#who knew one kids room could do this to me

[the-darklings]

Oh god please write the timebomb fic!!! (or several lol)

ೀ pairing: ekko/jinx

ೀ wc: 5k

ೀ summary: "Always a dance with you, huh?" Or: two years after the battle versus Noxus, Ekko receives an unexpected visitor.

ೀ author notes: ask and you shall receive!!! I wrote this in one sitting in some weird ass haze and barely edited it, but this is the most fun I had in a long while so I hope you enjoy!!!

ೀ read it on ao3 | listen to the playlist

The first few days after the battle, Ekko doesn’t rest. He barely sleeps or eats, or allows himself time to think. 

He can’t. 

There’s too much to do. The dead are in their dozens. His Firelights took a major hit, and he knows that for the next few months his fingers will be numb from painting their pictures on the mural day in and out. So many who could have lived but didn’t. So many could have had better futures. But if he just runs, if he keeps pushing on, he can outrun these regrets and his grief, too. This way, he doesn’t remember Vi’s heartbroken expression when she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug after the fight, blood and sweat still clinging to her, her words choked when she told him—

Four seconds. 

He could have saved her. He would have hauled her snarky ass out of that tunnel, ripped that bomb from her hands. He would have—

He runs from those thoughts, too. They suffocate him, and Ekko has too much to fix to be suffocated by his grief right now. 

He sure as hell didn’t fight for Piltover. He fought for Zaun, for Firelights. Because he knew Ambessa Medarda would never settle for anything other than complete subjugation. She would have destroyed Ekko’s home. She was already busy murdering and imprisoning their people, and nothing but complete eradication would have followed in her wake. 

Ekko did it for… her. The blue-haired symbol of defiance, of uprising. A loud declaration that they won’t live under Piltover’s oppression forever, that they’ll reach greater things one day and won’t be silenced. They won’t wait for permission to breathe again. It’s what she would have wanted, he convinces himself, even though part of him knows Jinx would have enjoyed the chaos of the fight more. Or maybe not. Not since that little girl. Not since he had to save her from herself over and over again, only to lose her anyway. 

Undercity mourns her. Her visage is everywhere. Jinx the Saviour. She would have hated it, he thinks wryly. She never got to see just how loved she was. 

Maybe he should have grabbed her and ran away. Maybe he should have let the world go to hell and saved her instead. The thought, born of fatigue, lingers only for a few fleeting seconds, a rare moment of selfishness amidst a day spent fixing the world around him. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. If only he had tried harder when they were kids and saved her from Silco. If only he didn’t give up on her. 

She’s always been his biggest maybe. And now they’ll never be more. Not this version of them. Never him and her as they were. 

Aw, are you gonna mope now, boy saviour?

“You’re not here.”

It punches clean through his chest. The realisation of it. The sheer, horrible weight. He’ll never see her again. 

Constants and variables, Benzo told him once. Constants and variables, young Ekko.

A week after the battle versus Noxus, Ekko sinks to his knees inside his room, exhausted and heartbroken, and sobs. 

.

Things begin to settle. Slowly, at first, the city might have been gutted after the battle but not destroyed, the morale low but hopeful. Hexgates are gone, and Ekko is glad when he finds out. He doesn’t want to see or hear anything about the arcane for a while. No magic in the world could fix the pain festering in his chest. 

Sevika, Silco’s old second-in-command and once his sworn enemy, comes to him two weeks after the attack. 

“They’re making me a council member,” she says, grunting when she falls into the tiny wooden chair inside his room. 

She’s always been a threatening figure, power rippling from every shift of her body, but Ekko isn’t sure he wants to fight anyone right now. Nor does she seem interested in strangling him. She lights a cigarette, her scarred features set in a fearsome scowl. 

“And?” he asks for anything better to say. “How is that any of my business?”

Sevika exhales through her nose, reminding him of an angry bull, all smoke and steely resolve. “I’m the only one presenting Zaun or her interests.” 

Ekko almost rolls his eyes. Of course she is. The Council is simply falling over themselves to fix the situation. After months of harassment and oppression, false arrestments and beatings, they asked them to bleed for Piltover and its interests with nothing but the bare minimum courtesy extended towards them afterwards.

“I could use you, kid,” Sevika continues, and Ekko forces his anger away, loosening his fists. “Exactly for that reaction. You’re smart as hell, and been a pain in my ass for years. Pilties will try to walk all over us again in a few months’ time. You and I both know it. We gotta beat them in their own game. Not let them silence us again. I could use someone like you. Be my adviser. You’ll have a direct line to the Council. We’ll make an actual change. It’s better than whatever this is.”

Ekko’s expression sours at her words while Sevika’s gaze flicks around his room in contemplation. He works all day to a point of exhaustion, then passes out. It’s the only way he’s been able to continue, day in and day out. Being in a leadership position means you can’t take time off to grieve. Too many people are relying on him. It’s bad enough that he accidentally abandoned his people for months without meaning to. The guilt he still feels over everything has been nearly suffocating. 

It’s a good gig, hero! You should do it and be a thorn in her side.

Ekko blinks the flash of blue from his vision, rubbing his brow just as Sevika adds: “It’s what she would have wanted, you know.”

A jolt of electricity runs through him. Everyone, even Vi, has been avoiding mentioning Jinx in front of him.  

His jaw clenches. “You don’t know that.”

“Kid, I know what not letting go looks like,” she says, and it almost sounds compassionate, or as close to it as someone like her can get. “We had our differences in the past, I know as much—”

“You killed my people,” Ekko snaps. “Do you know how many lives you destroyed with Shimmer?”

“Sure do,” she replies listlessly, smoke billowing past her lips. “I won’t try to justify my actions to you. But y’know, when you were gone, Jinx united Zaun in a way I haven’t seen since Vander. Beats me how she did it, but people believed in her. Even your Firelights.”

It mirrors everything he’s seen and heard for weeks. Jinx freeing their people, Jinx the Saviour, the beacon for their new future. The one who set and lived by extreme examples, who made Piltover back off and take the Undercity seriously. Because they all finally realised that there can never be peace without a fight. She should be here to fight this battle with him. Ekko should be busy arguing with her that blowing up another building will not make things right. He shouldn’t be walking around with her ghost a step behind him, tormenting him with ideas of what could and should have been. 

“And now she’s dead!”

His ears ring, his chest heaves, and he clutches his thudding heart, willing it back in its cage. He didn’t mean to come undone so easily. 

“Yeah. Yeah, she is,” Sevika says, and there’s a grimness to her when she says it, an unexpected pain buried somewhere deep in her gruff voice that makes Ekko see her differently. “I get it.”

“No,” he whispers, pained. “You don’t.”

.

Seven months pass before Ekko finally picks up a brush for her. 

He sleeps better at night but not without nightmares. Not without remembering Powder from the alternative universe and how they danced. How sweet her kiss felt. Not without that memory smearing to finding Jinx with a grenade in her hand, again, ready to disappear, go somewhere he could never reach her. 

Ekko still hears the detonation in his ears, over and over, on a sickening loop. His mind likes to torture him with ideas he failed to save her. That no matter what he does, or how he mends time, she’s forever out of reach. His blue beacon, his lighthouse he can never find in the depthless ocean of reality. 

Many have drawn her, but he still thinks that no one knows the exact hue of her hair or the wicked shine in her eyes better than him. He’s spent an entire lifetime examining them, looking for them in a sea of thousands. 

Their city is rebuilding. He agreed to Sevika’s request after a few days of contemplation. Caitlyn Kiramman’s expression when he ambled into the Council room was worth the additional burden now on his shoulder. But she’s changed too, matured, and now fills her position as the Council’s leader well. 

Ekko won’t forget how she allowed his friends to be imprisoned, tortured, and, in some cases, killed, but her regret made her side with him and Sevika more often than not during voting, and maybe he could at least one day forgive her. Another maybe. For Vi, if nothing else, who clearly loves the blue-haired woman fiercely. 

The barren wall stares at him. He’s painted Powder before, but this is different. One day, his friend, his dearest friend, was simply gone. Without a goodbye, in a wake of tragedy. The life Ekko once had disintegrated beneath his feet overnight. Benzo killed. Vander dead. Mylo and Claggor too. Vi died as well. Or so he believed for years. Powder was missing until a different knife was delivered to him weeks later, when the word on the street spread about Silco being seen with a little girl with blue hair. 

Ekko sighs, hanging his head. The city is healing, but he isn’t, or at least not as quickly. 

He runs his hand over the white wall, picturing Jinx as he saw her last, those precious hours between talking her down from the abyss and their joint attack on Noxian forces. It felt so good to rely on her again, to stand with her, side by side. As natural as breathing. 

You’re the order to my chaos, hero. 

“Leave me alone,” he says quietly, head hung low. “It’s been months.”

A figment of Jinx chortles, arms crossed over her chest as she leans back against the wall. You would get bored to death without me. Ha! Get it? 

Shooting a glare at her, Ekko picks up a brush, his fingers quivering. Tears burn in his eyes when he dips the brush into the paints he painstakingly mixed. He works, and works, until his eyes are dry and his wrist hurts. Ekko doesn’t stop until he loses light and when he steps back, he is looking at Jinx. Equal parts chaos and something ethereal. 

He wipes angrily across his mouth when he tastes saltiness pooling there and goes home. 

There’s no sleep that night. 

.

Time is a strange thing. It weaves and flows. Without his Z-Drive, he has no control over it. Time simply goes on, and he’s the passenger in a vehicle he doesn’t want to move. 

He’s important these days. He’s one of the few bright minds still left, and he’s endlessly busy with something. City of Progress needs every mind that can be spared. Wounds heal, and time dulls the memory, but not everything is so easily forgotten. Piltover moves quicker, but the Undercity erects a statue for Jinx beside Vander’s. He sees Vi at the ceremony, and they exchange strained smiles. They speak sometimes, but it’s not as often as it used to be. They’re both dealing with their grief the best they can.

At least Vi has Cait. Ekko has nothing but a cold bed and purpose. 

He and Sevika make a good team. It almost makes him wonder what could have been in a universe where they were on the same side from the start. His Zaun, cracked but not broken, is resembling the bright version of the Zaun and Piltover he saw in the alternative verse. There're years of work still left, but there’s something like hope in him, fragile and misplaced as it might be. 

A year passes. Then two. He visits the graves; he lights candles for those lost. Some days Ekko sees her, other days he doesn’t. He hopes for a glimpse, even when he knows he shouldn’t. It should be easier to let go of what you never had, right? 

His mural for Jinx grows. Other faces join her, people who died believing in her, surrounding the one they placed their trust in. And, at the centre of it all, her, her, her. 

Still her. 

Always her. 

. 

He’s not sure what arouses him. He hasn’t slept well in years, perpetual exhaustion clinging to him like a shawl. Some would call it the weight of living, no doubt. 

There’s a shift in the air, a disturbance that’s not enough to make Ekko jolt awake and reach for a weapon, but enough to make his eyes flutter open. He breathes the cool air, pushing his grogginess away. 

There’s a shape at the foot of his bed. Small and round. It takes several seconds for his vision to adjust, for him to realise that a hooded figure sits perched on his bed, knees pulled to their chest.

Ekko hasn’t had to rely on his battle instincts in two years, but there’s enough left in him to attack without hesitation. His fingers tangle in the cloak, shoving the figure down, his knee pressing harshly into their abdominal, hands seeking the intruder’s throat—

“Wow, little man, you sure know how to roll out the welcoming mat,” the all too familiar voice drawls before his fingers tighten instinctively around the slender, warm throat. 

A haggard breath forces from Ekko’s parted mouth. In the wild struggle, the stranger’s hood has slipped down, revealing a familiar face with a startling crop of blue hair. His heart squeezes painfully, forcing him away from Jinx’s apparition. 

“Leave me alone,” he croaks, rubbing his eyes till his vision swims. “Just leave me alone! I don’t want to see you anymore!”

“Huh, fine. I thought after two years, the welcome would be a tad warmer. Brrr.”

Ekko pushes himself to his feet, stumbling away, watching warily as the young woman sits back up, picking at her messy hair. She looks different. A little older than Jinx from his visions or memories. Her hair is longer, though nowhere near the same length she once had braided into two twin braids. She swings her leg back and forth, another pulled up to her chest while she watches him. And… her eyes. Ekko was the last person to see her with blue eyes before their battle on the bridge. The last time he saw Jinx alive, they were a dangerous, burning violet. 

Now, even with the shade of the night, they’re a muddy mix between the blue he once knew, and the piercing violet that made her so deadly. As if that restless edge in her has calmed down and settled. 

Ekko’s chest heaves as he stumbles back a step. 

“Soooo—” she begins.

“You’re alive.”

Jinx shrugs her shoulders. “Yup. Clearly. In the flesh even,” she crows, but it’s more muted when compared to the wildness he once faced off against. 

His hand flies to his stomach, and Ekko distantly wonders if he’s about to throw up in front of a girl he’s spent his entire life loving. 

Mercifully, his stomach settles, but his heart beats so loudly he can hear the blood rushing in his skull. 

“You’re alive,” he repeats, harder this time. “It’s been two years.”

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t offer more than that, but there’s a shadow over her narrow face. She’s healthier. There’s more weight on her bones, her skin has lost some of the pallidness. As if someone took Powder and Jinx, split them clean down the middle, and fused them into one body. Stronger, more self-reassured, less teetering on the brink. 

“Would have written but mail is crappy where I was,” she jokes, her voice a familiar, drawling litany. “Besides, this is so much more mysterious—”

He closes the distance between them in two steps. His room isn’t big but he would have walked, ran, sprinted if needed to close the distance between them. His arms wrap around her and Ekko squeezes her so tightly he hears a small breath escape Jinx. She’s solid and warm. Smells faintly of sea and something metallic. Ekko buries his face in the soft crook of Jinx’s neck, gasping for breath. 

“Woah, hero, you’re gonna break my ribs,” she whispers, but her arms wind around him, more careful, unsure. “I thought you hated me?”

Even when he releases her, Ekko’s hands linger on her, go to her face, examining her through the crack of light illuminating his room. 

“I saw you,” he breathes, devastated. “I saw you everywhere. I hoped to see you everywhere.”

Something flickers over her face, an unknown thing, secretive and distant as she’s always felt to him. 

“Geez, seeing things? And they call me crazy.”

“You’re not crazy.”

There’s such vehemence in his voice it startles them both. Jinx nibbles on her inner cheek, searching his face cautiously. “I thought you’d be mad.”

Ekko laughs, a low huff of amusement. “Do you think I care for you so little, huh?”

Too late he realises he’s without a shirt, and is, in fact, mostly bare before the girl he’s harboured a crush on for years. Near boyish shyness forces Ekko back, making him clear his throat. His hands tremble when he reaches for a discarded t-shirt, hoping it doesn’t smell bad when he pulls it over his head. When he glances at her over his shoulder, Jinx is still there, still watching him, though there’s a thoughtful air around her. 

When she notices him looking, she offers him a sarcastic grin.

“No need to get shy, stud.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles.

He plops down on his unmade bed, watching her watch him. Her face is half hidden by her arms propped on her bent knee, but the silence between them isn’t awkward. They’re taking each other in, taking in the changes that have touched them both in the last two years.

“Why come back now?” he asks, eventually. 

Jinx blinks, near feline-like, dropping her head back to stare at his ceiling as if it may offer an answer. “I’m a crappy friend, but not that crappy. Happy birthday, wonder boy.”

There’s a creak in his heart, a lightness in his ribcage, a balloon of affection despite their troubled history that inflates just for her. “You remember my birthday?”

She makes a sound at the back of her throat. Glances at him from the corner of her eye. “Well, we picked it together, silly, so sure I do.” Shadows fall over her features when she angles her head away. “I… I never thought I would come back—that it was better this way.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Something close to a smile ghosts over her face at his response. Ekko can’t rip his gaze away from her. He fears that if he does, he’ll wake up and she’ll be gone again, and he’ll have to relive the agony of losing her again. 

“Does Vi—”

“No. No. And it’s better this way.”

“But—”

“Drop it, Ekko. Please.”

