving a mark in your daily life and the Jujutsu Sorcery world. That's what he would have wanted for Gojo and you.

Pt. 1 || Pt. 2 || Pt. 3 (You're here!)

Divider made by Celcero.

[toytoriyadorm]

Prologue 

The celebration of childhood has begun…

In a world far more twisted than ours lies a blonde teen sleeping in bed, with his familiar lying right next to him. As darkness envelops his vision, a scene begins to play in his head. A group of lost toys are greeted by a paradise– a daycare– where children come to play with objects like them everyday. Among them is a space ranger who’s effects and details have been scratched out with time, a dinosaur whose tail looks twisted, and a cowgirl and cowboy. The latter’s gold badge still shines as if it were new. 

A yellow truck rolls up to them, with a pink teddy bear inside. “Well, hello there!” He sings with a cheerful tune before hopping off the vehicle. “I thought I heard new voices! Welcome to Sunnyside!”

As the stuffed animal gives the space ranger a hug, the scene shifts to a play area, as the toys get ready for a day of fun. Excitement spreads across the dinosaur's face as he runs towards the door, excited to have new playmates after such a long time…

++++

Heavy eyelids give way to a pair of dark blue pupils. Wiping away the tiredness, the teen gets up and looks at his dead clock. He stares at it, proceeding to grab the watch lying next to it. He glances at the time. 

7:30 AM

He blinks twice.

“GRIM! Get up! Get up now!” With a rush of energy, the student throws himself forward and climbs off the bed.

“Nyegh…What is it Yuukei-YEOWCH!” The familiar’s, Grim, flames shoot upwards as Yuukei’s foot tramples on his poor tail. “Watch where you’re stepping!” 

“Sorry!” Yuukei mutters as he scrambles off the worn bed, looking for his school uniform. “But we’re gonna be late!” 

It’s been a few months since Yuukei landed himself in Twisted Wonderland after his “incident” with a few street robbers and the odd encounter with the Night Raven College’s magic carriage. Despite dealing with less-than-average grades, a certain green-haired student who will simply not shut up, and saving the school from destruction by teens who have never gone to therapy, he’s managed quite the stable life for himself. 

“My beanie…my beanie… Aha!” The blonde teen exclaimed as he lifted the worn hat off the floor and put it atop his head. 

“When are you gonna throw that thing? It’s starting to look raggedy.” Grim said as he picked up his ribbon.

“Uh, never!” He nabbed the fabric off Grim’s hands and quickly began to tie it around the animal’s neck. “My uncle gave it to me.”

“Nyeh, the uncle that called you a jerk?”

“No, no. The one that's not technically my relative, remember? He used to live a few blocks from me. It's practically my own family heirloom now!” He finished the bow with a satisfied grin, “Now let's go before Professor Crewel decides to make us clean the cauldrons!”

Grim jumped onto Yuukei’s shoulders as the teen grabbed his bag. The two ran out the door into the winter morning and towards the giant school of NRC. During the fall months, the school would have resembled some kind of haunted castle. But with winter, the sparkling snow has complimented the area’s prestigious aesthetic rather well.

“Too bad I can’t stick around to look at all the snow…” Yuukei thinks, as he runs up the flights of stairs and into the school. However, instead of the lively halls he was accustomed to, the Ramshackle student was surprised to be met with almost empty halls. 

“Ehh?” Grim mumbled, “Did they start classes early or somethin’?” 

“They would have made an announcement if that happened…” Yuukei replied, as they walked around the school halls. Still, even the classrooms had no students, and the two still haven’t seen any of their other first year friends.

It wasn’t until the third floor that a familiar voice called out to them. “Yuu, over here!” Yuukei spun his head to see Ace and what appeared to be a large crowd behind him. “Man, you might wanna take a look at this.” 

Pushing past the cluster of gossiping students, Yuukei and Grim manage to get to the front of the blockade. They stare, mouths agape, at the scene in front of them. 

CHAPTER 1: Welcome to Memory Lane!

The hall, which would normally match the college’s clean yet moody atmosphere, was decked from wall to wall with pastel decor. Streamers, confetti, stickers, and what looks to be paint have made its way across the floor and somehow stuck to the ceiling. And the normal club posters that scattered across the bulletin board were replaced with blindingly white posters, the title “Festival of Memories” covering them with an equally horrendous font. Right in the middle of it were two students in pastel pink dorm colors having a screaming match.

In far more simpler terms, it was a mess that not even Yuukei could conjure up. He opened his mouth to ask who had done this when a certain hot-headed dorm leader answered for him. Riddle Rosehearts, appalled by the scene in front of him, gripped one of the posters so hard Yuukei thought the shorter man was going to rip it to shreds.

“Those accursed Toytoriya students!”

Riddle looked like he was going to overblot all over again, as he and the crowd gazed upon the mess in the hallway. Alerted by the noise, a few more students joined the group. 

Yuukei spoke, “Toytoriya? Is that some kind of new brand or somethin’?”

A familiar, smooth voice answered the question, “As hilarious as that would be, little potato, I’m afraid you’re wrong.”

Vil and Leona popped up behind Riddle, fascinated and horrified at the sight in front of them. “Toytoriya, the dorm of imagination, finally crawled out of its study hole, and it looks like their Festival of Dreams appeared with it.” Vil scoffs.

Grim chimes in with his own questions, “Festival of Dreams?? Toytoriya?? Nya, you gotta give us more details here!” 

Pomefiore’s leader let out a sigh, seeing that Riddle looked far too angry to give any exposition. “Toytoriya’s not too different from other dorms if you don’t count their ugly flair to things. But instead of something simple like a potion competition to choose dorm leadership, these theater kids’ leaders are chosen based on their experience with stageplays.”

Grim looks towards the two arguing first years, “I still don’t get it, ain’t it just auditioning? Why the need for crazy advertising?”

Leona yawned before adding in, “That’s what you’d think, but it turns out Toytoriya’s takes their creativity bit way too seriously. Turns out they have a deal with the Headmaster where they get the school’s colosseum for a single weekend during the entire year. They end up setting up everything from food stalls to fireworks. It’s like a glorified version of VDC!” He smirks.

“Glorified? Don’t be silly.” Vil counters, “VDC is complex, hard to train for, and is known worldwide unless you live under a rock. But that accursed festival? It’s nothing more than a bunch of fools prancing around on stage. Remember the 2nd place winner last year?”

“Who doesn’t? The guy was so bad that I voted for Lotsie.” Leona’s nose suddenly crinkles in disgust, “Speak of the Devil…”

“Excuse me! Sorry!” A light and dreamy voice arose from the crowd. Quickly, the group dispersed, allowing a pink-haired man to walk through, cane in hand. As he got closer, Yuukei smelled a whiff of strawberry perfume– likely what’s causing Leona’s face to scrunch up.

“I messed up my foot while casting a spell yesterday,” The man, presumably Lotsie, began, “so next thing you know I have to find my cane! And then I forget how far the entrance portal is and get driven to the dorm entrance and-“ 

“WILLIAM HUGGINS.” Riddle grabbed the student’s shirt and pointed towards the mess behind him, “What are you going to do about this?” 

“Ahh, the hall… Wow, those two first years seriously went all out!” 

Your first years, Huggins. Your first years went all out.” Riddle let out an exasperated sigh. “Your birthday may be coming up, but that does not make you nor your dorm exempt from destroying the school’s halls!” 

Lotsie’s form shrinked back, despite him being almost a head taller than Heartslabyul’s leader. “I know! I’m sorry! But they’re first years, and it’s their first time doing all this stuff! I just wanted them to have fun!” 

Riddle seemed to calm down with Lotsie’s explanation, bits of rage red withdrawing from the 2nd year’s face. “Fine, fine, I won’t report this time. But get this stuff cleaned up before lunch! And by the great eight, Lotsie, get your group together. And yourself together for that matter, you’re almost a fourth year, so act like it!”

“...Yes, sir!” Lotsie said with a nervous smile.

“And the rest of you,” Riddle turned to the crowd of gawking students, “it's best you leave now, unless you plan to all get detention.”

And with that, the crowd dispersed to avoid the wrath of Riddle. Thus, leaving Lotsie, Yuukei, Grim, and the two first year students who caused this mess.

CHAPTER 2: Child’s Argument 

“Oh! You’re Ramshackle’s prefect!” Lotsie exclaimed, finally noticing Yuukei. He glanced at Grim. “And that’s your..?”

“Master!” Grim answered with his usual smirk. Lotsie replied with a sad smile. “Ah, I’m so embarrassed that you two witnessed all that! I hope your impression of me wasn’t too damaged…” 

“Ehh, not too much,” Yuukei scratched his head, “it's not your fault after all, that goes to the two sitting down over there.”

“I suppose you’re right. Although, now that you’ve brought it up…” The pink haired man’s voice trailed, as the trio looked at the students who caused the whole mess. They appear to have calmed down, now sitting away from each other on the messy floor.

Lotsie walks up to them and squats down. “Winston, Zackery, do either of you want to tell me what hap-”

The first year donning a side ponytail pointed towards the other, “It’s all his fault! He brought out a bunch of drones and started chucking paint and confetti all over the place!”

The second one, with striking purple hair and red eyes, gasped, “How dare thee?! King Huggins, this slandering hero is made up of lies! I, Zackery Heidrich the 3rd, may pride myself on my villainy, but I dare not throw that blame onto someone else! Not to mention, the hero was the one who thought it’d be a good idea to start plastering those ugly paintings on the walls!”

Yuukei and Grim looked at each other in confusion as Winston gritted his teeth, “Ugly?! The hell’s that supposed to mean?!”

“You know what it means, you bumpkin hero! Everyone in the kingdom of toys knows you can’t draw, much less make a poster! My minions could do a better job and they’re not even fully programmed yet!”

Their arguing started up once more, with Lotsie’s pleas to stop falling on deaf ears. From Yuukei’s point of view, the scene reminds him of a teacher trying to console two children. He could hear Grim snicker behind him. Suddenly, an idea pops up in the blonde teen’s mind. 

“Does it matter who did what?” He began, “The two of you are still gonna have to clean this stuff up together. Unless you plan to make your poor dorm leader pick up the slack for you…”

In the corner of Yuukei’s eye, he sees Lotsie’s confused look. He shoots a glance back towards the pink-haired man. 

Lotsie catches on and sighs. “Oh, I suppose I will have to clean all this stuff up… with my poor leg too… If only my underclassmen could stop fighting-”

“We’ll clean up!” The two yell in unison, not wanting to disappoint the dorm leader they look up to. Before Lotsie could say anymore, the two sped off to look for the janitor’s closet. 

“Oh, thank the eight, and you!” He turned to Yuukei and Grim. “The student body was right, Ramshackle’s new students really are a godsend! How did you know to do that with those two?” 

“It's nothing much!” Yuukei replied, “Back home, I have a lot of younger cousins that argue a lot, and my aunt would usually play the pity card to make them stop. Their fighting just reminded me of them!”

“Well, I’m glad your aunt taught you such a good trick! I wouldn’t have thought of something so creative!”

“Hah? That doesn’t make sense, aren’t you literally the leader of the dorm of imagination or something like that?” Grim asks?

Lotsie giggles nervously, “Yes, I am. But I don’t have much experience with being a mediator in arguments, just one of those adult things I never came to understand. Still! At least now we can get to class quicker.” Toytoriya’s dorm leader looked towards the classrooms.

“Ah! I totally forgot about my textbooks!” He exclaimed and snapped his head to Yuukei, “I’m so sorry to ask, but could you watch over Winston and Zackery while they clean? They’re usually really fast, but I don’t want them devolving into another fight.”

“I mean, I guess I can-”

“Thank you so much! And I’ll make it up to you, I swear!” Lotsie promised. “And if you have any stuff, just come on over to Toytoriya and hand it to me!” 

As Yuukei’s classmates come back with mops and buckets in hand, Lotsie quickly thanks them and leaves. Before the trio could begin, however, Zackery snatched the mop from Yuukei’s hands.

“Hey, what’s the big idea?” Grim demanded.

“Hmph! Worry not to tiring yourselves out, Ramshackle civilians! My totally evil drones will clean up this place in a jiffy!” 

“You and those darn robots again!” Winston exclaimed, sponge in hand, “What really gets things clean is just doing the work by hand!”

“Hah! Does the hero dare challenge my minions to another game of who’s faster?” 

“You bet I do!”

As the two begin scrubbing the floors and tearing down streamers from the ceiling with a great fervor, Yuukei begins to understand how the hallway got to its messy state in the first place.

CHAPTER 3: Pocket Watch

Lotsie certainly wasn’t lying when he said the first years could get the hallway done fast, but Yuukei couldn’t tell if that's because of the amount of drones Zackery had come in or the sheer drive Winston had to get the place looking spotless. Either way, the hallway was clean with 3 minutes to spare till classes began.

Grim noticed something sparkling on the floor, and picked it up. “Myeh, Yuukei, look what I found’.” The beast handed the item to his henchman, who looked it over.

“A pocket watch?” Yuukei muttered as he pressed the button on the silver timepiece’s top. Inside, nothing looked to be working. 

“Hey, I think you guys forgot a prop…” Yuukei turned to face Toytoriya’s first years only for them to have already sped down the corridor. “Crap, what time is it? C’mon Grim, we’ll just give this thing to Winston later!” 

Running into the classroom right on time, the rest of the duo’s day passed uneventfully, save for Ace and Deuce whispering to them about the spectacular mess from that morning. 

“So…what were they like?” Ace asked the blonde classmate during lunchtime, his usual smirk lying right on his face. 

“What was what like?” Yuukei asked back, half of his tray being devoured by Grim.

“Those guys from Toytoriya, duh!” Ace scoffed. “Are they weird like everyone says they are? Or are they just super immature?”

“C’mon Ace, it's rude to talk about your classmates in such a way.” Deuce’s eyebrows furrowed. “Although, I’m also interested in the students from that dorm. I don’t think any Toytoriya students made it into our class, so I’ve never really got to know any of them…”

“Well, they’re a little immature, sure,” Yuukei pondered earlier that day, “But I wouldn’t call them weird, maybe just super eccentric!”

“So… they’re weird.” 

“Why’s it matter to you?” Grim interrupts, “We gotta head over to their dorm to give ‘em something back. Why not meet them yourselves and follow us in!” 