He does. Because this is too good to be true, and he doesn’t want this to end. Emotions mix inside him, battling for dominance, so he sits there, letting them all wash over him. 

“You’ve been busy,” she says abruptly, nodding her head in the general direction of the outside world. “Their new wonder boy. I’m not surprised. You’ve always been good at creating things. Good things.”

“And you’ve always been good at fixing them,” he says. 

Ekko thinks back on the countless times she helped him to fix up old rubbish others have discarded and sell them in Benzo’s shop as small treasures. It feels, now, like a lifetime ago. In a sense, it has been. 

She snorts; it’s an ugly, hateful sound. “Not always.”

There’s weight to how she says it. Pain lingers in each syllable, more so a whispered confession. She’s thinking of others, those lost through accidents or her own direct involvement. 

“I’m sorry about Isha,” Ekko says carefully, thumb pressing into the hollow of his bare knee. He itches to take her hand, to smooth his thumb over her knuckles instead, but he doesn’t. She’s never been his to touch. “Vi told me about her.”

Jinx shrinks, turning away and he mentally curses. A sore spot even years later. Understandably so. 

“I… shit. Sorry.”

“What’s with the long face?” she exclaims suddenly, jumping to her feet and twirling. Her hands drop to her hips and she grins at him, all mischief. “C’mon, we gotta get out of here.”

Ekko squints. “Uh, what?”

“It’s your birthday, silly,” she says, like it should be obvious. “We’re going to spend the day together.”

.

Jinx keeps her hood up, her gait steady. Any sign of blue tucked away. She’s changed her attire to draw less attention, and as they walk in the hazy dawn light towards the bridge separating the sister cities, it feels almost normal. Casual. Not at all like the last time they spoke, they were about to fight side by side in a battle for their lives. Not at all like he spent two years thinking she’s dead. That still stings, but knowing how she felt back then, the state she was in before he talked her down from the edge, the pain she’s been through, Ekko can’t bring himself to feel resentful. He only wants to hold her and tell her it’ll be okay because she’s not alone. 

“You’re not saying, are you?” he asks, hands in his pockets. 

“Nope,” she replies, popping the p. “Can’t.”

Words rush to his tongue. Insistence that she can and should stay—that there’s space here for her, not just in his life, but in the new Zaun he’s helping to shape. He almost admits it to her then. That he’s built this for her and the ones they lost along the way. 

Ekko continues walking, staring at the ground, noticing too late she’s fallen behind. He peers over his shoulder and freezes when he notices what’s caught her attention. The mural. Welcoming anyone coming into Zaun. Her face, slightly younger but now immortalised, peers back at them. 

“You drew this.”

He loosens a breath. “Yeah, I did. I, uh, just…”

Jinx reaches for her own face, fingertips ghosting over the painted wall. There’s tension on her face when she turns to look at him, something piercing and hard and thoughtful. Same pinch to her eyebrows he saw earlier in his bedroom. 

“I won’t let them take you,” he says softly. “If they came for you. I would fight for you.”

She doesn’t break their eye contact. “I know. You shouldn’t, but I know you would.”

“Then stay.”

She saunters forward, stopping only when they’re almost chest to chest. “I’m not her, y’know? The other me. The one you love.”

He smiles, huffing a small breath, refocusing on her and her small pout. Ekko reaches forward, tucking a few stray strands back under Jinx’s hood, lingering for a beat. “I wasn’t her Ekko, either. That’s why I came back. I like this version of you just fine. But just so we’re clear, every version of you is a pain in my ass.” He tugs on a small braid, grinning when she shoots him an annoyed glare and slaps his hand away. “But I won’t have it any other way. Wait, no. It sure as hell would be simpler if you didn’t try to kill me anymore, but I guess I’ll deal with that, too.”

Jinx snorts, absently reaching for the spot he touched, her gaze softer than before. “Ha! You hit like a girl, by the way. I never got to tell you.”

“You tried to blow us up.”

“Eh,” she whines. “That was one time. You gotta let that go.”

Ekko exhales a small laugh and realises he hasn’t smiled or laughed this much in years. Joy was leeched from him with her absence, and while he did his duties, there was no security of Jinx’s usual push and pull to keep him balanced and focused. Even when they were enemies, hunted each other down and attacked each other, they existed on opposite sides of a perfectly balanced sphere. 

Her nearness, the relief of having her there, overshadows the darker recollection of that afternoon when she tried to blow them up more than once. Memories so painful Ekko wishes to scrub them from his mind forever, yet they remain seared into his psyche. 

She grabs his elbow, dragging him forward, breaking the surrounding gloom. “Come on then,. Things to do, things to see.”

And Ekko does what he’s done since they were young. He follows her. Because they might not have tomorrow.

.

The day goes by too fast. Almost a blur. A series of snapshots Ekko will lock away in his mind forever. He never expected he’d get to do this again. This is something his younger self could have only dreamt about once. When they dreamt of simpler things; flashy toys and delicious sweets, things only a young boy could fantasise about, aside from a loving home, because at least that much he had. 

They walked and talked and joked around, eating street vendor food all day. Ekko knows they’re pushing their luck, but he can’t help himself. Jinx grew up here. This is her home too, and he wants to show her the progress they’ve made. There’s something comfortable about her snarky commentary and ill-timed jibes at the Council members. She asks about Vi only once, in relation to Cait, and Ekko tells her the truth. 

They’re happy. They’re together. She nods, satisfied, and moves on.

“We should go see Jericho next.” It’s an offhand suggestion while they walk the newly paved river path. Now people from the Undercity can enjoy the same luxury of having a peaceful sidewalk to take their kids down. It’s amazing how it’s the small things that bring people happiness. 

“Can’t,” Jinx replies, glancing towards the setting sun. Her smile twists; it’s still a smile, but it’s sad, in a way. “Sorry, hero.”

He takes several seconds to speak. “So, you’re leaving anyway.”

“Yes. I told you I can’t stay.”

“It’s a pity, then.”

She tilts her head. “Why?”

Damn her for even asking. Damn her and all the shitty circumstances for keeping them apart. Damn her for picking him during that game of hide and seek years ago. Damn her for being there for him and not being there at the same time. Damn her for being his entire world for years. Even when Ekko thought he hated her, he wasn’t free of her. He never could be. His girl with blue hair. 

He’s in love with her, in every possible way, but they both know they can’t work like this. There’s too many ghosts for Jinx here, and despite the changes, Ekko can’t promise her she won’t get dragged off to Stillwater the moment authorities find out she’s alive after all. 

Ekko frowns, clenches his fists, and walks away. 

But she’s like an anchor to him. He stops several paces away, tied to her. “You’re gonna break my heart.”

They’ve been everything from friends to enemies and strangers to reluctant allies again. So much of his life has revolved around her. Continues to revolve around her. Past and present. But if Jinx sends him away now, if she walks away, Ekko will let her go. Because he can finally rest easy, knowing she is alive and well, even if they’re apart.

“In any other universe, I might have loved you,” she breathes. 

He pivots towards her, his nostrils flaring. “Love me in this one,” he insists, reaching for her. Ekko cups her cheeks, tilting her head until her hood slips back down, exposing her blue hair to the setting sun. He’s glad there’s no one in sight because he can’t think straight right now. “Choose me now. Ask me to go away with you. Ask me.”

He presses his forehead to hers. Jinx’s empty gaze appears glazed over, her thoughts far away no matter how hard he tries to grip her and hold her close. 

“I don’t deserve you, boy saviour,” she whispers emptily. “You’re good.”

“No one decides for me, Jinx. Not even you.”

She blinks owlishly, searching his wild stare, a pained expression on her face, her fingers knotting against her chest. “What if you don’t want me after a while? I’m… different and if I get bad again... What if—”

“Ask me, damnit.”

Jinx loosens a shaky breath, jumping through a hundred micro-expressions in a few seconds. A painful mix between hope and dread. 

“C…” Her eyes squeeze shut. “Come with me.”

Ekko sags in relief. “Yes.” He holds her, wraps his arms around her despite the unsure way she folds against him. As if she’s unsure where to put her hands. If she should. “Yes, I’ll come with you. I don’t care if you’re different. I want you as you are, okay? No matter where we are.”

A tremulous breath wheezes past Jinx’s lips. But with that, she melts into him, burying her face against him. Her embrace grows desperate and tight, a tremble shuddering through her body. 

“Always a dance with you, huh?” he says after a moment.

She chuckles, the sound warming his collarbone. “And you still got two left feet, boy wonder.”

Constants and variables, young Ekko, Benzo told him once. Everything bad that can happen in this universe might come to pass, but so might everything good.

----

an: ahh I know this isn't really my usual offering but I really hope you guys enjoyed, it's been a while since i've cared enough about canon/canon ship to do this.

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Coparenting with Joel, he finds out the man you’re newly dating is a danger. ]

PART TWO

Meeting for thanksgiving dinner.

Joel sat down watching as Henry’s hand settled on your lower back. Sarah and Tommy could be heard joking around in the background with Everly as all of Joel’s focus fell on another man touching you.

Angst

Just as you turned off the stove the bell rung unexpectedly.

“Joel?” You whispered to yourself as you saw him through the window.

“Did you forget something?” You asked as you opened the door.

“We need to talk” the look of concern in his eyes caught your attention. Quietly you let him in and had him follow you to the kitchen as Everly lay on the living room floor watching tv.

“Dinner is ready, if you’d like I can make you a plate” he shook his head distracted with what he had to say.

“How much do you know about this Henry guy?” You turned to him confused by his question.

“Um, I’m still getting to know him, I know some things-“

“Like what?” You knew Joel, something wasn’t right.

“He doesn’t have kids, he lives alone, he runs his mechanic company- why are you asking me this?” You rubbed your forehead with a puzzled expression.

“I don’t think you should see him anymore-“

“What? Joel-“ you almost laughed. Who was he to tell you who to and not date?

“Look, there’s some things about him that just ain’t right-”

“What things?” You placed your hand on your hip with a sigh.

“What did you do a background check on him?” You spoke sarcastically as he moved closer leaning in toward you.

“And what if I did? He’s around you and our daughter” he spoke low.

“Alright, this is getting ridiculous. Where are you going with this?”

Joel looked towards the door to make sure Every wasn’t near before turning back to you, an intense look in his eyes.

“He’s got a damn order of protection on him from another woman he was with before he met you,”

“Joel-“

“He was stalkin’ her and it wasn’t just her” you looked up at him silently unsure how to take in this information.

“How do you know this?” You asked softly noticing the uncomfortable swallow with your question.

“How?” You repeated.

“Sam-“ you instantly turned walking away.

“I don’t wanna hear about Sam! So your drunk irresponsible friend who’s already got you into trouble before is who you’re trusting with this information?!”

“I don’t think he’s wrong” he walked towards you as you kept your back to him prepping Everlys plate on the counter.

“And what if it’s not the Henry I’m dating? Then what? What if it’s just another one of his mix ups?” Joel stood silent before you finally turned back to him.

“Look I’m sure you don’t like the fact that I’m dating again and-“

“You think I’m lyin’? You think I’d lie about somethin’ like this?”

“No, Joel. I just think you jumped on the wrong information” you could see the frustration he felt that you didn’t believe him.

“You think so? Or you think he really coincidentally just keeps runnin’ into you and Everly?”

“It’s a small town, Joel. Look..” you sighed.

“This week is thanksgiving and I was thinking of inviting him for dinner with you, Tommy…the girls. He’s really nice, Joel, I don’t think it’s him-“

“Are you listenin’ to what I’m sayin’ dammit” he snapped in a low voice as Everly ran up to the door.

“Daddy?”

Joel sighed and crouched down as Everly ran up to him.

“Hi, honey”

“Are you picking me up again?”

“Not right now, baby, soon I promise” he assured her as she smiled and ran out the room. Joel stood back up as you leaned back against the counter crossing your arms.

“There’s no proof on this, Joel-“

“Come on, what are the damn odds in it being the same damn mechanic named Henry?” he whispered.

“I’m not going to argue about this with you without certainty especially with who this came from. I don’t trust Sam, you know that. You either come Thursday or you don’t” you stubbornly responded.

“I’ll be here” his voice was cold.

Joel left you thinking over what he had said. What if it was true? But then again thinking about who it came from…it couldn’t be true. Sam must have it all wrong like he usually does.

It was Thanksgiving day as you spent the day cooking, Sarah rushed over to help you excitedly. You promised her this year you’d teach her how to make a turkey. Joel and Tommy arrived with desserts and drinks offering to help in anyway they could.

You hadn’t spoken to Joel since he had come over a few days earlier yet you could feel the slight tension with him no one else seemed to notice. After finishing up the food you ran upstairs to change before coming back down in a new brown dress you bought with black boots. Joel sat on the floor playing with Everly before Sarah’s comment caught his attention.

“Woah look at you! You look beautiful!” Joel looked up and was completely taken back, captivated by your beauty when the bell rang.

Henry had arrived.

You felt your heart racing as you opened the door. You wondered what the night would be like, how would Joel act?

“Hi” you grinned happily as Henry greeted you with a basket full of cookies and a bottle of wine.

“Oh my favorite” you sighed before tip toeing to kiss him. Joel wasn’t one with a poker face, the sight of you kissing another man wasn’t one he thought he’d ever be ready to see. Tommy nudging him on the shoulder making him snap out of it, he cleared his throat and stood up.

“Guys this is Henry, Henry, you remember Joel,”

“Of course” Henry grinned “this is his brother Tommy and his daughter Sarah”

“Well, it’s great to meet you all” he smiled as Tommy and Sarah smiled while Joel stood rather serious, focused on him.

“So-“ you spoke up awkwardly.

“Are we ready to eat?”

“Been ready” Tommy chuckled rubbing his stomach.

“Let’s eat!” Everly yelled excitedly leading the way to the kitchen. Joel stood behind watching as Henry wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you close.

“Here-“ Joel cleared his throat as he caught up to you and Henry.

“Let me give you a hand with bringing the food to the table”

“Don’t worry about it, I got her” Henry turned to him as you stood rather awkwardly between both men.

“It’s alright, Joel. Thanks” you whispered with a smile before turning toward the counter with Henry.

Joel sat down watching as Henry’s hand settled on your lower back. Sarah and Tommy could be heard joking around in the background with Everly as all of Joel’s focus fell on another man touching you. Henry’s hand slid lower eventually gliding over your ass making Joel straighten himself in his seat, his fist clenched beside his dinner plate. Henry’s hand placement did distract you but him giving your ass a squeeze was what made you gasp.

“Henry” you whispered looking over at him.

“Not in front of them please” you smiled awkwardly.

“Why not?” he chuckled still not removing his hand.

“Please, it’s there first time meeting you-“

“Worried about your ex?” He raised a brow.

“No, it’s just…can you just be respectful” Joel furrowed his brows as he noticed you gently push his hand away but that didn’t stop Henry.

“Oh give me a break” he laughed putting his hand right back where it was and pulling you toward him.

“Let’s just put the food out” you whispered before turning to the table with a smile.

“This smells delicious” Tommy spoke excitedly.

“Well, with Sarah’s help it did come out delicious” you sat beside Henry with Everly on the other side of you in a booster seat.

“Thank you for teachin’ Sarah how to make the turkey, I know it wouldn’t have been the same if I did it”

“Cause you suck at cookin’” Tommy chuckled making you laugh.

“What are you laughin’ at, you used to love my spaghetti” Joel teased, bringing back a memory that made you smile.

“That I did” you whispered almost forgetting Henry was right beside you until he placed his hand on your lap.

“Well-“ you cleared your throat, “let’s dig in.”

Tommy stood up and turned on the radio to play music so thankfully it wasn’t as silent. Everly danced in her chair as she played with Sarah before Joel decided to start asking questions.

“So how’d you two meet?” Joel looked directly at Henry wanting him to respond. It didn’t matter if you had told him, he wanted to hear what Henry had to say.

“Well, she came in one day needing to fix something in her car. I had already been seeing her since she passed by my job on days she walked to work. I’d see her drinking her coffee hoping she’d come in one day , -“ his words leaving you with a puzzled expression.

“You’d see me walking to work?”