He takes another bite of Yuukei’s food as the Heartslabyul duo look at him. “Really?! We’re allowed to go in just like that?” Ace exclaimed. 

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t you?”

“NRC’s second years have all kinds of stories about that dorm. Like, scary ones! They say if you sneak in or out of the dorm without permission, you’ll go crazy!” 

Yuukei raises an eyebrow, “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m serious!” Ace argued, before leaning close and whispering, “A few days ago, I saw a Heartslabyul student get returned from Toytoriya during the night. Apparently, he broke something while trying to sneak into the dorm. He looked fine, he just said the dorm’s leader gave him a real good talking-to. But the next day, the guy had a full-blown breakdown! Everyone says it's because of Toytoriya’s put a curse on him!”

“Wasn’t that a myth? N-Not that I listen to any conspiracy theories in the school,” Deuce coughs. “The nurse checked him and said he must be having bad sleep problems.”

“What kind of sleep is able to do something like that?!” 

“The real restless kind, I bet.” Yuukei says. “Anyways, I’ll just go with Grim’s idea and bring you guys along. Their dorm leader’s crazy nice, I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.”

| >

[muscari-midala]

Congratulations!

David 8 x Reader Words: 1144 Crossposted on Ao3 Crackfic Happy Birthday David ❤️ Idea from: @theropoda and @lehnsharrk

"Your Weyland-Corp package will be delivered in approximately 15 minutes."

Wow, that was fast! You had entered an online competition to become one of the beta-testers for the first model of their Home-Android line, and luck must have been on your side, because you actually won!

Putting your phone down, you scrambled through your room, hurriedly pulling on something more presentable than pajamas and hastily combing your hair into place.

Frantically running through your apartment, you tried to clear away stray clothes and dishes. You were so caught up in tidying that you almost tripped as the doorbell rang.

Sure, the Android was technically designed to help with housekeeping, but the delivery person didn’t need to know just how much you actually needed it.

Opening the door, you were greeted by a large cardboard box perched on a trolley, nearly obscuring the man in a green Weyland uniform and matching cap as he peeked out from behind it, checking his clipboard.

"Y/N L/N. Is that correct?"

You nodded, stepping aside to let him wheel the massive package into your living room. Once it was set down, he handed you an impressively thick manual and tapped on its cover.

"Here’s the QR code for the app. Please use it to send feedback or report any issues you encounter."

With a grunt of effort, he hefted the package off the trolley, left it in the middle of your living room, and exited your apartment without another word.

What.

Blinking, you stood frozen for a moment before heading to the kitchen to grab a pair of scissors. With a decisive stab into the parcel tape, you sliced through the middle of the box.

Inside was a beautiful man- wait, no. Android. Oh. A very beautiful Android.

You flicked through the manual, scanning for activation instructions. Ah, here it was. To activate, press a small sensor located behind his right ear for five seconds.

Taking a breath, you reached out and pressed the spot. Moments later, his eyes opened, and after a brief pause, his gaze locked onto yours.

Now he was the one blinking, his brows furrowing slightly as he began testing his limbs. With deliberate movements, he stepped out of the box.

“Good day, Ma’am,” he said in a voice that was smooth, polite, and just a touch mechanical. “My name is David 1. I will serve as your assistant and companion, ready to assist you with whatever you may require.”

He extended a hand, stiff but purposeful. “May I ask what I should call you?”

And that's how daily life with David began.

It was really weird to configure your timezone for something that looked so human, and to enter a PIN code for him via an app??

And the ads. You weren’t safe from ads, either. Sometimes, when he didn’t have anything to do, he would just stand around or sit on the couch and start citing commercials.

The first time it happened, you almost spat out the tea he had made for you beforehand.

“Would you like to renew your Audible subscription? The first three months are only $0.99.”

As you choked on your beverage, David stared at you apologetically before quickly getting up and patting your back to help.

“Sorry, (Y/N), I didn’t mean to surprise you. You can turn it off with the Premium Subscription for $19.99 per month.”

Putting your cup down, still coughing, you turned to him.

“I have to pay for that? Seriously?”

He just shrugged, his face imitating an :I emoji.

After a while, you noticed that even David got annoyed by the interruptions, disliking how your conversations were suddenly stopped by yet another commercial for shaving cream.

The two of you made it your mission to bypass ads with free trials he found online. He even read your books to you instead of you paying for another damn subscription.

HelloFresh? He grew vegetables on your windowsill. Man, he was amazing at making fresh pasta.

“FOR FUCK'S SAKE, I DON’T WANT YOUTUBE PREMIUM! THIS APP SHOULD BE ABLE TO PLAY VIDEOS IN THE BACKGROUND WITHOUT ME PAYING FOR IT!”

You shouted in frustration. The ads were SO annoying, and you couldn’t turn them off!

David blinked, and for a moment you thought he had lagged as he processed your words. Then he answered.

“If you give me permission via verbal verification, I could enter the darknet and download an adblock mod. It’s a bit risky, but my firewall should be sufficient to withstand any viruses.”

You hesitated, not wanting to risk his functionality. But when he one day started quoting a Viagra advertisement like those on Tumblr, you caved.

“Please enter the darknet and find that mod. I can’t take this anymore.”

So he did. And you got really fucking scared for a moment, because one of his eyes twitched and stayed half-open, like your old dolls when you tilted them sideways. Oh shit, did you break him? Please, please, please no- oh. Oh God.

He needed a second to install and initialize. His expression reminded you of your Furby with dying batteries that suddenly came to life in the middle of the night, croaking its last words. But after another minute, he was fine.

This action had some side effects, though.

He still worked perfectly - cleaning the dishes, doing the laundry, watering the plants, until he suddenly called you a donkey while you were cooking. With an awfully familiar voice.

You stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“That wasn’t me,” he replied in his normal voice, furrowing his brows.

Nodding slowly, you turned back to add meat to your sauce, only to be interrupted by:

“Why did the chicken cross the road? Because you didn’t fucking cook it!”

Instead of getting annoyed, you broke down laughing, and even David couldn’t hide a grin as he watched you sink to the kitchen floor.

“I seem to have caught a serious case of Gordon Ramsay.”

That was it. you were officially cackling like a hen. On the ground. Crying.

It wasn’t so bad, really. He functioned just fine, even though he occasionally squawked like a bird at random. But you just squawked right back. Just normal ADHD things, to be honest.

At the end of the day, he became your illegally modded roommate, sitting with you on the couch, your legs sprawled over his lap as you both munched on popcorn.

You still weren’t entirely sure where the food he sometimes ate with you went, but you decided not to question it.

Weyland never got their Android back, you hid him in your closet that one time they tried to collect him after the testing period was over.

“I have the power of God and anime on my side,” your favorite person declared.

“Yes, David, you do,” you replied with a smile.

~The End~

[nothingleftofyou]

Still doesn't believe it though. Stefan didn't know for sure if it was possible or not, but he did think Klaus was capable of trying if the man let himself. "Yeah." He said finally, tone stilted and plaintive. It was the finality of their situation, and for all Stefan accepted it it still hurt the same. "She chose Damon." Hell, she wouldn't have fallen in love with Damon if Stefan's love had been enough. It just... hadn't been. Elena and Katherine too, they liked the idealized version of him that Stefan tried to be. Then, when he didn't live up to the version of himself he wanted to be, there was no one to blame but himself.