“Mhm”

“That’s strange, because usually if I walk I take another route that wouldn’t pass your job, I mean I don’t remember passing it” you sat lost in thought as Joel leaned forward.

“That’s so weird I can’t remember-“

“Must’ve been a while ago then” Henry chuckled nervously.

“But anyway, the day you finally came in-“

“What was it that made her finally come in?” Joel asked as he took a bite of his food.

“Flat tire” he responded.

“Somehow I managed to drive over glass or something that slit it, I swear I have the best luck. I had no choice but to stop at Henry’s, it happened just as I came out of work”

“Hm” Joel squinted his eyes at Henry who looked over at you.

“Ain’t that convenient. Happen to have a mechanic right by you, huh” Joel continued. You could hear the sarcasm in his voice and looked up at him.

“I think Everly is loving the turkey” Sarah said giggling distracting all of you. You laughed looking over at your daughter but could feel Joel’s eyes on you..

Just as dinner was over everyone

moved to the living room to watch TV. Henry and Tommy lost in a conversation about football as you began cleaning up. Sarah offered to stay with Everly as Joel began to help you clear the table.

“I hope you enjoyed everything” you spoke softly without looking at him.

“Course I did” he responded without taking his eyes off you. You could tell there was more he wanted to say but before he could you stopped him.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking.” You whispered.

“He did not do that to my car-“ his shoulders tensed up as you spoke.

“it could happen to anyone” you continued.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” He looked down at you, eyes focused.

“I’m not having this conversation anymore” you began to turn away just as he caught you by your arm when Henry entered the kitchen.

Clearing his throat standing at the doorway, Joel quickly let you go as you stood awkwardly.

“You alright?” Henry approached you ignoring Joel beside you.

“Yes, how about we try those cookies you bought?” You smiled quickly turning away grabbing the basket as Henry looked up at Joel. Joel glared at him before you turned back and led Henry out…you knew the evening was far from over….

(I’m so sorry it’s short!! I’ve been very caught up with my daughter but I wanted to post this today for thanksgiving. I’ll continue it soon! I promise. Thanks for your patience. Some tags did not work so I’m sorry if you weren’t tagged.)

Tags:

@moonpascal @katmoonz @joelsteinfeld @picketniffler @stcrrjoon @itsamandi @starry-eyes-love @theoraekenslover @psychoenergy @joeldjarin @bambisweethearts @baronessvonglitter @guelyury @mynameistokyo @harriedandharassed @locaparapedrito @untamedheart81 @rosaliedepp @illyanam1011 @hopefulatrocity @tikikiki @thewritermj @l0veang3l

@manuymesut

@katiemarieeee @unknownomgg

@secretcheesecakenacho

@missladym1981

@sunnytuliptime

@xmaykeca

@dendulinka6

@wintersquirrel

@malfoycassimalfoy

@scorpio-echo

@orcasoul

@mysteryhexgirl

@locaparapedrito

@alloftheimagines

@mystickittytaco

[fungateshortcakes]

Tummy ache

Do I have kids? No. Do I want kids? Fuck no. Did I still write this because dad logan makes me feel a certain type of way? HELL YES

Pairing: Worst!Logan x single mom!Reader

Summary: It's late and your little daughter Laura won't stop crying and screaming, no matter what you do. You take her to your best friend Wade, who lives in the same apartment buildung. Will he and Logan be able to help you?

Wordcount: 3.4k

Warning/tags: english is not my first language, fluff, slight missunderstandings, Wade bc he needs a warning, implied sexual themes, friends to lovers, just cuteness, Laura doesn't exists as an adult like in the movie, rushed ending?, leave me alone I finished this at midnight

__________________________________

Logan was snoring on the couch in Wades apartment when loud, frantic knocks sounded on the door. He grumbled in annoyance as he turned, pulling a pillow over his head.

He heard Wade skip to the door in a pair of white underpants with hearts on them and a loose, grey wolverine fangirl shirt. "Must be the horse dildo I ordered" he spoke happily as if it was the most normal thing to say. Once Wade opened the door, the piercing shrieks of a baby crying echoed through the apartment.

You held your one year and a half old daughter in your arms, her face red as she cried into your shoulder. Wade noted that your hair was a mess and you seemed awfully tired. Well- it was late and on any other day, you and your daughter would already be sleeping. But there was clearly something that bothered her. She had been crying and screeching and in discomfort for an hour without you finding what caused it or how to fix it.

You tried feeding her, but she wouldn't open her mouth for the spoon. You tried reading to her, but she would always push away the books. You changed her diapers in case her sensitive skin was irritated by the dampness, but she hadn't peed. You didn't know why she was so distressed and nothing seemed to distract her from whatever it was that made her cry.

You were desperate. And while your best friend Wade wasn't really...fond of kids, which you couldn't blame him for, you still went to him for help. You never truly wanted kids yourself. But when the condom broke and your ex left you upon finding out you were pregnant, you were stuck with your baby. And now you wouldn't trade her for the world. Except in times where she was screaming with no appearant reason. "Hey Wade, I'm so sorry to bother you guys this late at night, but Laura, she won't stop crying. I've tried everything and I don't know what to do" you croaked, rocking the small child in your arms, shushing her to no avail.

Wade brought you inside so you wouldn't stay outside in the hallway any longer. No need for some neighbors to peek their head out of their doors to see what was going on.

In situations like these, Wade could be oddly serious and actually tried to help. He knew you were insecure because of your baby. You didn't want to be a nuisance or burden to anyone because you knew that your daughter could be a lot. Kids were high maintanance and you didn't want to make people feel like they were obligated to make room and drop everything once you arrived with your child. You couldn't expect from anyone that they were okay with you bringing your kid over. But Wade wanted you to know that even though he didn't like kids, you were his best friend and Laura had been nothing but a sweetheart so far. You were always welcome in his apartment.

Wade kicked Logan from the couch "Get your fat ass off the couch, the Lady needs a place to sit" he loudly said over Lauras crying. Logan groaned. You sat on the sofa and tried to take up as little space as possible. "Im sorry Logan, didn't want to disturb your sleep." you apologized meekly. "I can..I can move to the chair here" you muttered, pointing to an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair that replaced an armchair, which had recently been thrown out of the apartment due to mysterious stains and various rips and cuts in the fabric.

You had met Logan a few times since he lived with Wade and Althea. And you would be a liar if you said he didn't catch your eye. He was tall, broad and very handsome, pretty much right up you alley. But there was no way he was looking for a chaotic single mother that barely had her life together and struggled to raise an unplanned child because her ex left her. Yeah, no. You were miserable. Logan didn't need any of that.

Adding to that, he always seemed to avoid you when Laura was near. You just thought he didn't like kids, which was totally fair. Truthfully, Logan liked kids and had always wanted some of his own, but it just...never happened. With him being the worst wolverine and all.

Then why did he avoid you and your baby?

Simply said, he didn't want to scare her. Most kids looked at him like he was some sort of big, bad monster. Some ran away, some started crying, others hid from him behind their parents when he walked by. He wasn't good with children either because they never let him close enough before getting scared. He was afraid that Laura would react the same way like all children did. He didn't want you to back away once you realised that Laura didn't approve of him.

He couldn't bear only seeing you from afar.

As you were about to stand up from the couch, Logan stopped you. "No, its fine. Stay on the couch. I can move" he replied and you felt another pang as he moved away from you again.

Wade leaned over the couch, looking down at Laura who was still wailing uncontrollably. You sighed deeply, a throbbing ache behind your eyes. "Why won't you stop crying? What's wrong, sweetheart?" you nearly sobbed as well. You were so tired of this, so tired of this sound. You felt so helpless and stupid. "Maybe she wants some food? We have some left-over pizza, I can grind that stuff up into a slurry for her or something" Wade suggested.

You softly shook your head. "She doesn't want to eat, I tried. I also tried to read her a bedtime story, but she just push me away. I also changed her diapers but nothing helped" you rasped, ready to just fall asleep on the spot.

Wade reached down to get your crying daughter out of your arms. "How about you get some sleep while Wolvie and I take care of Laura? Maybe we'll find out what's rubbing her the wrong way." Wade said, cooing to your crying baby. You fell onto the couch, closing your eyes. "I can't just sleep when she is crying" you mumbled, clearly deadly tired.

"We'll take care of her. You go sleep" Logan drawled and his deep voice soothed you even more, made you even more sleepy. It was so easy to let your body betray your mind and you hated it. "Okay..." you whispered, too tired to argue. And before you could snuggle into the couch cushions, you felt two strong arms slip under your body and lifting you up as if you weighted nothing. You were so tired, you couldn't even gasp or protest as Logan brought you into Wades room, your senses enveloped with his scent.

He carefully lowered you down onto the matress, covering you up with a blanket. "Sleep tight, love. We'll take great care of your little one, so you don't have to worry about a thing" he drawled softly and only after closing the door behind him did he hope that you hadn't catched his slip-up, that he had called you love.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

In had been another two hours of constant crying and screaming. The kid must be exhausted from all the crying, but she still didn't stop. If you asked Logan, it became even worse.

"God, can you shut up for a minute? I am trying everything here!" Wade stressed, bouncing Laura in his arms and patting her back. "Don't tell your mom I said that" he whispered right after. Laura wailed and pushed herself away from Wade with her tiny hands, which were surprisingly really strong. She squirmed in his grasp, desperate to be set down.

"This is how you thank me? I've worked my ass off the past hour to get everything to your liking and now you push me away?" he grumbled, but set her down with a loud 'ouch!' after she started to scratch him.

Her tiny feet waddled against the livingroom floor as fat tears rolled down her chubby cheeks. She had a tummy ache, but she couldn't communicate that with anyone. There were a few words she knew and could say- cat, dog, mama. But she didn't have the words to say that something was hurting.

Logan sat on the couch and watched her as she stood a few feet away from him with her red face, screaming together the whole neighborhood. He sighed deeply, the sound making his ears ring. Then, out of nowhere, she waddled over to him.

"No, no, bub. Not a good idea. Get back to uncle Wade" he told her, scooting up the couch a bit more. He could have just stood up and walk away- why didn’t he? Laura stood between his legs now, demanding uppies from him as she cried. Logan shook his head, ready to call Wade from the kitchen, when Laura began screetching, stretching herself to Logan, standing on her small tip toes.

With a huff, he picked her up, his big and warm hands eveloping her small body. He leaned back against the couch with her on his lap. To his surpise, she quieted down. "You okay now, bub?" he asked her, jumping as she snuggled herself against his chest. Due to his mutation, Logan was always very warm. His whole body was like a heater and that warmth soothed Lauras tummy ache, unbeknownst to him.

The apartment was quiet now, only a few hiccups and sighs coming from Laura as she let her stomach ache be washed away by Logans cozy warm body. He didn't know what to do! One minute he was tortured by her screams and now she was napping on him. On him! Out of all people, she chose to rest on him.

"Is she dead!?" It was now Wades turn to yell as he came stumbling into the kitchen because it suddenly went all quiet. Logan didn't answer him nor did he move a muscle, too scared to wake your baby up.

"What the fuck" Wade blurted out upon seeing something he had never thought he would ever witness in his entire life. Logan shushed him, making Wade frown. He came closer, his face next to Lauras sleeping one "You little cheating slut" he sharply whispered, earning himself a shove from Logan. "Seriously, did you knock her out? Why is she sleeping all of a sudden?" Wade asked with crossed arms.

"I don't know. She wanted me to pick her up, so I did. Then she stopped crying and fell asleep" Logan explained, a warm feeling spreading in his chest as he watched the slow rise and fall of Lauras breath, her tiny hand tightly holding onto his shirt.

"Wow" Wade said. "You're the baby whisperer" Logan shot him a glare.

Wade went on a rant about how everything would have been easier if Logan took Laura from the start before finally falling asleep draped over the chair, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts. For a moment, Logan thought about bringing Laura to you so she could sleep with her mom. But as he tried to peel her off of him, she started fuzzing and whimpering until she was laying back on his chest.

He sighed deeply. Well, gotta make the best of the situation, huh? With a grunt, he made himself comfortable on the couch and fell asleep with a broad hand securily holding Laura on top of him.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

You woke up well rested. Weird. You haven't slept this good since Laura had been born.

Laura!

You jumped awake, stumbling over some stuff in Wades room before you reached the door. It was quiet as you opened it and you were met with the sight of Logan, the fucking Wolverine, sound asleep with your daughter cuddled up on him as if he was some kind of big teddy.

Your heart soared in your chest, your stomach did flips and summer saults. And your pussy throbbed. Couldn't help it, seeing him with your baby did something to your ovaries. It was...so cute. You wanted nothing more than to snuggle up with them, trace patterns onto his pecks while Laura would squeak out an adorable smile-

"Mama" Laura squealed suddenly, flashing you a smile with her few teeth. "Hey there, baby" you cooed to her, kneeling down next to the couch to be eye-level with her. She smiled brightly, whatever it was that had bothered her yesterday completely forgotten. "You seem happy using uncle Logan as a pillow" you said to her, kissing her chubby cheek.

Logan started waking up, only registering Laura at first. "You slept well, bub?" he muttered with a deep sleep laced voice, gently rubbing Lauras small head with his large hand that easily fitted around the back of her head.

"Yes, I did. Thank you for asking" you giggled softly, amused by the way Logan nearly jumped out of his skin upon noticing that you were there too, witnessing how he went soft for your daughter. An embarrassed blush krept onto his face and he cleared his throat, sitting up and avoiding your gaze. "Sorry, she...she only stopped crying when she sat on my lap"

You smiled softly at him. "Seems like she really likes you, then." and I like you too, you wanted to add, but didn't. "She is usually not that touchy with people she barely met" you said and hearing your reassurance- the fact that Laura seemed to like him- it warmed his heart. But he would never admit that.

"Well, I guess I'm flattered" Logan replied with the hint of a smile, his gaze soft as you lost yourself in his eyes, Lauras babbling fading into the background. For a moment, you let yourself think about what could have been. This baby, it could have been Logans and yours. She could have been born because two people truly loved each other. Did Logan love you? You doubted it. But when he looked at you like that, you allowed yourself to be fooled.

"I don't know how you manage to fuck each other just with your eyes, but get a room. There are children present" Wade suddenly said outraged, covering Mary Puppins eyes.

You picked up Laura from Logans lap, holding her against your hip to bring distance between you, Logan and Wades teasing. Logan cleared his throat, clearly disappointed.

"I am so, so thankful that you guys helped me. I don't know what you did or what was wrong with her, but she seems all better now. Is there anything I can do to show my gratitude? you asked, gently bouncing Laura in your arms.

Logan shook his head "No need, bub" he grumbled in his deep voice. He would have done this a thousand times if it meant he could hold your baby in his arms as if it was his. "Make that creamy ass mac and cheese and my life is yours. That stuff tastes and sounds better than any pussy" Wade chimes in, making you laugh. You promised to invite both of them over for dinner sometimes this week and they happily agreed. Laura squeaked out a cute "bye!" before you went back to your own apartment again.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Ever since that day, visits to either Wades or your apartment became more frequent and Laura couldn't be happier seeing Logan pretty much every day. She would stick to his leg from the minute she saw him and to the last second before he left. It was adorable and made you fall even deeper in love with someone you could never have.

Wade made it his mission to steal Laura away from you and Logan. Partly because he wanted you to spend more time alone, and to teach her some words since he was her 'uncle' after all.

Laura sat on his lap, staring down at Wades phone. He looked over her head. He had a picture open that showed you, Laura, Logan and Wade. "And who is that?" he pointed to you, earning a delighted squeal from Laura as she pointed to your smiling face on the picture as well "Mama!" she babbled. Wade cheered her on, applauding her. "That's right, and that is Dada. Dada" he pointed to Logan. Laura recognized him, smiling brightly and giggling, but she didn't say anything. "Can you say that? Dada?" Wade asked in the best baby voice he could muster. But still, Laura wouldn't say anything. "Come on, say Dada. Da-da" Wade tried one last time, but Laura unwrapped himself from his arms to go and play with some toys scrattered on the floor. He huffed in frustration. It was easier to teach kids swear words than this.

Two days later, the day for the dinner came and someone rang your doorbell. You left Laura to play on her playmat and went over to the door, opening it a slit before realising that it was Logan. You fixed your hair with flushed cheeks, you hadn't expected him to come this early, you had just started the dinner preperations. "Oh, hey Logan. What are you doing here? Dinner was planned in two hours" you said, gingerly letting him into your apartment which you hadn't had the time to tidy up yet. Logan wasn't the guy to judge, but you still felt insecure.

"I thought I'd help you with the cooking and all. Look after Laura so you can work in peace" he said, knowing that he was just here to spend more time with you and Laura alone to give him the feeling of having his own little domestic family that he will never actually experience.

You smiled at him "That's very nice of you, but Laura is actually being very umcomplicated today" speaking of which, you showed him that your kid was silently playing with her toys. Upon noticing you and Logan, she squealed and stood up slowly, trying to keep her balance, before she waddled up to him excitedly. "There's my little pumpkin" he drawled, bending down to pick her up swiftly.

"Dada!" she giggled, making you an Logan stop in your tracks. "Did you hear that?" he asked you, looking over at you with a shocked expression. You frowned. You had never taught her to say that. "Sweetheart, who is that?" You asked the little girl, tapping Logans arm, just to be sure you hadn't heard her incorrectly. "Dada" she squeaks again, playing with his coarse beard.

You both looked at each other in disbelieve and for a second, you feared Logan woulf shove Laura into your arms and leave. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't know where she got that from" you tried to apologize, but the rejection from Logan never came.

He held her lovingly to his chest, giving her forhead a kiss. It made your heart pound faster. "No, it's okay" he reassured you, his large hand enveloping the back of Lauras head. "I...I could be her dad. If you want me to be" his question struck you like lightning, it was like a damn marriage proposal.

A marriage proposal you would never say no to. He looked at you with hopeful eyes, waiting for your answer and worrying he had overstepped.

"Yes. Be the father she never had. And please be the love I always wanted" you whispered, leaning up to kiss him. The kiss was soft, your lips brushing against the other and it was nothing you had ever felt before. You had kissed your ex- but never did it feel like this. So right. His free hand snaked around your waist, deepening the kiss until Laura decided to pull at your shiny necklace.

You smiled at her, taking her into your arms. "Do you want to play with daddy while I make mac and cheese?" you asked your daughter and minutes later, Logan had brought her playmat and some toys into the kitchen to sit beside her on the ground to watch and entertain her. It was like nothing had changed. Little did you know, Logan had accepted the little girl as his daughter way before today, even if you guys had never confessed.

And as you stole glances down to Logan, who was already looking at you with these half lidded bedroom eyes, you knew that after dinner, Logan and you would be trying for Lauras sibling.

_______________________________

I really hoped you liked this, I feel like I've rusted a bit. Still got a lot of smut ideas and fics open that I need to finish. Wish me luck☹ if you saw any grammatical mistakes, no you didn't. Leave me alone im tired

Btw, thanks to @buck-star for motivation me to finally finish this <33

[soleilapproves]

You wanna do Boxer!sukuna x reader reacting to Jake Paul vs Mike Tyson 👀

I’m crying cause all the memes about it were so funny 😭

Notes: Yuuji is Sukuna’s nephew here, he is horrible with kids.

To say that Yuuji looked up to Sukuna was an understatement. No one knew why the kid liked him so much. And before you say it was because he was a boxer then you’re wrong.

He simply liked Sukuna because he could watch anything while being babysat. Sukuna had no idea what ten year old boys enjoyed so he just gave Yuuji unrestricted access to his stuff at home. He was sure the kid would find something to entertain himself.

Jin had strict rules about letting Yuuji watch things with violence but Sukuna could not care less. The boy was growing older by the day so it wouldn’t matter if he discovered stuff like that now or later.

The afternoon was uneventful. Sukuna was laying on the couch, gardening magazine in hand to assess lawn mower prices, you were doing chores around the house, and Yuuji was watching a boxing match on TV.

Sukuna didn’t care to give his two cents on it because he really needed that fifty percent off deal for one of his favorite mowers.

The announcer on the TV began to talk about Mike Tyson fighting and that had caught Sukuna’s attention. “That guy’s fighting again? I thought he was too old,” the boxer said.

“Yeah, he’s fighting against Jake Paul!” Yuuji exclaimed with a toothy grin (well, not so toothy. He was missing one of his canines after being hit by a soccer ball earlier that week).

“Who?”

“Jake Paul, only the greatest boxer ever.” Sukuna had to double take at his nephews words. He had never felt jealous of other fighters but come on, this Jake Paul guy didn’t even seem all that. He wasn’t even a household name. How could his nephew compare him to Sukuna, multi championship winner?

The man’s eye twitched- he was itching to smack the back of his nephew’s head but controlled himself.

“You know, heh, I’m a boxer too.”

“Yeah, but you’re not a real boxer. You don’t scream in the matches and don’t pose at the end.”

Sukuna had been questioned over his skill, almost beaten to temporary immobility, and even mentally scarred from the sport. But he had never ever been invalidated in his entire career. Not until his nephew expressed his opinion. Sukuna raised his heavy arm and left a light but firm smack on his nephew’s head.

“Ow!” Yuuji didn’t even bother asking why he did that because the boy knew he had ticked his uncle off.

So much for not smacking the kid.

Sukuna only got angrier when he saw Yuuji celebrate Mike Tyson’s loss. The boy had no idea who the real legend was.

“Kid, that man is old! He obviously wouldn’t be able to fight.”

“Who cares? He lost! I wanna be a boxer like Jake Paul when I grow up,” said Yuuji while flexing his scrawny freckled arms.

If Sukuna were to be a cartoon character then steam would be escaping from his ears. “That’s it!” He lifted the kid with one hand to drag him out in the yard. “We’re gonna have a match of our own. You said I wasn’t a real boxer, huh?”

Luckily, you had heard Yuuji’s screams for mercy and you ran into the living room to stop your husband from traumatizing the child.

—

You cannot tell me that Yuuji wouldn’t beg his parents for a damn Lunchly 💀

[willowsnook]

Wouldn't have it any other way

rye with salami, ranch, and mikes way please and thank you! (idk if i did that right, i've never done this before)

jack hughes x reporter!reader

she isn’t you

——————————————————

Working as a reporter covering the NHL was a childhood dream of yours that came true. You worked your ass off in college, having internships each summer which led to an opportunity at ESPN that turned full-time after you graduated. You were ecstatic when they moved you to New Jersey to cover the Devils. It had been six months and so far you had gotten along well with all the players…well except one.

“Ya we got whacked two games in a row, so the last thing you want to do is stand and talk in front of you guys,” Jack Hughes told the small group of reporters crowding his locker, you included. You rolled your eyes which didn’t go unnoticed.

“Something to say, sweetheart?,” he said, eyes honing in on you.

You felt your cheeks flush with anger at his condescending tone. "It's our job to ask questions, Hughes. If you can't handle that, maybe you should find a new career."

The locker room fell silent, all eyes darting between you and Jack. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as he stepped closer.

"And maybe you should find a new team to cover if you can't handle a little attitude," he shot back.

The tension was palpable. You'd butted heads with Jack since day one, his arrogance rubbing you the wrong way. But this felt different, more charged.

"I can handle you," you replied, holding his gaze. "Question is, can you handle the heat when you're not performing on the ice?"

A collective intake of breath from the other reporters. Jack's eyes flashed dangerously.

"That's enough," the Devils’ PR manager said, ushering the reporters out of the locker room. You shot Jack one last glare as you followed the rest of the pool out. You knew you were going to get your ass chewed by your boss but you couldn’t help it. Jack was infuriating.

Unfortunately, your phone rang the second you were out of the arena and you listened to your boss rant at you. The moment was apparently already blowing up on social media and it was not a good look for you or Jack really. Half of the internet said you were too young to be in your job and wildly unprofessional while the other half defended you, calling Jack a dick who needs to respect women. There was another weird fan side of hockey twitter that were now actively shipping the two of you together, claiming it could be a perfect enemies-to-lovers story.

—————————————————————-

Headphones in, you watched workers out the window as they loaded luggage onto your plane. New Jersey to Vancouver was a long flight so you had splurged, upgrading yourself to first class to try maybe and get some actual sleep. The seat next to you was still empty and as the time ticked by you grew more hopeful that it would remain that way but nothing good lasts forever.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” a voice called out next to you and you looked up to meet the eyes of none other than Jack Hughes.

Your heart sank as Jack glared down at you, his tall frame looming over your seat. Of all the people to be stuck next to for a cross-country flight, it had to be him.

“Why aren’t you flying with the team?” You questioned.

“I overslept and missed the flight,” he muttered and you snorted.

Jack huffed as he stowed his carry-on and slid into the seat beside you. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. You both sat rigidly, avoiding eye contact as the rest of the passengers boarded.

As the plane began to move, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at Jack. His jaw was clenched, hands gripping the armrests tightly. Was he... nervous?

"You okay there, Hughes? Not scared of flying, are you?" you teased, unable to resist.

He shot you a withering look. "I'm fine.”

But as the plane started to take off his breathing grew more rapid and you started to get concerned. You hit a bit of turbulence trying to level out, and Jack’s hand moved towards yours, gripping it tightly.

“Sorry,” he rasped, but you kept your hand in his, caressing his skin softly with your thumb.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. “Just try and breathe.”

“I’m trying,” he snapped and you rolled his eyes. “I need you to distract me.”

“How?”

“Just tell me something about you I don’t know,” he asked looking over at you pleadingly.

“Hockey isn’t my favorite sport,” you said instantly. It felt like your dirty secret being a hockey reporter, but it was the truth.

Jack let out a strained chuckle, “oh yeah, what is?”

“Football,” you replied and he nodded at you to keep going. “I fell in love with it when I was just a kid watching Brett Farve. Him leaving the Packers was my first real heartbreak in life. I like college football more now and while I love the atmosphere of hockey, there is nothing like a Saturday night home game in the palace. The lights illuminating the fields, the smell of popocorn and hotdogs, the fight song playing in the background, and everyone knows that $20 beer tastes better watching your favorite team. What’s more romantic than that?”

If Jack didn’t have the history he had with you, he thought he might have fell in love with you right then and there. His grip on your hand loosened slightly as he listened to you speak, his breathing becoming more even. He found himself captivated by the passion in your voice as you described your love for football.

"I never would have guessed," he said softly, a hint of a smile on his face. "You always seemed so... intense about hockey."

You shrugged, feeling a bit vulnerable having shared something so personal. "It's my job. I take it seriously."

"Maybe too seriously sometimes," Jack muttered, but there was no real bite to his words.

The plane leveled out and you both realized you were still holding hands. You quickly pulled away, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"Thanks," Jack said, avoiding your gaze. "For, you know... helping me through that."

You nodded, unsure how to respond. This was the most civil conversation you'd ever had with Jack Hughes, and it felt weird. The rest of the flight went by without a spectacle; you were happy to catch some shut-eye, and woke up as you were about to land, Jack nudging you awake. He grabbed your bag for you, and you followed him off the plane, stopping when he turned to face you.

“Back to our regularly scheduled business of hating each other,” he said with a smirk, and you laughed.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way Hughes,” you shot back before heading off.

—————————————————————————

After a long call with your boss the next day, you were very irritated. Since the Devils were playing the Canucks, he wanted a short fluff piece about the Hughes brothers reuniting.

“It won’t be that bad,” Luke said after you tracked him down to tell him about the assignment. “You love me, and Quinn will love you.”

“I’m not worried about you two,” you told him with a look. “I’m worried about your other brother, who makes me want to jump off a cliff.”

“You’re dramatic,” he said, crossing his arms and you huffed. “We are all getting dinner tonight; just come with us. It’ll be a good chance to see us all off the ice.”

Later that night, you find yourself in the lobby with Luke, waiting on his brothers. Dressed down and out of your business wear, you felt more like yourself in a cute white sweater and jeans. Jack stepped out of the elevator and you immediately crossed your arms, already not in a good mood seeing him.

“Why is she here?” He asked Luke, completely ignoring you.

“She is writing a piece on the three of us, so I thought it would be nice to let her see the non-hockey side of things,” Luke explained and Jack groaned. Quinn stuck out his hand to introduce himself, and you smiled warmly at the oldest brother.

“So you’re the one who has little Jack by the balls?” He teased and Jack shoved him while you laughed.

You and Jack didn’t say a word to each other on the way to the restaurant and you luckily ended up being diagonal from him. It was a steakhouse but you weren’t that into steak so you opted for a grilled chicken salad with no tomatoes of course. Remembering that you were here for work, you kept quiet just observing the brothers.

"Remember when Jack tried to dye his hair blonde and it turned orange instead?" Quinn chuckled, earning a glare from Jack.

"Hey, at least I didn't cry when mom cut my mullet," Jack shot back, causing Luke to nearly spit out his drink.

You couldn't help but smile, seeing this different side of Jack. He was more relaxed, his guard down as he joked with his brothers. You caught yourself staring at him a few times, noticing how his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

The waiter soon returned with your food and you sighed as you watched your salad be placed in front of you with the tomatoes you had asked to be left out. You were never one to send something back, so you accepted your fate and unrolled your silverware.

“Everything look good?” The waiter asked. You nodded absentmindedly as Jack opened his mouth.

“She asked for no tomatoes,” he said, pointing to your salad. Your head snapped up and the waiter began to apologize.

“Oh it’s okay,” you said, trying to wave him off but Jack gave you a stern look that made you sit back.

“Don’t like tomatoes?” He mused. “Kind of childish, don’t you think?”

“You literally ordered a lemonade,” you shot back and his eyes narrowed at you.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s every kid’s favorite drink,” you retorted.

Jack scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Sophisticated Palette. Let me guess, you’re a black coffee type, right? So edgy.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your soda. “At least I don’t need a sugar rush to get through lunch.”

“And yet, here you are, drowning in soda. Classy.”

You gestured to his plate with a smug smile. “Says the guy who’s been avoiding the broccoli on his plate like it owes him money.”

Jack’s smirk faltered, and he glanced down at the offending vegetable. “It’s not avoidance. I’m saving the best for last.”

“Sure you are. Must be why it’s still untouched and getting cold.”

“You know, you’re a lot braver with your words when I don’t have a hockey stick in my hands.”

You shot him a fake, sweet smile. “And you’re a lot more tolerable when you keep your mouth shut.”

Quinn and Luke were thoroughly entertained as they observed the back-and-forth banter between you.

“You see what I have to deal with?” Luke said, looking at Quinn once you and Jack had finally stopped.

“Jack finally met his match,” he commented, prompting an eye roll from the mentioned brother.

The rest of the dinner passed with a mix of tension and grudging amusement between you and Jack, while Quinn and Luke kept the conversation flowing. As you all left the restaurant, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret at how quickly you and Jack fell back into your antagonistic pattern.

"So, got enough material for your fluff piece?" Jack asked sarcastically as you walked back to the hotel.

You sighed, "Probably. Though I'm not sure how to write about the Hughes brothers' dynamic without mentioning how insufferable one of them is."

Jack chuckled, surprising you. "Just make sure to mention how charming and handsome that one is too."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "In your dreams, Hughes."

As you reached the hotel, Luke and Quinn said their goodbyes, leaving you and Jack alone in the lobby. An awkward silence lingering in the air between you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He asked and you gave him a weird look, trying to figure out his angle.

“Where else would I be? I’m always front row waiting for you to mess up,” you joked and he gave you a playful frown.

“Very funny,” he said before bidding you goodbye and going up to his room. Things felt different between the two of you tonight, and you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

———————————————————————-

The Devils beat the Canucks handily and you found yourself with a couple of other reporters waiting for Jack, who had scored, and a new girl that you didn’t recognize.

“Hi Jack,” the girl called out as he got settled and he looked at her amused. She looked like a puck bunny who had snuck in; beach blonde hair, fake spray tan, low cut top, you knew the type. Jesus, what had gotten into you, you thought, trying to shake off your cattiness.

“Hey, haven’t seen you around before,” he commented and she giggled. Literally giggled in response. The other reporters were amused but you kept your lips in a firm line.

“You were so great out there; it’s so impressive how hard you work,” she said and he smiled awkwardly thanking her. “Do you ever get scared when the puck comes at you?"