"Worked against you, once or twice." It was probably a low blow if Klaus didn't find it amusing, and truthfully Stefan could never find a grip on where Klaus stood regarding much of anything. Back in Chicago, as the ripper, the memories coming back at once made them impossible to ignore. So Stefan couldn't forget how that unpredictable nature of Klaus's was intriguing, how it was always so curious to see what reaction he would garner. The man always managed to surprise him one way or another.

Stefan guffawed. "You aren't wrong," It was actually kind of hilarious in the irony of it all. Klaus was utterly correct, if he let himself fall off the wagon and turn off his humanity then chasing Silas and ruining him would be a whole lot easier. He wouldn't be having flashes of his watery grave, wouldn't have so much resentment for the loved ones who failed him, would actually be able to FUNCTION. It was the easiest way out. "But if I turn it off, then he wins." There was no world where Silas didn't presume Stefan would be turning off his humanity to survive the pain, and it was that same assumption that made Stefan so desperate to hold on. He took a swing of his drink, needing any possible distraction to take his mind away from the immortal doppleganger.

"You really would have come if I asked you, even for Damon? Who you hate?" Stefan was skeptical. "I'm not convinced." He didn't hold the same weight of Caroline in Klaus's esteem, for that Stefan was certain. "And I couldn't risk you saying no." Not with Damon's life on the line. Klaus stepped closer and his mind jilted with the crystal clear image. Hello my shadow self. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to will the image away, unable to meet Klaus's eyes. For all Stefan couldn't read Klaus, Klaus could always read him to filth. It was why any successful deceit was so few and far between. "Would you have?" He bit the words out, hoping Klaus would mistake the audible reaction to the question rather then something else. "If I asked you to come from New Orleans to Mystic Falls to save the life of someone you hate, would you have? For me?"

He had to force himself not to roll his eyes at the lecture that Stefan was barely able to pretend was supposed to be encouragement. Klaus knew that he wasn't the devil. In fact, if he wanted to be, he was certain that he could be much worse than any devil ever dared to dream they could be, but out of respect for Stefan's soft disposition he'd keep that to himself for now. "Yes, yes, even the big bad can be redeemed, I've heard it all before, mate." He wasn't being obstinate just for the fun of it, he just didn't really believe the shite Stefan was pedaling him. Redemption was for those that wanted to be saved and he was just fine being the immortal bad guy.

"Something like that?" he repeated, chuckling at the coy response. "It's either that or it's not, there's not really a gray area in these situations, mate." But for Stefan there was, wasn't there? Knowing him, he was going to bow out gracefully and let Damon and Elena coexist in their den of the most boring sin imaginable while Stefan suffered in silence, ever the hero. The whole thing made him want to vomit. This is why the Mikaelsons stabbed first and whined later when they were cross with one another. At least it wasn't yawn inducing.

A scoff bubbled out of his lips next and Klaus shook his head. "Deception has never been your strong suit, Stefan. We both know that you've always had two interests in this world that would take your mind off all of this but you can't take off your goody two shoes long enough to let yourself indulge. Blood and sin. I saw it in the 20's, the gleam in your eye when you finally let go. It's what you like." He pursed his lips as he considered the follow up words and he shrugged. "Blood and sin, Stefan. Best way I've found to take down an enemy. Morality gets in the way."

One eyebrow went up at the follow up statement and Klaus shook his head once more. "Another lie. I can't tell if you're trying to fool me or yourself at this point, but you're failing miserably at both." He took a step closer to the younger man, sizing him up. There was something more broken about him than the last time they had encountered one another and Klaus didn't like it, not one bit. "You weren't afraid I wouldn't answer. You were too scared to have to consider what it would mean if you asked me to come and I said no."

[koqabear]

Taehyun beating the bitchless allegations proud of him

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 242

   He looks the same as he had that fateful day, a storm raging around him and risking sending the ship down into the abyss. Hair whipping in the wind as the sky roars its deadly challenge echoed by the beasts they all sought to bring down those centuries ago. 

   It looks just as human as they- that is to say not at all, not anymore. A body twisted, sand and lightning melding into a molten sea ever-expanding. Its eyes as gold as the treasure it guards, brilliant blues and greens dancing across bodies in sigils unknown. 

   It looks exactly as it did that time ago, smile dancing on its lips as the sky opened up in torrents, like blood gushing from a wound. “You’re free to go,” it says, in words they understand and words they don’t. “You don’t have to stay here any longer.” 

   “Where will we go?” They ask, so very tired of this eternal battle, of being trapped in crashing waves and storms of water and sand. Being tossed one way and the other, never able to go home, for home was gone long ago. 

   It looks up, their own gaze following, the ship crashing through the dredges of a storm they had thought eternal. And for the first time in eternities, they see them. The stars. Dancing and dripping from a serpentine form that cradles the Sun and Moon, smiling down to the beast and them alike. 

   And so, they take from the seas, and take to the stars instead. 

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon’s never given much thought to babies before.

When he was younger, enough time was spent scorning his father and the childhood he was depriving him of, that any thoughts of becoming a dad himself one day were nonexistent. As far as he was concerned, he was essentially already a stand in parent to his younger brother.

As he grew older and enlisted, his life becoming one that consisted of nothing more than violence and destruction and terror, he thought the odds of him surviving into his 30’s were so slim that he need never bother worrying about having a ‘next of kin’.

That was until, he met you, of course.

Because now that Simon Riley has you in his life, he’s not quite so pessimistic about his existence the way he once was, doesn’t picture a foreboding dark cloud when he considers what his future could be. What a future with you could be.

Still, as much time as the two of you spend actually engaging in the baby making process, Simon really only considers babies as being something that other people have, not him.

Not with his line of work, not with the risks that come alongside the territory, not when he already can barely stand to leave you for deployment, let alone leave you behind with a child on top of everything.

No, Simon is perfectly content with his life where babies are just another anomale.

But then, your best friend announces she’s pregnant. And the sight of you holding a positive pregnancy test in your hands, changes something within him.

Suddenly, Simon is noticing chubby, drooling little infants everywhere he goes.

Fat babies shoved into the uncomfortable looking seats of grocery carts pass by him in the shops, crying babies strapped to their mums on the tube, sleeping babies being pushed around in their prams without a care in the world. Even on base, he notices more people talking about their children, showing off picture of their offspring.

He’s looking at you a little different as well. His gaze on you will darken as you and your friend chat about baby names, casually mentioning the ones that you like for yourself. His grip will tighten around the shopping cart when you wave to passing babies, making them giggle. He’s surprised at the way his cock twitches when you pretend to hold a breast pump up to your own chest, wrapping the baby shower gift you’d gotten her.

It only takes so long for you to notice the change in him as well.

You’ll be strolling through the park on a chilly morning when a young family goes by, Simon muttering something about how the little bald headed infant ‘should have a hat on for fuck’s sake, cold out ‘ere’. You’ll be in the shops, when suddenly Simon returns holding a pair of teeny tiny baby shoes in his hand, appearing comically small in his large calloused palms, wondering if maybe your friend would like them. You’re sitting outside a cafe while a pair of chubby cheeked babies are sat in their strollers staring at Simon as if their lives depended on it. You’re giggling to yourself, watching your boyfriend stare right back at these little girls, when the 6’4” tank of a man slowly lifts a gloved hand and waves at them, earning a pair of gummy smiles in return.

The most evident change in Simon however, is in bed.

Almost overnight, he goes from never having considered children, to suddenly dedicating every effort to getting you pregnant by the end of the year, month, week.

[coweye]

The Honda Odyssey

Logan Howlett x Reader | smut | 6k words Summary: The car fight reimagined and it only needed to be like 10% more erotic than the original.

I got carried away. I just love Wolvie so much. I'm so happy Logan is getting the adoration he deserves. Long live the Wolverine renaissance.

Warning: smut, p in v, ass play, foul language.

If you had to pinpoint a moment when your life became the shit show it had steadily developed into, you’d say it was the moment you auditioned for X-Force.

In your tenure as besties with Wade Wilson, it's fair to say things hadn’t gone smoothly. The man was a conduit to all things fucked up, but you adored his loose morals and quick mouth. The idiot in red had weaselled his way into your heart and became something of a brother to you and more recently a roommate.

Now, if you’d have told your younger self you’d be in your late twenty’s sharing an apartment with a burn victim who regularly staples a toupee to his fucking head and a coke-head, blind, old African American woman, you’d have laughed in their fucking face.

So, you’d like to think that as these things go you are pretty damn well adjusted but traversing the multiverse was a bit of a stretch, even for you.

One moment you’re at Wade’s surprise party, the next your ass has been zapped to the TVA and you’ve been given a sacred mission; to accompany Marvel Jesus (Wade) and protect the sacred timeline.

Naturally you’re fucking mind blown, you’re a low-level mutant, fuck, you couldn’t even join the X-Men.  Your particular set of skills were a dime a dozen and your flagrant disregard of rules had made you a ‘poor candidate’.

No, the mutant powers you had been graced with weren’t extraordinary by any means. You were basically an off-brand Captain America, just without the gorgeous cheekbones, patriotism and righteous need to do good.

In layman terms, you are strong as shit and have an accelerated healing factor. Not quite the same level as Wade’s mind you. You have, give or take, an inconvenient five-minute turnaround on the more fatally debilitating wounds.

To say you were unqualified was an understatement and to say you were reluctant was a simple fact. A fact you repeated, loudly to anyone that would listen as you were bathed in rich black leather.

“I think maybe you meant to grab negasonic teenage whatchacallit… she’s great, super powerful!” You continue. “Did you mean to get Domino or Colossus or maybe one of the X-Men? “

“No Miss Y/L/N. We have not got the wrong person for the job.” The man you later find out is called Paradox, calls out as you re-enter the operation headquarters. “Mr Wilson requested your presence; he wanted your assistance on his mission.”

“Y/N/N… ten out of ten, baby girl, I one hundred percent would bang. I’m talking raw dog, Barry White on a rug, let’s go all fuckin’ night.”  Wade hollers in his own brand-new suit and even you must admit, you look fucking amazing. “Sweet angel, we’ve just gotta’ come up with a superhero name for you!”

You are enrobed in rich thick black and teal leather, your first ever hero suit and it’s a fucking good one. It doesn’t cling, but instead pulls you in securing your flesh and extenuating curves, ones you hadn’t entirely realised you had. The bottom half your face is concealed with a mask, carefully crafted to follow the contours of your nose and cheekbones.

You’d barely recognised the mysterious figure in the mirror.

“Right?! Tailor was pretty handsy though!”

“Oh yeah, ha! - that man is indeed a predator.” Wade says with a chuckle and a fond sigh.

It shames to you to say but that’s when you stopped fighting this whole thing. You looked the part of a hero; you thought that maybe the TVA knew what they were doing. That they had seen something in you and knew that you had a good heart under all the darkness that lingered on the surface.

Wrong.

You were just a demand Wade had made. He wanted his number one disciple at his side whilst he carried out his sacred mission. You were part of an attempt at appeasing him whilst they destroyed your timeline.

Little more than a pawn to be used whilst they manipulated him into a false sense of security.

Thus, you were thrown into a series of events far beyond your control when Wade being Wade decided you were hunting down a Wolverine to stabilise the timeline, only to be once again fucking zapped into some place they called the void by that little English shitbird named Paradox. It’s entirely accurate to say that you were a little less sturdy than your compadres.

Unfortunately for you, the fall from such a height into the void was fatal. When you finally awake in the desolate wasteland to the sounds of blades clashing it is disorientating to say the least.

Forcing yourself to your feet you lower your mask and gasp in the sweet strangely stale oxygen as you stretch out your newly healed spine with a groan. It was impossible to tell how long you were out as you take in the scene before you; Wade and the Wolverine are engaged in a heated battle. From the looks of it, Logan is winning this fight despite being the human equivalent of a knife block with Wade’s katanas protruding from his chest.

For a moment you pause, perhaps its head trauma that hasn’t healed (He’s fucking Deadpool, he can look after himself for two minutes) and appreciate his form, the Wolverine the two of you had kidnapped was gorgeous. Tch, as if there was any other kind.

Sure, you were biased you’d always been somewhat of a fangirl, but the Wolverine was objectively breath-taking.

You’d indulged in comics whilst growing up but when you found out he was real and looked the way he did, hell, Wolverine was your sexual awakening. He was the first man to make you feel that tingle in your lower stomach. Yes, you may have been thirteen years old, a ball of puppy fat and social anxiety but you’d been waiting for him ever since. 

You’re snapped out of your reverie when Wade loses baby knife in Logan’s shoulder blade, finally you spring into action. In good time as well as you’re not sure if even Deadpool can survive decapitation.

In the singularly most stupid act of your life you throw yourself in front of your friend’s body. “Wait, Wait! Please!”  

Wade has paused behind you, you can feel him weighing up the situation, pausing for a moment to see what you’re going to pull out of the bag.

“The TVA they can fix it, whatever you did, whatever made you the worst Logan, they can fix it! – They have the power to end universes, but they also have the power to fix yours! Help us get back there and we can fix both of our worlds! I promise, they can fix it.” You plead, it’s not quite a lie exactly, more of an Educated Wish than anything.

Okay it is a lie, but you’re sure that the TVA can most likely, probably, maybe fix his world.

Logan’s eyes lock with yours in that moment you can see that he wants to kill you both and be done with it, but that hope won’t let him. You feel a smidgen of guilt for the deceit, but frankly you’ve done worse for less. Your world was on the line it wasn’t the time to pull your punches.

Fast forward four exhausting hours, two periods of unconsciousness and one flaying to find yourself sat opposite Wade gagging down cold spoonful’s of Spam in some dusty ass diner.

You were no better than a man as you watched the Wolverine.

Those arms, those thighs, the way he had beheaded Sabretooth without even breaking a fucking sweat. You wanted him to wrap those instruments of death he called hands around your throat and fuck you dirty until the sun came up.

It had been a long exhausting day and you had been soaking wet for most of it.

Shit, could he smell that? Does that count as sexual harassment? You’d have to ask Wade.

Logan, however, was utterly dismissive of your advances in the face of what was undoubtedly utterly horrific past trauma. Something you were trying to be understanding about, but self-pity in a man, it just turned you on. I said you had some surface layers of darkness.