You couldn’t help but snort out loud when she asked that and Jack looked amused at you.

Jack’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his smirk growing wider before he turned back to the blonde with a practiced ease.

"So," he said, leaning casually against the bench, "you’re new to the media scrum, huh? They usually send someone more…" He glanced at you briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Experienced."

The girl giggled again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, well, I’m just filling in today. I guess I got lucky getting to talk to you."

"Guess I got lucky too," he said smoothly, his tone playful. "Usually, I’m stuck with—" He cut himself off, letting his eyes flick to you with mock innocence. "Well, people who don’t seem to enjoy the job as much as you do."

Your jaw tightened, but you kept your face neutral, scribbling something completely irrelevant in your notebook to avoid giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"So," the blonde continued, practically glowing under his attention, "what’s it like to be so focused all the time? You’re just so… intense on the ice."

Jack chuckled, shaking his head. "Takes a lot of practice. But I don’t think I’m half as intense as you just now."

Her eyes widened, and she laughed, her cheeks turning a shade pinker. "Oh my God, stop! I’m just trying to do my job."

"And you’re doing it very well," he replied, his voice low and charming.

You shut your notebook loudly, drawing Jack’s attention as you stormed out of the locker room, your cheeks flushed with anger and... something else you didn't want to acknowledge. You made it halfway down the hall before you heard footsteps behind you.

"Hey!" Jack's voice called out. "Where are you going?"

You spun around, glaring at him. "Away from that circus. I have actual work to do."

He jogged up to you, a mix of confusion and amusement on his face. "What's your problem? Jealous?"

"Jealous?" You scoffed, crossing your arms. "Of what? Your ability to charm airheads?"

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, that's pretty harsh. What happened to journalistic integrity?"

"What happened to professionalism?" You shot back. "Or do you always flirt with reporters during interviews?"

His expression shifted, a knowing smirk appearing on his face.

“You are jealous,” he said confidently and you were about to argue back but he grabbed a door handle behind you, yanking the door open and pulling you in it. It was a smaller equipment closet, but you didn’t have much time to look around before Jack had you tight against his body.

“She isn’t you sweetheart,” he said as your body flushed against his.

Your breath caught in your throat as Jack's words sank in. The closet suddenly felt much smaller, the air thick with tension. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his chest rising and falling against yours.

"What are you doing, Hughes?" you managed to whisper, your voice betraying your conflicted emotions.

His eyes searched yours, intense and unreadable. "Something I've wanted to do for a long time," he murmured before closing the distance between you.

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and insistent. For a moment, you were too shocked to respond. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, you found yourself kissing him back with equal fervor. Your hands tangled in his hair as his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

The kiss was everything you never knew you wanted - passionate, electrifying, and months of frustration bubbling over. His hands moved under your shirt and up your back as his touch burned your skin. Resting your head back against the wall, he took advantage, latching on to your neck, sucking harshly.

“More,” you gasped. “I need more.”

He pulled your shirt over your head and you unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes glazed over, looking at your chest and you smirked before tugging at his shirt. He lifted it off and you admired his toned body, tracing your finger down his abs. His breath hitched as he watched you and you smirked seeing the bulge against his sweats get bigger.

Jack's eyes darkened as he watched your finger trail down his abs. In one swift motion, he lifted you up, pressing you against the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips found yours again in a searing kiss as his hips ground against you, eliciting a soft moan from your throat.

"God, you drive me crazy," he breathed against your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

Your hands roamed his broad shoulders and back, relishing the feeling of his muscles flexing under your touch. Jack's mouth moved lower, trailing hot kisses down your collarbone to your breasts. You arched into him as he took a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

"Jack," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair. He looked up at you, a mix of lust and something softer. “I need you in me.”

“Let me savor this sweetheart,” he pouted and you shook your head.

“Not the time or place,” you argued back and he sighed. Pulling down his pants, you spit into your hand before bringing it to his cock, pumping a few times, causing him to hiss. Shimmying out of your pants, you let him lift you against the wall, angling himself at your entrance.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

“Just this once,” you said and he rolled his eyes.

“We’ll see,” he replied and you started to argue back but he pushed in and your head fell forward onto his shoulder.

Jack began to move, thrusting into you with a steady rhythm. You clung to his shoulders, biting back moans as he hit just the right spot with each stroke. The closet filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the slap of skin on skin.

"God, you feel amazing," Jack groaned, his pace increasing. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, urging him deeper.

"Harder," you demanded, nails digging into his back. He complied, slamming into you with renewed vigor.

The tension that had been building between you for months was finally finding release. Every thrust, every touch was electric. You couldn't get enough of him.

"I'm close," you panted, feeling the familiar tightening in your core. Jack slipped a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he urged and you cried out, his hand coming up to muffle the noise. Riding out your orgasm, you were clenching hard around him and he grunted as he kept up the pace, pounding into you.

As your walls continued to contract around him, Jack couldn't hold back any longer. He buried his face in your neck, groaning out your name as he spilled into you.

For a few moments, all that could be heard was your heavy breathing as you both came down from the intense high. Jack leaned his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your skin. You both took a few minutes to catch your breath before Jack slowly pulled out of you. You winced slightly and Jack gave you a concerned look. He handed you your clothes and you quickly put them back on, refusing to look at him.

“Y/n,” he said softly and you finally looked over at him. His face was flushed, hair all over the place, but the look he was giving you made you want to take your clothes right back off.

“This was just two people blowing off steam, nothing more,” you said and he grinned widely.

“Oh, so you won’t mind if I hook up with that other girl next time instead?” He asked and you frowned before quickly morphing into a neutral expression but Jack had already caught it.

“Ugh,” you exclaimed before opening the door slowly, peeking out before you walked out. Jack was right behind you and you thought the coast was clear until you walked right into Quinn and Luke. You froze and felt Jack still behind you as he saw his brothers.

“What were you two doing?” Luke asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

“We were just talking,” you defended, not meeting his eyes.

“Oh yeah? In the supply closet?” Quinn teased.

“It was quieter than the locker room,” Jack said.

“Didn’t sound that quiet,” Quinn shot back.

Your face burned with embarrassment as Quinn's words sank in. You couldn't bring yourself to look at Jack or his brothers, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

"I... I have to go," you mumbled, pushing past Luke and Quinn without meeting their eyes. You practically ran down the hallway, desperate to distance yourself and the Hughes brothers as much as possible.

Once safely in your hotel room, you collapsed onto the bed, burying your face in your hands. What had you done? Hooking up with Jack Hughes in a supply closet was bad enough, but getting caught by his brothers? Your career could be over if word got out.

Your phone buzzed with a text. Hesitantly, you checked it, half-expecting it to be Jack. Instead, it was from Luke:

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with us. But you might want to figure your shit out with Jack ;)”

You groaned, turning over, trying not to think about what happened in the closet or what it meant for you and Jack.

[v6quewrlds]

❝ guilt trip, t. alexander-arnold. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: every year, trent and his mates bet on no nut november. and every year trent fails to hold out. it's really not your fault you can't hold off.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: so sorry this is up so late <3 day ten of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, brief fingering, begging.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: trent alexander-arnold x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.7k.

"I can't believe it's November already," you said, your eyes fixed on the calendar. The page, a warm palette complementary to the warm autumnal hues of the season, glared back at you with a single, scribbled note: "No Nut November begins today". You sighed, knowing what this meant for you and Trent's love life for the next thirty days.

Trent sailed into the room, his broad frame casting a shadow over your thoughts. "I think this is my year, babe," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "I swear I'm gonna win that bet."

You could only roll your eyes at the sheer absurdity of the bet. "You've never made it past the first week," you reminded him, your voice laden with skepticism.

Every November 1st, you had come to expect the same conversation with Trent. You knew the drill: he'd announce the start of the "No Nut November" challenge with the excitement of a kid on Christmas Eve, and you would play along, feigning shock and annoyance. But this year, you felt a twinge of genuine annoyance. You had been dating for almost two years now, and you had hoped that by this point, the juvenile betting pool with his football mates would've grown old. But here you were, staring down the barrel of another month-long abstinence challenge.

Trent, ever the competitor, was undeterred by your eye roll. "This year's different," he assured you, crossing the room to give your arm a playful squeeze. "Me and the boys have upped the stakes. The winner gets bragging rights and a sweet little prize."

You raised an eyebrow. "And what's the prize this time?" you asked, already bracing yourself for the inevitable.

Trent's eyes lit up. "It's a weekend getaway to a posh spa resort. Imagine it, babe," he said, his voice full with enthusiasm. "Just you and me, no interruptions, no training, no matches."

You couldn't help but feel a spark of interest. A weekend at a spa was something you hadn't indulged in for quite some time. "And who's doing the challenge this year?" you inquired, knowing full well that you would be the one keeping Trent honest.

"Just me, Dom, Ryan, and Harvey," Trent listed off his competitors with a grin. "But it's mainly between Dom and me, to be honest."

You sighed, knowing that Dominik was going to be the toughest competition for Trent. "Alright, you know the rules," you said, trying to hide your amusement. "No funny business for the next thirty days."

Trent nodded solemnly. "I know, I know," he said, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. "But just think of the prize, love. A whole weekend of pampering and no distractions. We can finally relax."

You couldn't argue with that. "Fine, I'll hold you to it," you said with a smirk. "But if you even think about cheating..."

"Would I ever?" Trent protested, his eyes wide and innocent. You just raised an eyebrow at him, and he chuckled, admitting defeat. "Okay, okay, I'll behave."

The first week was surprisingly easy, with Trent's focus on the bet keeping him in check. The two of you spent your evenings watching movies and playing board games, your hands brushing against each other in innocent gestures that somehow seemed more intimate than your usual passionate encounters.

But as November marched on, the tension grew. You could feel it in the way Trent's eyes lingered on you, the way his touch slightly lingered. The air in the apartment thickened with unspoken desire, and you had to bite your tongue to keep from teasing him too much. You knew how much this ridiculous challenge meant to him, and you didn't want to be the one to make him stumble.

One evening, with about four days left to go, Trent came home from training with a new haircut, the fresh scent of aftershave wafting through the door before he did. You were in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for your dinner, but you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him. His hair was buzzed closer to his scalp than it had been that morning, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and the intensity in his brown eyes. Though you would deny it, you nearly dropped the knife at the sight of him.

"What do you think?" Trent asked, a hopeful lilt in his voice as he spun around to show you the full picture.

You couldn't help but stare. The clean-shaven edges of his head and the short, textured hair on top were always a favorite look of yours, but the excitement in his eyes was purely childlike. You bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back a smile. "Looks good," you said, your voice a little too flat. "Very clean, babe."

Trent stepped closer, leaning against the kitchen counter, his gaze trained on your reaction. "Thanks," he said, his voice a little too casual. "Thought I'd go for a change."

You could see the challenge in his eyes, the silent dare to push the boundaries of the bet. You scoffed, trying to play it cool. "Don't get too cocky," you warned him. "You've still got a few days to go."

Trent chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. "Cocky?" he repeated, his smirk growing wider at the double entendre. "Now why would you say that?"

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your expression neutral as you continued to prep dinner. "Because you know it's going to be hard to resist," you said, your voice low. "Especially looking like that."

Trent pushed himself off the counter and sauntered over to you, his movements slow and deliberate. "Is that so?" he murmured, his breath warm on your neck as he peered over your shoulder. His fingers danced across your waist, making your heart flutter despite your resolve to keep things PG for the next few days.

"Trent, don't," you chided, swatting his hand away, but not before you felt the electricity of his touch zipping through your body. You turned to face him, your desire shimmering in your eyes despite your stern expression. "You're making this impossible."

"Impossible?" he said with a cheeky smile, his thumb brushing the side of your face. "You know you want to." His voice was a low murmured tease that sent shivers down your spine.

You tried to maintain your composure, but the smell of his fresh shower gel and the sight of his toned arms flexing as he leaned against the counter was making it increasingly difficult. "I've been helping you remember?" you said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

"Ah, but what's the fun in that?" Trent whispered, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Besides, it can stay our secret?"

You knew you should be the voice of reason, but his touch was making your knees weak, and the way he looked at you with that cocky grin had your mind racing. You stepped back, trying to create some distance, but the kitchen was small, and he followed you, his hand sliding around your waist to pull you closer.

"Trent," you protested, even as she felt yourself melting into his embrace. His fingers traced the curve of your hip, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch, your body craving his warmth.

He kissed your neck, his lips lingering on your sensitive skin. "Come on, love," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "One little slip won't hurt."

Your resolve was wavering. The smell of him, the heat of his body, and the promise in his eyes were too tempting. "Trent," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "We can't. You'll lose the bet."

Trent leaned in closer, his mouth finding yours in a gentle but urgent kiss. "It's okay. I don't care anymore," he murmured against your lips. "I just need you."

You felt the last of your resolve crumbling. You pushed away the guilt that tried to surface. After all, it was just one time. And you had missed him, more than you would like to admit. "Fine," you whispered, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "But you better make it worth it."

With a growl of victory, Trent swept you up into his arms and carried you to the bedroom, leaving the chopped vegetables forgotten on the kitchen counter. He laid you gently on the bed, his hands tracing the curves of your body with a hunger that had been building for weeks. You couldn't help but feel a thrill at the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Your kisses grew more urgent, your hands more explorative. Trent peeled off your sweater, revealing your bare chest, a silent invitation that hadn't gone unnoticed. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his breath hitching in his throat. Your pulse quickened, the anticipation of his touch making your skin prickle with excitement. He kissed you deeply, his tongue dancing with yours as he untied your sweats and slid them off your legs.

Trent's strong hands roamed your body, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, eliciting a gasp from you. You reached for his shirt, tugging it over his head with an eagerness that surprised you. His skin was warm and smooth, the muscles of his chest tightening under your palms.

You rolled over the bed, a tangle of limbs and passion, the intensity of your kisses matching the urgency in your movements. You felt the heat of his erection pressing against your center, and you moaned softly, your arousal growing. Trent kissed a trail down your body, his teeth grazing your skin, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

Your hands found his hair, tugging him closer as he nibbled at your skin, teasing and suckling until you were squirming beneath him. His hand slid down your stomach, his fingers finding your wetness, and you arched your back, your breath hitching in response. He chuckled darkly against your skin, knowing just how much it drove you crazy.

Trent took his time, savoring every inch of your body as if it were his first time. His touch was both gentle and demanding, leaving you gasping for more. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips when he slipped a finger inside you, stroking you in a rhythm that had your hips moving in sync. Your legs fell open wider, giving him full access as he kissed and licked his way down your body.

The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the rustle of fabric, and the occasional sound of skin against skin. Your thoughts swirled in a haze of desire, your body responding to Trent's every touch with an urgency that had been building for weeks. You could feel the tension coiling within you, tightening with every stroke and kiss.

Trent paused, his eyes locking with yours as he reached for his shorts. Your chest heaved with anticipation, your heart racing at the thought of what was to come. He hovered over you, his gaze filled with a mix of need and love.

Without a word, he positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his erection nudging at your entrance. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed in, the sensation of being filled by him almost too much to bear. He groaned, his muscles tensing as he buried himself deep inside you. The two of you moved together, your rhythm a dance you had perfected over the years you had been together. Each thrust brought a wave of pleasure that crashed over you, making your toes curl and your nails dig into the bed sheets.

Trent moaned into your ear, his voice a mix of passion and affection that sent shivers down your spine. "You feel so good," he murmured, his breath hot and ragged. You responded with moans of pleasure, your body arching to meet his as the tension grew tauter. The room was a cocoon of passion, the rest of the world outside your window forgotten in the heat of the moment.

"Baby," you whispered, your voice a soft plea as the tension coiled tighter within you. Trent's rhythm grew more urgent, his breaths shallow and ragged against your skin. The heady scent of your combined arousal filled the room, a silent testament to your shared need.

"Yeah? Tell me what you need, pretty girl," Trent's voice was strained as he moved above you, the muscles in his arms flexing with the effort to hold himself up.

Your nails raked down his back as he brought your legs up around his waist, changing the angle and driving even deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, and you felt the orgasm building, the heat pooling in your core. "Please," you begged, your voice barely audible.