Unable to help yourself you gaze at him as he opens a bottle of rubbing alcohol. You are utterly entranced, watching the thick chords in his throat bob as he takes a swig.

That tanned skin where his jaw ends and neck begins, slick with sweat and dirt. You’d love to sink your canines into the strip below his ear. He must feel your stare on him as he looks up and catches your eyes dark with lust already surveying his person.

It should embarrass you, that every time he peers your way, he catches you gaping at him like a lovesick puppy, but there’s something about Logan you can’t quite put your finger on. The man heats your blood like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, maybe it’s that torch you’ve carried for him since girlhood, maybe it’s the thick thighs you’d kill to ride – who can say for sure?

In what you assume is against his better judgement, he comes to perch on the booth beside you. His broad shoulders cast an imposing figure as he gets close enough that if you were to move your hand a couple of inches to the right, you’d finally be able to touch that yellow fabric that plagued your tween dreams.

You’re burning up at the thought of him, unable to stop yourself you part your legs slightly to ease some of the pressure. Logans nose twitches, his head swivels your way and his eyes catch your own.  

Welp - at least you have your answer about him smelling your arousal.

Deciding that you were most likely verging on sexual harassment charges you decided to focus back in on the task at hand, gagging once again at another spoonful of spam.

“Be a good girl and swallow, Y/N/N, you know the rules!” Wade jokes, your chortle was your only response. What could you say? He always hit your funny bone despite the ocean that was raging in your panties.

Logan stares at Wade for a long moment before turning to your way and addressing you for maybe only the fourth time today?

“What are you doing with this fucking clown? You his sidekick? Following him round to laugh at his stupid fucking jokes whilst he gets kids killed?”

“Why I have never.” Wade is faux outraged at his words, clutching his imaginary pearls as the Wolverine throws around accusations that aren’t entirely untrue.

The Wolverine’s expression remains stern as his eyes track your face. They seem to be evaluating your character and from the flare in his nose and crease in his brow you can guess he finds you lacking. You’re embarrassed to admit how much that deflates you, so you do what you do best; you deflect.

 “I could follow you around and laugh at your jokes instead, if you like?” When you speak your voice has a sultry edge to it and there’s no mistaking your intentions.

Logan seems to think on your proposition for a second or two, before he huffs grabs his rubbing alcohol and unopened can of Spam and heads over to sit at the bar.

“Holy hot ham and cheese on rye, Y/N, you fucking slut.” Wade berates you though his voice is as light as it’s always been as he boots your shin under the table. “Trying to your holes filled by Wolvie during a world saving mission, Marvel H Christ, stay on fucking task!”

You swear you hear Logan mutter a Jesus Christ from the bar.

Though as Wade continues irritating the hero hunched against bar, you can’t help the realisation that he didn’t say no.

“You’re uh… well regarded in our world.” Wade complements, being real doesn’t come easy to him. You appreciate the effort.

“Well, I’m not shit in mine.”

“I tried to join the X-Men because of you.” You speak up finally joining their conversation. Wolverine’s back goes rigid, but he doesn’t respond. You’re not sure if he’s waiting for you to continue or hoping you’ll stop. “You made a difference to this world, made me think I could do the same. I just never quite make the cut.”

Logan doesn’t seem to have a response.

It seems your words have an effect as you catch him watching you more often. When Wade makes his jokes, he looks to you for validation of his withering looks.

You’re probably more distracted by this revelation than you should be when the three of you come across a real nasty variant of Colossus seeking out Wade for… you want to say… revenge?

The not-so-gentle-anymore-giant flips the Honda and tosses both Wade and Logan through the treeline as they advance on him as if they were little more than toys his mother had asked him to pick up.

One by one your bullets ricochet from his metal skin as he comes towards you. You aren’t built for this fight; you are completely and utterly outmatched.

All you’re doing at this point is buying yourself some time for your backup to pull themselves from the rubble, however during a particularly spirited cartwheel the metal oaf finally gets his hands on you. Colossus’ metal palm is cold on your throat, and you could swear you hear your neck snapping before you feel it.  

With a gasp you return to life to find a slightly dishevelled Logan standing above you. By the grace of god, his sleeves have been worn away in the fight, his arms, oh sweet lord, his arms are on full display.

“Thought you were a goner.” He offers you a hand when you simply stare mutely his way. Locking your fingers around his wrist he pulls you to your feet. You don’t release your hold on him and neither does he.

“Don’t throw the party just yet, eh?” You joke weakly, for a second you could swear there’s a slight raise of the corner of his mouth, imperceptible, if you didn’t know what you were looking for. In the past few hours you had become an expert on Wolverine’s face.  

Your mouth is dry as you take in his thick sweat laden biceps.

“Where’s Wade?” You query whilst rolling your aching neck as you haven’t heard his voice in a record thirty seconds, Logan suddenly remembers himself and drops your hand.

“’fraid Metal man took your clown, was pissed with him and can’t say I blame the guy.”

“Shit.” You sigh rubbing your temples as you kneel to pick up the dismembered arm of your best friend. “Well – fuck. That’ll take him a few hours at least to grow back – He’ll be so sad about his suit.”

You peel the fabric from the limb and tuck it under the breast plate of your own suit. Wade will want his glove back when it grows back.

“He say where he was taking him?”

“Oh yeah, that along with his plan for world domination...” Logan huffs as if your mere presence annoys him.

“Thought you didn’t like sarcasm.”

“I like sarcasm just fine, Bub. It’s you I don’t like.” You can’t help but smile his way at the comment made at your expense, his brows crease. “You’re a strange one.”

“Can you do your sniffy thing?”  Its impressive, you thought he’d reached the limit with his scathing looks towards Wade, yet he somehow manages to pull a deeper frown out the vault especially for you.

“Sniffy thing?” His words are spoken with such derision, it turns you on a little. You realise that perhaps you are in fact a deeply troubled individual.

“Oh, sorry.” You pretend to clear a frog in your throat. “Please, oh, please, beautiful, handsome Wolverine, please can you locate my bestest pal with your heightened sense of smell?” His face doesn’t break despite your hands clasped in front of your chin.

“You’re just as fucking annoying as that moron.” He huffs “Get in the fucking car, we’ll follow his trail.”

“You can smell him from the car?”

“The blood, Jesus Fucking Christ, there’s a trail of blood.”

“Ah.” Is all you reply as you find your seat in the passenger side and start your own one on one team up with Wolverine. Its not exactly the way you imagined it, but beggars certainly can’t be choosers.

After a few moments of sullen silence, you decide that there’s no time like the present to form a long-lasting bond.

“What’s your world like?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Okay... What’s the first thing you’re gonna’ do if they can save your world? I bet its something boring as fuck, like team-“

“What did you just say?”

“I bet you’re gonna do something boring like-“

“No before that.”

“What’s the first thing you’re gonna’ do if they save your world?” You question, his sudden interest in your words takes you by surprise as he has been vacant from your conversation.

The breaks suddenly shriek as the car comes to a stop.

“What do you mean if?”

“I…”

“You said they could fix my world. Undo it all, is what you fucking said.”

“I mean I think they can!”

“You fucking liar.” The edge to The Wolverine’s voice is terrifying. The realisation trickles down your spine, Logan has been nice to you all this time, you’re finally meeting The Wolverine.