Trent kissed you again, his movements growing more frantic as he felt you tighten around him. He knew you were close, and the knowledge spurred him on. "Come on, baby," he murmured, his voice low and urgent. "What do you need, love?"

"Harder," you gasped, your eyes wide with desire. "Please, T. Harder."

Trent complied, his strokes becoming more forceful, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. Your breathing grew ragged, and your eyes squeezed shut as the wave of pleasure built, threatening to consume you. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, and you knew that with one more push, you would be over.

"Now, baby," Trent whispered, his voice a mix of command and desperation. And with one final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your orgasm ripping through your body like a storm. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as you clenched around him. The intensity of your climax took you by surprise, leaving you trembling and gasping for breath.

Trent followed closely behind, his own release crashing over him like a wave. He buried his face in your neck, his breaths coming in heavy pants against your skin. You felt him pulse inside you, the sensation sending aftershocks of pleasure through your core. Your hand gently fluttered over the trimmed hair at the nape of his neck, your touch soothing his panting breaths.

The room was quiet except for the sound of your breathing and the distant murmur of the city below. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt, knowing that Trent had just failed to win the bet. But as Trent rolled off you, pulling you close, you pushed the thought aside. For now, you would revel in the warmth of his embrace, the feel of his chest rising and falling with each breath.

Trent leaned in and kissed your forehead gently. "Worth it?" he whispered, a smug smile playing on his lips.

Your head shook but you couldn't help but laugh. "You're such a tease," you huffed, your voice still shaky from the aftermath of your orgasm.

"Couldn't resist," Trent said with a grin, his chest still heaving. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. "Besides, it's not a big deal anyway. Dom gave up this morning."

Your eyes widened in shock. "What?" you exclaimed, pushing yourself up to look at him. "You mean you could've..."

Trent nodded, his cheeky grin growing wider. "Could've," he confirmed, "but I had to make it good. For the prize, obviously."

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. "Trent," you said, shoving weakly at his chest. "I felt so guilty."

Trent chuckled, kissing your forehead again. "It's alright, love," he assured you. "I think we've been good for long enough."

You sighed, a mix of relief and annoyance crossing your face. "I guess. But you could've told me sooner," you pouted, snuggling closer to his warmth.

Trent shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?" He leaned in, kissing your cheek. "Besides, we both know I was going to win anyway." His voice was full of good-natured arrogance, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes, even as you felt a warmth spread through your chest at his confidence.

The tension of the past few weeks dissipated into the comfortable silence that had become a familiar blanket between you. Your mind raced with what you could say to scold him, but the feeling of his strong arms around you, his heart beating steady and strong against your chest, was too comforting to let go.

[henry7931]

Swap Short: Thanksgiving Edition

Not My Cousin Andrew’s Body!

Jamie:

I loath the thought of Thanksgiving because my family is so freaking weird! Every year we get together and all of us stay in my Uncle’s house for the night before Thanksgiving. And right before bed all of us are forced to play this dumb game. We call it, ‘guess who.’ (Which is nothing like the board game btw.)

Basically everyone randomly swaps bodies with someone else and none of us know who’s in who. We all have to try our best at pretending to know whoever’s body we’re in that year. And the last two who don’t get guessed correctly basically win bragging rights and like $500. I personally don’t want to participate but I don’t have much of a choice.

So when I arrived at my Uncle’s house, I caught up with my family. I felt the my nerves kick in every time someone mentioned the game.

I looked around the room, thinking to myself who would I be comfortable being for a day. Probably my Uncle Peter or maybe my little cousin Davie. I haven’t swapped with either of them yet. But I know one person who I’d hate to swap bodies with… my cousin Andrew. I find him repulsive!

He’s one of those far right guys who just has the most punchable face you’ve ever seen. He looks like he skips a bath every other day and I’m confident that he’s not a fan of gay people. I don’t know, I try to avoid him at all cost. Luckily I haven’t swapped with him yet and I’m hoping it stays that way.

By the time the night started to wrap up, I was so ready to go to bed. I say good night to everyone and laid in bed slowly falling asleep thinking about who I was going to be in the morning.

The Next Day…

As I wake up, it takes me a moment to get my bearings. It’s just so dark in the room but it doesn’t take me long to realize that I was no longer in the room I fell asleep in.

I stumble to find a lamp and turn it on. As I swing my new borrowed legs out of bed. I stared down at the feet that I now control.

I don’t even get up quickly, my mind races eliminating who I could possibly be until i conform who’s stubby toes I’m looking at. Andrews.

“SHITTTT FUCKKK!!! WHHHYYYYYY!!!!”

I stand up feeling Andrew’s heavier frame move and almost want to cry. I look the in mirror confirming what I already knew.

“Well this fucking sucks.”

I stare at his reflection taking it all in when I realize something else. I’m hard as a rock right now.

The bulge underneath his pjs was begging for my attention. And I didn’t want anything to do with it.

I try to ignore it but it’s difficult. His body is just soo horny!

I walk myself through the logistics and my best conclusion was to just close my eyes and pretend I’m in my body.

So I lay back in bed and pull off the pajama bottoms. And the smell of ball sweat fills my nostrils.

My eyes are still closed and I reach down to touch his dick. As his fingers embrace his dick, I feel a rush come over me.

His dick… it’s so sensitive especially his cockhead.

I trace his fingers along his balls and feel so turned on. And it’s like I don’t even have pretend anymore that I’m still myself. Even in my cousins body, it’s kinda hot jerking off with someone else’s dick.

I pump faster and faster… I start to moan. I open my eyes and stare down at my cousin’s junk.

I bring his fingers up and sniff them… they smell like a jockstrap. Who knows the last time he’s washed his dick.

I pump faster and faster…

And then the freaking door swings open!

“What the fuck!”

It’s my body standing at the door. I thought about stopping but I’m too deep into it.

He slams the door shut and runs over.

“Jamie! What the hell dude!!! Stop playing with my dick in front of me.”

“I… can’t …stop! Your body… it’s too…. Horny!!”

“Shit! Here,” he says pulling my fingers off of his dick.

Andrew wraps his fingers around it and starts working it in a way that feels a million times better.

I can’t handle it! I end up cumming everywhere and he’s now soaked in it.

“Are you kidding me??? God of course this is what happens when I swap with my gay cousin!”

“Oh come on!! It’s your body, you think I wanted to do that?”

“Maybe! I don’t know, you’re the one who likes dick!”

“Well it looks like you enjoyed the show too!”

Andrew looks down and he’s now rocking a boner. His face turns red.

“Did you enjoy jerking yourself off?,” I say to him.

He looks away and groans. “Yeah… it was kinda hot.”

“Yeah well I have to say it was hot watching my body doing the work as well. You definitely know your way with your dick”

I look at my boner and get an idea.

I grab Andrew and tug him into bed.

“What are you doing?”

“A favor.”

I pull off the pair of shorts I had on last night and my dick comes flying out.

“Wait! Are you about to?”

I grab my dick and force it down Andrew’s throat.

“Holy shit!” he screams out.

I put in the work and feel him running my hands over his body.

I run my fingers down my balls to my taint and then my hole. He squirms and lets out a little noise as I insert his digits into my hole. He tries to complain until he realizes just how good it feels.

I then pull back and decided to try something a little more freaky.

I laugh to myself thinking about how much of a mind fuck this has to be for my conservative cousin. I take both of his feet and lick them.

“Fuckkkk why is that so hot to watch,” he says to me.

“Oh you like watching me lick your feet? What if I did this…”

I wrap his toes around my dick and start pumping. He’s moaning so loud now and ends up exploding all over them.

And reaches for one of his feet and rubs the cum covered foot on my face.

“Oh my god, that was… that was amazing…” he says out of breath.

I grin at him and say, “ I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“But don’t get any ideas! I’m not gay!!”

“Are you sure? Because you just rubbed your cum covered foot all over.”

He gets agitated and says, “YEAH WELL! ITS ONLY BECAUSE IM IN YOUR GAY ASS BODY!”

I laugh and say , “then why am I not attracted to girls then Andrew?”

“Well… that’s a good point.”

“So how about you whip off my face and go get ready for the day cuz.”

Andrew grabs my shorts and throws them on.

“Don’t forget my face!”

He turns around and grabs a rag. He whips it and throws it on the ground. I giggle loudly as he storms out of the room slamming the door.

“Shit, that almost made this worth it!,” I say laying back in his naked body.

The rest of the day was fun. Mainly because I got to fuck with Andrew the entire time and he couldn’t say shit!

Andrew sat across from me and I pulled off his shoes. And then just one sock.

I sit back in the chair crossing my arms and stared at him while wiggling his toes.

Andrew gazes at them for a minute before standing up and storming out again.

As the day goes on, I watched my family trying there hardest to put up a front for everyone. My little cousin Davie was the first one out, ironically he swapped bodies with my uncle Peter.

He was pretty easy since he kept talking about how cool it was being an adult. Then it was my dad and my grandpa, then my aunt and her son… soon it came down to only four of us.

None of us were aloud to out one another. Now it’s up to the rest of the family to guess. You have my brother Ashton and my other Uncle Jessie. And then me and Andrew.

But it was one wrong guess that lead me to a victory. ✌️ Yep! I won the game (and so did Andrew technically).

We both got ushered to the front and they asked us to say a few words.

I speak up and say, “Well, I’m happy I swapped with Andrew this year. I feel like we got to know each other better and can’t say we’ve ever been closer. Is that right Andrew?” I say wrapping his strong arm around him.

“Yeah… I agree, we’re so much closer now.”

“Well good job guys!,” I says Uncle Pete in Davie body.

I grin and discreetly grab one of my butt cheeks which causes Andrew to blush.

I hear him say under his breath, “I hate you.”

“Yeah well, you got a few more hours and then we get to do this again next year,” I say softly back to him.

“Great…”

We all head to the dinner table and I purposely sit across from Andrew.

“So who’s ready for some turkey?”

[fanficsformyfaves]

Us

Agatha Harkness x Fem Witch!Reader

WARNING: ANGST, SMUT 18+, Mentions Abandonment, Mentions of Violence, Mentions Of Death, Panic Attack, Hickeys, Fingering (R Receiving), Oral (R Receiving)

PREFACE: Reader and Agatha met during the 1920's in New Orleans, when Agatha had to move once again as to not arouse suspicion for not aging. They were together for years, but one night, everything changed and Agatha leaves. A century later, she finds Reader again and convinces her to walk down the Witch's Road alongside her and her new coven

A/N: Flashbacks In Italics!

Letter In Purple And Italics!

ONE THING I'MMA DO...IS NOT CRASH THE FUCK OUT AFTER WRITING THIS (I'm reminding myself)

After narrowly escaping Alice's trial and making sure Teen was okay, gathered and started a campfire to brace the cold winter night, before resuming our journey down the road.

"(Y/N)", called out, as I turned to face her.

"Why don't you show us your battle scars?"

I take a quick glance around the group and shrug, thinking 'why not?'.

I pull up my shirt and show them the scar on my stomach, taking notice of the way Agatha's eyes lingered on my exposed skin.

"Bar fight with some random chick who thought I was looking at her boyfriend", I scoff.

"Damn", Alice muttered.

"Yeah, she took a bottle and broke it off on the table and...well. I'm pretty sure you guys can guess how that ended", I say, rearranging my blouse.

"Like I swung that way", I added, watching the ladies turn to each other chuckling.

Just then, Agatha pipes up.

"I have a scar"

"Yeah, the one on your arm", Lilia pointed out.

"Not just that one", she interjected, shaking her head.

I narrow my gaze, looking down at her. More than a hundred years later and I still remembered every inch of her body from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. If my memories served me right, that was the only scar she had.

"A long time ago...I loved someone", she began.

My heart sunk slightly, realizing who she was talking about.

"And I had to something I did not want to do...even if I had no other choice"

That was bullshit and she knew it. She did have a choice and she chose to be a coward.

"And it hurt them", she added.

Back in nineteen-twenty, the start of the Roaring Twenties era, Agatha and I met, when she walked into the speakeasy I was performing at. I was singing my final song of the evening and I spot her sizing me up from the front row. Of course, I grew bashful at the attention, but remained committed to finishing my set.

Once I was done, I take a bow, expressing my gratitude for the crowd's enthusiasm.

"You've been lovely this evening, I'm (Y/F/N), goodnight!", I bid farewell, as the room erupted with applause.

I get back to my dressing room and change into a more comfortable dress, before making my way to the bar.

"You did great, kid", the barkeep praised, handing me my usual.

"Thanks, Rusty", I say, taking the martini.

"Dirty", I hear a voice say behind me, causing me to look over my shoulder.

It was the woman from earlier.

"Pardon?", I say, narrowing my eyes.

"The drink?", she said, smirking.

I look back at my drink and that's when I realized what she was referring to.

"Oh!"

She chuckles, taking the seat beside me.

"You've got quite the voice", she complimented, bringing a pinkish hue to my cheeks.

"Thank you", I replied, avoiding her piercing gaze.

I could sense a certain air about her that intrigued me. I just couldn't put my finger on it.

"The name's Agatha Harkness", she introduced, extending a hand.

Harkness....why did that name sound so familiar?

"(Y/N)", I said, offering mine, lazily bent at the wrist.

She takes it and runs her thumb over my knuckles, causing my breath to hitch over so slightly. I couldn't help but bend to my curiosity's will.

"You said your last name was...Harkness?"

"Yeah, sound familiar?", she asked.

I had to be careful. I couldn't risk exposing the fact that I was a witch to the wrong person.

"I believe so. It might sound silly, but a long time ago, I had family that migrated out of Salem"

Her brows raise and she looks me up and down again, releasing my hand.

"Or at least that's what my mother told me. Any who, she had this book of our family's history and I think I might've seen that last name somewhere"

"Is that so?", she questioned.

Her voice sultry and soft.

"I told you it was silly"

"Not at all", she disagreed.

She takes a quick glance around the room, before subtly nodding at a waiter serving drinks.

"Watch him right there"

I do as she says and in that moment, the waiter's eyes glow a brilliant shade of purple, before he drops the tray.

My hand goes over my mouth in shock, as she let out a snort of laughter.

"You're a witch", I whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

"Yes and I know you are one too", she says, looking over at me.

I couldn't help but grin in excitement. Not only had it been years since I'd even seen another witch, but I was actually speaking to one.

"Wanna blow this joint?", she questioned, offering her hand once more.

And since that night, we'd become inseparable, spending every waking moment together. If we weren't out and up to mischief, we were on each other like fever on skin. Not a day would go by before she replaced one fading love-bite with a fresh one.

"Just so people know you're happily spoken for", she exhaled against my neck.

I was sure I'd finally met the person I was meant to be with. The twin flame that reignited the parts of me that I thought were gone for good...which only made it hurt all the more, when that fateful night came.

We were walking home through the quiet empty streets, after one of my gigs.

"Hey", she leaned in to whisper.

"Keep the corset on tonight", she said, making me chuckle to myself.

"You are insatiable"

"Can you blame me?", she sarcastically quipped.

Just then, women in cloaks began to emerge from the shadows. Sensing potential danger, Agatha immediately shields me behind her.

"Can we help you?", Agatha questioned.

"Traitor", they hissed, before the head of the group stepped forward.

"Agatha Harkness", she called out.

"You are found guilty of the murder of your coven"

My stomach drops, hearing the accusation.

"Agatha, what is she talking about?"

"Don't worry about it, sweetness", she reassured, not taking her eyes off of the seven women before us.

"Seize her!", the head ordered.

I use my powers in an attempt to knock them back, only for her to ricochet my spell and heating me right in the stomach, causing me to double over in pain.

"No!", Agatha exclaimed, before facing them once more.

They all began reciting an incantation and a beam of blue struck Agatha, causing her to groan out.

"Agatha!", I say, trying to get back up to help.

"Don't!", she yelled, holding out a hand to keep me where I was.

Just then, the stream of blue magic turned purple and within seconds, the woman began to age rapidly and grow weak. My brows knit in confusion, as I tried to process what was happening.

Eventually, they all dropped to the ground one by one, leaving Agatha in a stand off with the head of the group.