“I didn’t lie!” For some reason you’re ashamed of your deceit, you’ve murdered countless people and still, you’ve felt less remorse. Logan’s eyes pin you in your seat as disgust clouds his face. It hurts more than you can fathom. “Not exactly, I think they can fix your world! – I needed your help and if you killed Wade there was no hope for my universe!”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about your universe!” He spits your way; his hands are gripping the wheel in what seems like an effort to keep his cool.

“I know, but I do!” You cry back at him. “You know how to save the world, you’re the fucking Wolverine! I know how to kill people, but this hero shit, this isn’t me!”

“Ha! No shit.” There is pure hate in the man’s eyes as he stares back at you.

“Please, you’re Logan. Whether you’re the worst one or not - You’re still better than me.”

“Get out of the fucking car.” The words come from between clenched teeth and are filled with warning.

“No – fuck you.”  Your rage breaks the banks to meet Logan’s. Perhaps it’s the guilt, maybe it’s the fear for Wade but something within you snaps at his constant bad temper. “It was an educated guess and a fucking reasonable one at that, get the fuck over yourself you big bird wannabe geriatric fucker! “

He slams his palms on the steering wheel, his nose flares and his teeth clamp together.  “Fuck me? Fuck you – you sad pathetic excuse for a side-kick. No wonder the X-Men wouldn’t take you, and they’ll take fuckin’ anyone. You are a ridiculous, immature, moron who spends her days following around a fucking clown to avoid facing the reality that you are no one. I have never met a sadder, more attention starved asshole in my entire life. You were right about one thing, you’re no fucking hero.”

Its shameful the way your stomach drops, and your eyes involuntarily begin to tear. To hear your hero say the words you’ve thought about yourself whilst laying awake at night. It’s a knife to the gut.

“Nothing to fucking say, huh, Angel?” The use of Wade’s nickname for you is like sandpaper on your skin, it rubs you the wrong fucking way.

“I am going to hurt you now.” Your voice is barely a broken whisper.

“You’re going to hurt – “His faux chortle is cut short by a swift punch to his face. You’re worried you may have been overzealous with your swing when his nose begins bleeding. The Wolverine is stunned for only a moment before he grabs the back of your neck and proceeds with smashing your face into the dashboard and those concerns are quickly put to bed.

The old fucker is strong, but you don’t think he’ll kill you, yet another educated wish.

“Not so tough now…” He shouts as the radio channels change with your skull. Pulling a knife from your leg strap you embed it in his thigh and pull the lever to recline your seat whilst he’s distracted, luckily, you’re not there when he swings for retribution.

Though one of his fucking steak knives catches your upper arm slicing through the leather. Warm blood trickles down your arm, staining the beige interior of the poor Honda. 

Your legs are your strongest asset, so when he attempts to restrain you with the seatbelt, you are presented with your window of opportunity. You wrap them around his neck as you pivot your hips slamming the Wolverine headfirst into the metal of the door. Once, twice, three times - on the fourth he lands a fist to your gut, luckily, he has retracted his claws.

If he was willing to kill you, you wouldn’t stand a chance.

You’re winded struggling to catch your breath from the gut punch, but you manage pull the knife from his thigh that is nestled between your legs and thrust it into his neck, you aim for the spot you’d fantasied about kissing before he’d torn your character apart piece by piece, now you just want to bathe in his fucking blood.

It was the pain that instantaneously made his claws extend. He’s quick to move them, though he slices through the sides of your suit as he buries them in the chair behind you. Your ribs are a bloodied mess though you don’t care, in a few hours they’ll be good as new.

Logan has seized the opportunity and has your arms pinned to your sides, his blood has cooled a little more than yours, he doesn’t seem to want to murder you over an argument.

Perhaps he’s more well-adjusted than yourself, that thought alone should concern you, except it just enrages you further.

“You stupid fuckin-“The Wolverine starts admonishing you, before you swing your head forward and headbutt him.

Yes.

You really do that.

You headbutt the man with the adamantium fucking skeleton– at full strength. Its sheer dumb luck you don’t crack your own skull in the process– maybe Logan was right, you are fucking dumb.

“Fucking fuck!” You cry grabbing your forehead and writhing. Noone wins with a headbutt, except Logan apparently.

“Fucking stop that.” Your writhing has pushed your core against his crotch, and he is already packing quite the heat at what feels like half-mast. He grabs your hips to stop your movement, but it only seems to push you closer. “Stop fucking moving.”

The constant arousal you’ve felt since meeting him returns in double time, Logan’s nostrils flare and his eyes darken. It’s debased and you’re ashamed that you want him, you haven’t stopped wanting him, despite the awful fucking words that left his mouth minutes ago.

“Like … a little pain Wolvie?”

Its relief you feel, you think, when instead of answering or punching you in the face, he closes the gap.

The Wolverine’s claws retract, and he grabs at your chin. Logan’s mouth utterly devours your own, your front tooth clashes with his own as you push yourself upwards, you pull your knife out of his neck, catching his grunt of pain on your tongue as you begin licking your way down his thick throat.

The vein you’d spotted hours ago is throbbing freshly healed, you sink your canines into the flesh and its as good as you’d fucking imagine. His groan is utterly beast-like as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

The Wolverine’s throat tastes like salt and iron. Thick, tangy and warm on your tongue as you soothe the bite. It drives Logan wild, thrusting his hardened member against your warmth. One of his gloved hands rises to lock on the back of your neck to pull you into yet another earth-shattering kiss.  His sharp hot tongue slides against your own, exploring the expanses of your mouth like its his to claim.

You bite at him again then, your teeth catching his bottom lip sharply.  Logan groans into your mouth before you use every ounce of your enhanced strength to throw him backwards against the dashboard.

He is taken utterly by surprise as his head slams into the windscreen cracking the glass with a grunt. When he looks your way Logan’s eyes are blackened with desire, he is utterly wild.

Slowly as if afraid to make any sudden moves, you unzip your combat boots, your eyes never leaving his. One boot and then the next.

You thank the TVA’s tailor for making your suit a two piece as you shuffle backwards into the backseat, pushing the thick leather down your legs all whilst maintaining eye contact with the beast leaning against the dashboard.

“You sure you want this Darlin’?”

“Darlin’?” You question mockingly, your voice lowering to imitate his own, as you wantonly spread your legs, your bare leg resting next to the headrest. Only a pair of black cotton panties separate him from your most intimate parts and his eyes are locked on your clothed core. “a second ago it was ‘Pathetic Moron’ to you.”

Your head tilts in question as his eyes lock back on your own, you think perhaps for a moment something akin to regret passes over his face, but you’ve never been entirely comfortable with feelings, so you drop your hand into the waistband of your panties, you’ve barely circled your opening with your pointer finger before he’s on you.

“That’s my job, you fucking Moron.” He plunges two bare thick fingers into your heat. Gasping you throw your head back against the headrest, it’s a tight fit and its been a while but the slight burn eases some of the aching in your core.  “You’re fuckin’ soaking wet, you like it huh, bub? Making me bleed?”

Your grab his jaw, your nails digging into his flesh. “I’d like to bathe in-” He scissors his fingers finding that spot inside you and you let out an embarrassing noise, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “-Your fucking blood… you mean motherfucker.”

You’re an absolute goner when he starts rubbing your clit, after a day of foreplay your body seizes, and you grab at the nape of his neck trying to find something to anchor you down. But as fast as the build was you come tumbling down just as quickly, when he cruelly withdraws his hands.

“No! - Wha- what the fuck?!” You’re almost crying as your torn from the precipice.

Logan flips you over onto your stomach before you can complain any further, your face down on the filthy upholstery as he pulls your panties from your hips. You can’t see him from this angle, though you can feel his warm hands tracing the globes of your ass.

You force your knees further apart, pushing your bare soaking pussy against the tight bulge of his yellow suit. If you had enough of your facilities about you, you’d be embarrassed that you’re currently rubbing your cunt against The Wolverine like a bitch in heat after he’d chewed you out only minutes ago.

Logan’s hand dip between your thighs, his fingers swirl along your hole, dragging your wetness along to your aching clit.

“You think I’d make it that easy?” He asks as he continues the journey back and forth. On the second pass he dips his finger inside of you for a fraction of a second before resuming its path. “What do you want, darlin’?”

You weren’t going to beg, in fact you bit your tongue to stop the traitorous words from forming, this man had already made you abandon most of your self-respect, he wasn’t having this.

“Logan…” At your breathy words the man leans forward, pressing his fabric covered cock into your ass as he folds his body over yours. One hand comes down next to your shoulder, the other explore your tits as he rocks himself into your throbbing core. It’s the perfect storm as he nuzzles into your exposed throat but somehow you manage your words. “Fuck me or don’t, I’m not begging, bub.”

He exhales through his nose in what you guess is equal parts amusement and annoyance, but you’re far beyond caring. He places a bite on the spot where your throat meets your shoulder as his body pulls back. Momentarily his hands leave your hips to deal with his own pants. You hear the clank of his belt hitting the car floor moments before you feel the head of his cock, running along your folds.

The head of his cock is thick, and it feels hot to the touch as he runs it along your slick. All of a sudden Logan pushes forward and sheathes himself inside of you with a single thrust.

You try your best to hold in your incoherent moans but to little avail as he pulls back before slamming full force back into you. If you were a human woman, your pelvis would’ve shattered from the force of his hips against your ass, instead you gather your strength and push back, allowing him deeper. The both of you moan in unison at the depth he reaches.

You grab onto the foam of the seat, ripping through the fabric with your bare hands desperate for an anchor as Logan unforgivingly pounds into you from behind, once again he folds his body over yours, wrapping a palm around your clawed fingers.

“.” He grunts something incoherent into your ear as he picks up the pace, slamming into you repeatedly, slowly picking up his pace. Your core is positively aching as you throb around him, pulling him deeper within you.  If you were expecting any further explanation, you’re sorely disappointed.

The wolverine pulls back, gripping at your hips keeping you still as he resumes his powerful strokes.  Logan’s hand dips to your clit, rubbing quick circles sending you barrelling back towards your orgasm. As you begin to clench around him, he pulls your body upwards, his head brushing against the top of the car as he holds you against him his fingers never leaving your clit.

“Come on my cock, Angel.” Unable to stop yourself you clench around him, hearing him talk like that does something primal to you.

You fucking loved Logan’s mouth, you bet he ate pussy like a champion if he played the clit this fucking well.

You stopped fighting it and threw yourself from the cliff, shattering in his thick muscle veined arms as he held you up against him, his cock still viciously plundering your depths.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispers against your neck whispers peppering it with bites.

Logan gives you a few moments to come down from your high before he resumes his punishing pace, you think perhaps you’ve reached your limit of pleasure, that the threshold can’t possibly be topped until he whispers into your ear in that gruff voice.

“What was it Wilson said? Filling all your holes?” The Wolverine asks, his eyes meet yours over your shoulder meaningfully, asking permission as he offers you his thumb. You merely moan your approval and wantonly draw his finger into your mouth, soaking the pad in saliva.  

Logan yanks your head into a vicious kiss. It’s a messy one, filled to the brim with need. The hand not currently locked on your neck holding your face to his, travels down your back, through the valley of your bodies. The pad of his pinky runs appreciatively over the globe of your ass, before his hand dips into the crease.

Logan’s thumb runs teasingly against the tight ring of muscle, it’s a foreign experience which makes you startle slightly.

“Anyone ever fucked you here?” He asks as he bites down your neck, delicately pushing you forward until your head rests on the backseat. You shake your head as your eyes close, his cock is buried balls deep within you as he plays with your asshole.

When his thumb finally breaches your tight hole just past the nail, he begins his thrusts once more. His cock fills your pussy from behind and suddenly you feel so fucking full, Its far too much for you.

“Fuck… Logan.” You gasp almost on the verge of tears as pounds you into the back seat. It seems the ass play has gotten to him more than expected, as his pace has increases.

“Where?” He asks breathless from the exertion as he pulls his thumbs from your ass and takes a handful of the meat on your hips.

“Inside…. Please … Logan.” You practically beg though you’ll never admit it, his rhythm becomes stunted as his hips slam into the back of your thighs.

“Give me something tight to come in, Darlin’.” Moaning at his words you’re eager to obey as you reach your hand between your own legs and rub mercilessly at your clit. The unforgiving pounding, the grunting and the fingers currently bruising your hips and the burning of your now vacant ass send you sailing over the edge.

You clamp down on him like a vice, groaning unable to hold back your whimpers anymore as he finally bites your neck and pumps his seed deep inside you as far as it can go. Logan grunts like a beast as he pulses deep inside of you.

Logan collapses beside you. Dents in the interior of the van you don’t even remember making have appeared from where a stray elbow or knee has hit the metal in the throes of passion.

The Wolverine tucks his cock back in his suit. Ever the gentleman, he uses your black panties to wipe away the cum dripping from your thighs, you haven’t got the heart to tell him that when you’re commando redressed in your suit that you can still feel him dripping from you, your pussy uncomfortably slick against the leather.

After dressing, the two of you sit in contemplative silence. Neither one of you has the emotional complexity to discuss what happened and neither one of you will accept fault for your argument that led to it, so, silence reigns.

The tension is sliced in two as Logan leans forward and pushes an errant lock of hair behind your ear in an act so goddamn endearing, you melt. You still wouldn’t apologise for lying, because you didn’t lie but you can meet him a quarter of the way.

“I’m sorry for calling you geriatric.” You whisper catching his eyes, a small spark of humour leaps into them, you’ve seen more emotions from your hero in the past half an hour than you knew he was capable of.

“I shouldn’t have-“ Logan’s heartfelt apology is cut off by the lead of this goddamn story.

“Well, well, well.  Would you look at this, My best friends, Ha! I get fucking kidnapped, an arm ripped off and you’re nowhere to be found? I thought don’t worry Wade, they won’t leave you, Y/N/N will come around that corner any second."

Wade has appeared through the passenger side window; he looks a little worse for wear and has a child’s arm growing from his stump, its kind of gross to look at.

"What if Colossus had had his way with me? What then Y/N? I expect this from Wolvie, but not from you! No, no heroic rescue for old Deadpool. I have to save myself because you fuckers are too busy playing hide the adamantium bone!  Thanks for nothing guys. Now the car has old man sex stank to it, as if this hunk of shit Honda could get any worse!”