"You...were born...evil!", she struggled, before following the other women's fates with a harsh thud.

Agatha dusts herself off, rushing back to me.

"Are you okay?", she whispered, cupping my face.

"Yeah", I exhaled.

Whether or not I was honest about how I was feeling, I didn't want to burden her more than I knew she already was.

The walk home was silent, but not the kind of silence that brought comfort or peace. It was tense and daunting. I had so many questions, but knew it wasn't the right time. Even as we got to my apartment and slipped into bed, my mind raced. Who were those women? Why did accuse Agatha of such a horrible thing? Most importantly....were they telling the truth?

"I'm so sorry", Agatha muttered, holding me closer against her.

Her voice giving away that she was on the brink of tears.

"Why?", I say, turning to face her.

"That you got caught up in all of this"

I sigh through my nose, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"You would've done it for me"

Her face crinkles in agony.

"Let's just get some sleep. You can explain everything in the morning", I reassured, pressing a deep kiss to her lips.

She nods, pulling my head into her chest.

But when that morning came, my eyes fluttered open to a cold empty side. Panicked, I got up and immediately went looking for her, afraid more of those women came back in the dead of night. But when I reach the living room and find a note on the table, my heart met the floor with a smack.

My dearest (Y/N),

Meeting you was single-handedly the best part of the life I was given. You've shown me kindness, patience and a love I could never forget. I didn't think I was capable or even worthy of that kind of love, but you came in like a whirlwind and turned my whole word upside down.

And as much pain as it brings me to say this, that is also the reason why I had to leave. To ensure that I'd never bring harm to you ever again. Where I go, trouble follows and you deserve better than to live your life in fear simply because of me. I love you far too much to allow you to do that to yourself.

Sincerely,

A.Harkness

I collapse to the floor in tears, sobbing and struggling to breathe.

She was gone. Just like that. It felt like a part of me, the part that was only ever hers, was ripped away from my grasp. Years pass, people grow old and die and there I was, haunted by the one that got away.

"She is my scar"

Her eyes meet mine and the moment they did, I could feel my eyes begin to tear up and my throat start to tighten. Not wanting the group to see me upset, I got up.

"I'm gonna take a walk", I announced, trying hard to hide the tears threatening to spill.

I walk a good distance away, whilst breathing in to keep the tears from escaping. Agatha takes a deep breath, going to follow me, when Lilia grabs her by the wrist.

"She needs time", she reminded.

Agatha scoffs and rips her arm away. She eventually finds me at the top of the hill, overlooking the rest of the road. Her hand gently meets the small of my waist and that was all it took for my tears to escape.

"Don't", I say, shrugging away from her touch and turning to face her.

"Don't", I repeated, shaking my head.

"(Y/N)-"

"I don't wanna hear it. I'm only here cause Teen asked for my help", I struggled through my fading unbothered-facade.

She sighs, bowing her head.

"You're hurt", she muttered.

"Like you care"

"Don't say that. I do care"

I scoff, wiping my tears.

"That's rich coming from you. The same person who dragged Sharon into this, knowing she wouldn't survive"

"I did what I had to-"

"Stop saying that!", I cried out, causing Agatha to be taken aback.

My face scrunches up in agony, as I clutched my chest. Each breath was getting harder and harder to find.

"You...You", I broke out into sobs and Agatha rushes to sit me down.

"Is it a panic attack?", she questioned, hastily.

I try to get her away from her, but to no avail. No words would come out and all I could do was pathetically wail in her arms. All the feelings I managed to bury were all hitting me at once and there was now way of stopping them.

She takes my back against her chest, rubbing up and down my arms in an attempt to ground me.

"Count the trees. Count the stars", she ordered.

I look around and in my haze, I could make out the six surrounding trees and about a dozen solemn stars spread out across the sky.

"How many?"

"Mmm", I shake my head, fighting to find the words.

"How many, (Y/N)?", she repeated, firmer.

"Six...thirteen", I take in a shaky breath between the numbers.

"Good....good. Follow my breathing", she whispered, brushing my hair back away from my face.

We take a deep inhale, hold it for a few seconds and let it out. She repeated this till I was calm again to sit up on my own.

"That's it", she muttered softly.

She still remembered how to ease my anxiety, something I was sure she'd forgotten how to do. We sat in the tense silence for a minute, before I finally found the courage to speak again.

"Why did you come back for me? And don't say it's because of the road"

She looks down at her lap, hesitantly.

"I wanted to see you again"

It was now my turn to avert my gaze.

"What? Do you think I'm lying?"

"Well, that's kind of what you're known for-"

"Not to you", she cuts off, taking my hand and causing me to turn back to her.

"I knew you could handle it and survive, yes...but I had to know you were okay"

I stilled, contemplating whether I should take my hand away, but seemingly unable to do so.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you. How you were, what you were doing, who you were with, if you were still alive. The not-knowing drove me crazy, but it didn't matter...cause I knew keeping you safe was more important. I was a walking target and I couldn't risk getting you caught in the cross-fire", her words faltering, as her eyes began to brim with tears.

"It scared me too much", she admitted, hanging her head in shame, as tear after tear hit the ground.

"So I left...because it was easier to lose you by choice"

Her words shattered the parts of me I had just finally put back together.

"I still loved you...even after what happened", my voice reduced to nothing but whispered sobs.

"Even after you left...even now"

She turns to face me with a look of surprise.

"And I hate it", I whisper to myself, as my eyes fell shut.

She carefully cradles my face with shaky hands and my eyes reunite with hers once again.

"You have every right to", her voice stern, yet gentle.

"You needed me and I bailed. That was on me...but I need you to understand where I was coming from. If you were in my place, what would you have done? Would you have dragged me along, even if it meant putting me in danger?", she questioned.

I had no answer. I thought long and hard, but eventually came up short.

"What I did hurt you, I'm not denying that, but it was for the best. I would've never forgiven myself if...", her voice trembled.

I was stumped. Thinking about if I was in her place opened my eyes. Maybe she was right.

"If I let anything happen to you", she whimpered, sniffling.

Her eyes of ocean blue bore into mine with a sense of desperation.

"Please...I am so so sorry", she choked, sliding onto her knees and burying her face into my lap.

I take in a shuddering breath, gripping her shoulders to pull her back. I cup the sides of her face, as her eyes pleaded me not to let go.

"I love you", she muttered.

I could no longer fight it. The years of grief and solitude had finally caught up to me and before I knew it, my lips met hers in a heated exchange.

She pulls me atop of her by my waist to straddle her thighs and my fingers tangle into the roots of her hair. She then turns us over to gently lay me down against the fallen flower petals. Her lips stray from mine to my cheek and down my neck to leave a fresh bruise on my skin. I hiss, feeling her teeth graze against it, as her hands tightened like vice around my waist.

Finally, she pulls away only slightly to bunch up my skirt to reveal my lower half. Looking at me once more to ask for permission to proceed, I nod breathlessly. She spreads my legs apart, pulling my underwear to the side and wasting no time to lick up my slickness. I moan out, grasping at the roots of her hair.

"God, I missed you", she mumbled, dragging the tips of her fingers up and down my entrance.

"I missed you", I emphasized through my pants.

She hummed against my sensitive bundle of nerves, sending vibrations through it. I had almost forgotten just how good she used to make me feel. With a gentle motion, she slips two fingers into me, as I cried out her name.

"Agatha!"

"I know, baby", she reassured, stroking my outer thigh with her free hand, as she continued to devour me.

With each stroke of her fingers, she coaxed me closer and closer to my climax.

"Oh god!", I whined, bringing a smirk to her lips.

"That's it, my love", she encouraged, as she quickened her pace.

She knew just what to do to drive me up the wall and she relished in that fact, for no one else could make me feel the way she did.

"You taste so good", she praised.

I felt myself beginning to pulse around her, bringing a red hue to my cheeks from how embarrassingly fast she managed to get me to my peak.

"I feel you, baby. Do it...give it to me", she demanded, ramming directly into my g-spot.

I was then thrusted over the edge , as my vision faded to black from the overwhelming pleasure. After she was finished licking up the mess I made and helping me ride out my high, she crawled back up to share the taste of me with a desperate kiss.

"Do you taste yourself?" I nod, continuing to move my lips against hers.

Once I stilled, she rolls over and pulls me atop her chest, basking in the sweet afterglow.

"I'd say that was successful reunion", she teased, earning a scoff from me.

[urdreamydoodles]

Could we get some headcannons on how X-Men characters would deal with an s/o who struggles with verbal communication? (I was thinking someone who just struggles with words but they could be deaf or mute as well)

Like instead of talking they use notes, or gestures, or even actual sign language to communicate. I was thinking it’s usually done when the reader is struggling to ask for something directly, or just convey what they’re thinking.

(I wasn’t sure if you’d want specific characters to think of or if you’d want free rein, but I’ll list a few of my favourites; Wolverine, Nightcrawler, Gambit, Storm, Morph, Magneto, Beast)

X-Men x Reader

You struggles with verbal communication

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe, Morph, Erik Lehnsherr, Hank McCoy, Jean Grey, Rogue, Cable & Wade Wilson

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- You’d been living at the mansion for a while, and while most people understood your struggle with verbal communication, Logan didn’t seem to get it at first. He wasn’t rude about it, but his gruff nature often led him to misinterpret your gestures. “What, you can’t just spit it out?” he’d ask, crossing his arms. You’d roll your eyes and scribble something on a notepad, sliding it over to him with a sharp look. He’d grumble but take it, slowly realizing how much effort you were putting into every interaction.

- Logan started paying closer attention over time. He noticed how your hands moved when you gestured, how your eyes flicked to certain objects when you wanted something. He wasn’t the type to ask outright, but he started observing quietly, learning your nonverbal cues like he was piecing together a puzzle. One day, you found him practicing basic ASL signs in the corner of the library. “Figured it might make things easier,” he said when you caught him, scratching the back of his neck.

- He surprised you by using those signs during casual conversations, albeit a bit clumsily at first. When you were struggling to ask for help one day, he simply signed, What do you need? It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to bring tears to your eyes. “Don’t get all weepy on me, kid,” he grumbled, handing you a tissue. Still, the small smile tugging at his lips showed he was proud of himself.

- Logan’s protectiveness shone through in unexpected ways. If someone gave you a hard time about not speaking, he’d step in with a sharp glare that could silence a room. “Got a problem with how they communicate?” he’d growl, leaving no room for argument. You never asked him to defend you, but his unwavering support made you feel seen in ways you hadn’t before.

- Over time, the two of you grew closer. Logan’s patience, hidden beneath his rough exterior, was a balm to your insecurities. One evening, after a particularly long day, you handed him a note that read, Thank you for understanding me. He read it silently, then looked up at you with an intensity that made your heart race. “Ain’t nothin’ to thank me for,” he said softly. “You’re worth the effort.”

- The shift from friendship to romance was seamless. Logan wasn’t one for grand declarations, but his actions spoke volumes. He started carrying a small notepad for you, just in case you ran out of paper. And when he kissed you for the first time, it was tender, unhurried, as if he was trying to convey all the words he knew you struggled to say. “You don’t need words with me, darlin’,” he whispered against your lips. “I get you just fine.”

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy was instantly intrigued by your quiet nature, his curiosity piqued when he saw you using gestures and notes to communicate. “Mon cher, you always this mysterious?” he teased with a charming smirk. At first, you thought he was just flirting like he did with everyone, but his genuine interest shone through when he started trying to decode your gestures without making you uncomfortable.

- He quickly turned your communication struggles into a game, guessing what you were trying to say with an exaggerated flair. “You tryin’ to tell me you hungry? Or you just wanna see ol’ Remy look like a fool?” he’d say, making you laugh silently. His lighthearted approach made it easier for you to relax, even when you struggled to get your point across.

- One evening, when you left a sketchpad on the table with a note reading, I’m not sure how to ask for help, Remy’s teasing demeanor softened. “Cher,” he said quietly, taking a seat beside you, “you don’t gotta be afraid to ask me for nothin’, yeah? I’ll figure it out.” His reassurance, paired with his playful charm, made you feel safe in ways you hadn’t expected.

- Remy’s natural adaptability shone as he started learning little tricks to help you communicate. He began carrying a deck of blank cards, writing quick responses or questions for you to use. “See? Now we both got somethin’ to write on,” he’d say with a wink, making the process feel less daunting. He even started teaching you French phrases, encouraging you to write them down when words failed.

- The moment things shifted between you two was subtle but impactful. One night, you handed him a note that simply read, I like you. His red eyes glimmered with mischief as he read it, but his smile was surprisingly tender. “Well, cher,” he said, leaning in closer, “guess it’s only fair I tell you somethin’, too.” Before you could respond, he pressed a soft kiss to your hand, his actions speaking louder than words ever could.

- Dating Remy was like navigating a whirlwind of charm and affection. He made it clear that he adored you, using every opportunity to show you how much he cared. From spontaneous gestures to quiet moments where he’d sit beside you, letting your notes and signs speak volumes, Remy proved that your unique way of communicating only made him fall for you harder.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt noticed your struggle with verbal communication almost immediately, his empathetic nature drawing him toward you. “You do not speak much, ja?” he asked one day, his tone gentle and curious. When you nodded, he didn’t press further, instead offering you a warm smile. “I understand. We all have our ways.”

- He quickly adapted to your communication style, finding joy in the way you used gestures and notes. “It is like learning a new language,” he said with excitement, his tail flicking behind him. “And I am always eager to learn.” His enthusiasm made it easier for you to open up, his patience and kindness making every interaction feel effortless.

- One day, you hesitated, struggling to express something important. Kurt noticed your frustration and gently placed a hand on yours. “Take your time,” he said softly, his golden eyes filled with understanding. When you finally handed him a note that read, I don’t know how to ask for help sometimes, he nodded solemnly. “You never have to worry about that with me,” he assured you. “I am here for you, always.”

- Kurt began incorporating small acts of reassurance into your daily life, like leaving you notes of encouragement or learning more ASL to communicate with you better. His joy when you taught him new signs was infectious. “Did I do it right?” he’d ask, his tail curling nervously as he signed a simple phrase. Your smile was all the confirmation he needed.

- The turning point came one evening when you handed him a note that read, I think I’m falling for you. Kurt’s eyes widened, and a faint blush colored his blue cheeks. “Mein Schatz,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.” He pulled you into a gentle hug, his tail wrapping around you in a protective embrace.

- Being with Kurt was like stepping into a world of unwavering kindness and affection. He made it his mission to understand you, to support you in every way possible. “You do not need words to tell me how you feel,” he said one day, his fingers tracing your hand. “I can see it in your eyes. And I will always speak for the both of us, if you need.”

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott was initially unsure of how to approach you. He respected your quiet nature but didn’t want to overstep. When he saw you using notes and gestures to communicate, he made a conscious effort to pay attention, his leadership instincts kicking in. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to make things easier,” he said one day, his tone sincere.

- He started picking up on your cues quickly, his analytical mind piecing together patterns in your gestures. “You don’t have to rush,” he’d say whenever you hesitated, giving you the space to communicate at your own pace. His patience surprised you, his usually stoic demeanor softening in your presence.

- One day, after a training session, you handed Scott a note that read, I feel like I’m slowing everyone down. He frowned, shaking his head firmly. “That’s not true,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re part of this team, and we support each other. Don’t ever feel like you’re a burden.” His words were firm but full of warmth, his unwavering belief in you shining through.

- Scott began making small adjustments to accommodate your communication style, like keeping a whiteboard in the common areas or encouraging others to be more patient. “It’s not about how you communicate,” he told you one evening. “It’s about making sure you’re heard.” His support made you feel seen in ways you hadn’t before.

- The moment your relationship shifted was quiet but profound. You handed Scott a note that read, I care about you more than I can say. He read it silently, then looked up at you with a rare, soft smile. “I care about you too,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. The kiss that followed was tender, his hands cradling your face like you were something precious.

- Being with Scott meant being with someone who valued every part of you. He made sure you always felt included, never letting your struggles define you. “You don’t need to say a word,” he told you one day, his hand resting over yours. “I’ll always understand.” His quiet devotion was a constant reminder that love didn’t need words to thrive.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Ororo was naturally drawn to your quiet strength. She noticed your use of notes and gestures early on, her sharp intuition picking up on how you often hesitated to ask for help. She approached you with her characteristic grace, offering you a kind smile. “You speak in your own way,” she said softly. “And I’d like to listen, if you’ll let me.” Her calm understanding put you at ease immediately.

- Ororo quickly adapted to your style of communication. She never rushed you, instead waiting patiently for you to finish writing or signing. “Take your time,” she’d say whenever she noticed you struggling. Her respect for your pace made you feel valued, and you found yourself opening up more around her.

- One day, you handed her a note that read, I don’t know how to ask for what I need sometimes. Ororo’s serene expression softened, and she placed a gentle hand over yours. “You’ve already asked by sharing this with me,” she said. “Let me help you carry that weight.” Her words felt like a soothing balm, her unwavering support reassuring you in ways you hadn’t expected.

- Over time, Ororo began incorporating subtle gestures to show her understanding. She’d leave small notes of encouragement in places she knew you’d find them, or create gentle winds to carry your written messages to her during training sessions. Her actions spoke louder than words, and they reminded you daily of her care for you.

- The turning point came during a quiet evening in the garden. You handed Ororo a note that read, I think I’m falling for you. Her silver hair shimmered in the moonlight as she read your message, a radiant smile spreading across her face. “The feeling is mutual,” she said, her voice filled with warmth. She leaned in to kiss your forehead, her touch as gentle as a summer breeze.

- Being with Ororo was like standing in the eye of a storm—peaceful yet powerful. She made you feel seen and cherished, her understanding and empathy creating a safe space for your love to flourish. “Your voice is beautiful,” she told you one day, tracing your hand with hers. “Even if it’s not always spoken aloud, it still reaches me.”

Kevin Sydney aka. Morph

- Morph immediately took an interest in you, his playful nature making him curious about your quiet demeanor. “So, what’s the deal?” he asked one day, his tone lighthearted. When you handed him a note explaining that you struggled with verbal communication, his face lit up with excitement. “A challenge, huh? I love a good puzzle!”

- He made it his mission to understand your gestures and notes, often turning your interactions into a game. “Okay, charades it is!” he’d say, mimicking your motions in exaggerated ways that made you laugh. His humor took the pressure off, and you found yourself enjoying his company more than you expected.

- One day, you scribbled a note that read, I’m not good at asking for help. Morph read it aloud, then gave you a dramatic bow. “Lucky for you, I’m great at helping!” he said with a grin. Despite his joking tone, his sincerity was evident in the way he stuck around, always ready to lend a hand.

- Morph’s shape-shifting abilities came in handy when it came to communicating. He’d transform into a giant hand to mimic your gestures or into a cartoonish version of himself to make you laugh when you were feeling down. His creativity knew no bounds, and his efforts to connect with you were as entertaining as they were heartfelt.

- The moment things shifted between you was as spontaneous as Morph himself. You handed him a note that read, I think I like you. He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like he’d been shot. “I knew it!” he said, pulling you into a spin. When he set you down, his usual joking demeanor softened, and he leaned in to kiss you gently. “I like you too,” he said with uncharacteristic tenderness.

- Being with Morph was an adventure in every sense of the word. He made sure you never felt isolated, using his humor and shape-shifting to keep things light and fun. “You don’t have to say a word,” he told you one day, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I can read you loud and clear, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik was initially perplexed by your communication style, his analytical mind trying to make sense of your hesitations. When he realized you relied on notes and gestures, he was intrigued rather than dismissive. “An unconventional approach,” he mused. “But effective, nonetheless.” His curiosity made you nervous at first, but his lack of judgment slowly put you at ease.

- He began studying your gestures with the same intensity he applied to everything else, determined to understand you fully. “Communication is an art,” he said one day, watching as you wrote something down. “And you are a master of it, even without words.” His respect for your efforts made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t experienced before.

- One evening, you handed Erik a note that read, I feel like I’m a burden. He read it silently, his expression darkening. “You are not a burden,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You are resourceful, intelligent, and resilient. Never diminish yourself in my presence again.” His words, though blunt, were filled with an undeniable care that warmed your heart.

- Erik’s efforts to support you were both subtle and grand. He’d manipulate small metal objects to write words in the air for you or create intricate metal sculptures to convey messages when you struggled. His actions showed a thoughtfulness that contrasted sharply with his usual stern demeanor.

- The turning point came during a quiet moment in his study. You slid him a note that read, I care about you more than I can say. Erik’s sharp eyes softened as he read your words. He set the note down carefully, then reached for your hand. “And I care for you,” he said, his voice low and steady. His kiss was deliberate, filled with the kind of intensity that only Erik could bring.

- Being with Erik was like standing beside a force of nature—powerful, unyielding, and deeply protective. He made sure you always felt valued, his actions speaking louder than any words ever could. “You don’t need to speak,” he told you one evening, his hand resting gently on yours. “Your presence is enough.”

Hank McCoy aka. Beast

- Hank was fascinated by your unique way of communicating, his scientific mind eager to understand the nuances of your gestures and notes. “A fascinating approach,” he said the first time he saw you write something down. “May I inquire further?” His genuine interest made you feel less self-conscious, and you found yourself opening up to him quickly.

- He started keeping a notebook nearby, jotting down your cues and gestures like he was studying a new language. “It’s remarkable how much you can convey without words,” he said one day, his admiration evident. His encouragement made you feel proud of your communication style, rather than ashamed of it.

- One afternoon, you left a note in his lab that read, I feel like I’m too much work for people. When Hank found it, his brow furrowed, and he immediately sought you out. “You are never too much work,” he said, his voice filled with conviction. “If anything, you’ve taught me to see the world in a new way, and I’m grateful for that.”

- Hank’s support manifested in practical ways. He developed small devices to make it easier for you to communicate, like a digital notepad that converted your writing into speech. “A little invention of mine,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I hope it’s helpful.” His thoughtfulness left you speechless, your gratitude clear in the way you hugged him tightly.

- The moment your relationship shifted was as gentle as Hank himself. You handed him a note that read, I think I’m falling for you. Hank read it carefully, his blue fur bristling slightly as he looked up at you with wide eyes. “The feeling is mutual,” he said, his voice soft. His kiss was tentative but warm, filled with the quiet intensity that defined him.

- Being with Hank was like being wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and understanding. He made sure you always felt supported, his kindness and intellect creating a safe space for your love to grow. “Your voice is unique,” he told you one day, his hand resting over yours. “And I consider it an honor to understand it.”

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean noticed your quiet demeanor and alternative way of communicating long before you realized. She often caught glimpses of your emotions through her telepathy, though she never intruded. When you passed her notes or gestured instead of speaking, she responded with patience and understanding, letting you take the lead. “Take your time,” she’d say softly, her gentle smile a constant reassurance.

- Jean quickly adapted to your style, finding ways to bridge the gaps in communication. She subtly enhanced your gestures with her telepathy, sensing what you meant before you could even fully convey it. “It’s like we have our own secret language,” she teased one day, her green eyes sparkling. Her ability to meet you halfway made you feel less alone.

- One day, during a quiet moment in the mansion’s library, you hesitated before passing her a note. It read, Sometimes, I feel like I don’t belong here. Jean’s expression softened as she read it, and she reached out to take your hand. “You belong wherever you choose to be,” she said, her voice filled with conviction. “And right now, I’m glad you’re here with me.”

- Jean began leaving small notes for you as well, little affirmations that brightened your day. “You’re stronger than you think,” one read, tucked under your door. “You don’t have to say a word for me to know how amazing you are,” said another, left with your breakfast. These gestures reminded you that she was always thinking of you, even in the smallest ways.

- The shift in your relationship came during a walk through the garden. You handed her a note that read, I care about you, more than I probably should. Jean’s face lit up with a radiant smile, and she reached up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Good,” she said softly. “Because I feel the same way.” Her kiss was gentle and warm, like sunlight breaking through the clouds.

- Being with Jean felt like basking in a calm, nurturing presence. She understood you deeply, both through her powers and her heart. “You don’t need words to express yourself,” she told you one day, her hand resting lightly on your cheek. “You’ve already said everything I need to hear.”

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- Rogue was drawn to your quiet, introspective nature. She was no stranger to feeling out of place, and when she noticed your reliance on notes and gestures, she connected with you immediately. “Ah reckon we’re both a little unconventional,” she said one day, her Southern drawl soft. “But that’s what makes us unique.”

- She made it her mission to understand your style of communication, often using humor to lighten the mood. “What’s this one mean?” she’d joke, mimicking your gestures dramatically. Her teasing was never mean-spirited, and her playful attitude made it easier for you to relax around her.

- One afternoon, you left her a note that read, I’m afraid people will get tired of me. Rogue’s gloved hand tightened around the paper, her expression shifting to one of fierce determination. “Sugar, if anyone ever makes ya feel that way, they’re not worth your time,” she said firmly. “Ah’ll never get tired of ya, that’s for sure.”

- Rogue’s physical limitations due to her powers didn’t stop her from showing her care. She’d use small gestures like slipping notes into your jacket pocket or brushing her covered hand against yours to reassure you. Her creativity in expressing her feelings mirrored your own, making you feel understood on a deeper level.

- The turning point came during a late-night conversation in the mansion’s common room. You passed her a note that read, I think I’m falling for you. Rogue’s green eyes widened, and she bit her lip nervously. “Ah’ve been feelin’ the same way,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She leaned in, her gloved hand cupping your cheek as she kissed you carefully, mindful of her powers.

- Being with Rogue was like finding a kindred spirit. She understood the challenges of feeling different and made sure you never felt isolated. “You don’t need to say a thing, darlin’,” she told you one day, her smile soft and warm. “Ah know exactly how ya feel.”

Nathan Summers aka. Cable

- Cable’s gruff exterior initially made you hesitant to approach him, but he surprised you with his patience and attentiveness. He noticed your preference for notes and gestures right away, his keen tactical mind quickly adapting to your style. “Communication’s about understanding,” he said once. “Doesn’t matter how you do it, as long as it works.”

- Despite his hardened demeanor, Cable showed surprising softness when it came to you. He’d take your notes seriously, his cybernetic hand carefully holding the paper as he read. “Got it,” he’d say with a small nod, making you feel heard and respected.

- One day, you scribbled a note that read, I don’t know how to ask for help. Cable’s steel-blue eyes softened as he read it, and he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to ask,” he said simply. “I’ll always have your back.” His words, though straightforward, carried a depth of sincerity that stayed with you.

- Cable’s actions spoke louder than words. He’d leave you supplies he thought you might need or subtly adjust his schedule to be around when he thought you might struggle. His protective nature made you feel safe, even without verbal reassurances.

- The moment your relationship shifted was quiet but profound. You handed him a note that read, I think I’m falling for you. Cable read it, his expression unreadable at first. Then, a rare smile crossed his face. “Guess I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” he said, pulling you into his arms. His kiss was firm yet gentle, a reflection of the man himself.

- Being with Cable was like having a steadfast anchor in a chaotic world. He didn’t need flowery words to show his care; his actions spoke volumes. “You’ve got your way of communicating,” he told you one day, his voice steady. “And I’ve got mine. Together, we make it work.”

Wade Wilson aka. Deadpool

- Wade was immediately fascinated by your unique communication style. “You’re like a mysterious, silent protagonist,” he quipped one day, leaning dramatically against a doorframe. “Do I get to be the comic relief in your story?” His lighthearted approach put you at ease, though his constant chatter sometimes overwhelmed you.

- He took your notes and gestures as a challenge, often exaggerating his responses to make you laugh. “Oh, I see what you mean!” he’d say, even when he clearly didn’t. His antics were equal parts endearing and infuriating, but his genuine effort to connect with you never wavered.

- One day, you passed Wade a note that read, Sometimes I feel like I’m too much. He stared at it for a moment, unusually quiet. Then he grinned and said, “Too much? Sweetheart, have you met me? You’re like the perfect yin to my yang!” His humor was disarming, but the sincerity in his eyes reassured you.

- Wade found creative ways to communicate with you, often using props, drawings, or even sock puppets to convey his thoughts. “See? Communication is an art form,” he said, holding up a poorly drawn cartoon of the two of you. His efforts were chaotic but heartfelt, showing you how much he cared.

- The shift in your relationship came during a quiet moment in his usually loud life. You handed him a note that read, I think I love you. Wade froze, uncharacteristically speechless. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he scooped you into his arms. “I knew it!” he shouted, spinning you around. His kiss was surprisingly tender, a rare glimpse of the man beneath the mask.

- Being with Wade was unpredictable but filled with joy. He made you feel understood in his own chaotic way, proving that love didn’t need to follow traditional rules. “You don’t need words,” he told you one day, his voice unusually soft. “I get you. And trust me, that’s saying something.”

[tommykinard217]

(a thanksgiving ficlet that got away from me lol. Happy thanksgiving to those who celebrate, I love you all! )

Holidays were never really all that special to Tommy. When he was a kid, holidays were tense affairs. Thanksgiving dinners made by his mom that his dad would nitpick at. The man didn't even sit at the table with him and his ma, his face turned towards the football game as he shouted that the turkey was too dry, the mashed potatoes too lumpy, the gravy too watery.

Tommy had never really thought there was anything wrong with the food, but his dad was never really happy about anything to begin with.

Tommy never really existed during the holidays. It was like he was a ghost. At first, when he was younger, he tried to decorate and cheer his parents up and help around the house. Anything to make them smile. But it didn't work. So eventually, when he was a teenager, he just stopped trying.

He either stayed in his room or he got out of the house, taking his bike to the river and just sitting on the river bank, looking across the water. By the time he got home, the food would be packed away as leftovers. There wasn't a plate set aside for him.

Then his ma passed and there was no one to make thanksgiving dinner.

Once again, the river was his friend. He contemplated getting a fishing license, so that he could actually do something other than stare at the current of the river as it crashed against the rocks and mini island formations.

By the time he got home, the house was dark, his dad passed out on the couch surrounded by empty beer cans. Tommy had felt the urge to clean up, maybe mitigate whatever possible anger his dad would build up in the morning. But he didn't really care. His dad would be angry regardless, and he'd still feel as alone as ever even with his dad screaming in his face and threatening him with punishments he was too old for at this point.

Eventually he enlisted. Anything to get away from his dad and the metaphorical ghost of his ma haunting the kitchen.

In the army, there was no river to bike alongside. No riverbank where he could sit down, and stare across the water. Just dirt and noise and shitty MRE's. Somehow it didn't feel all that different from the thanksgivings of his childhood.

Then, he was out of the army. He had a choice. Go back to his shitty town on a shitty river, haunted by his dad and his ma. Or go somewhere else. Somewhere different.

Different won out, for once. So he packed up what little shit he had and made his way to LA of all places. Signed up to a firefighting academy. He needed the structure the army gave him, and he'd actually get to help people this time.

Once he was out, he got assigned a firehouse. The 118. Gerrard was just like his father, minus the alcohol. Cruel, exacting, looking for a flaw in everything you did. Tommy knew how to handle Gerrard, and that was to just ride him out. Let him yell, let him get angry and threaten you. Don't react, don't talk back. Just let it happen until he tires himself out.

Thanksgiving with the 118 once again was the same as any other year. Shitty takeout instead of MRE's or leftovers, but other than that, it was all the same. Thankfully the job kept him busy.

Too many people thought they were immune to flame and oil and their own general stupidity, and the amount of turkey induced fires they had to put out was steadily climbing. Each year they seemed to break a new record.

Every year was the same. Tommy was alone or lonely or both, he scarfed down shitty food, and it was just another day to him.

And then Evan came around. Evan with his bright smile and warm demeanor. Evan with his endless facts and his strong hugs. Just...Evan.

And Tommy had been certain that maybe this thanksgiving was going to be different.

And maybe that was his mistake.

He was a coward, after all. All his life he had just run away. To the river, as a kid. The army, as an adult. The West Coast, after he was discharged. All he ever did was run.

And so, here he was. His first thanksgiving off, staring at the takeout he bought, trying to remind himself that this was normal. For him, at least. He was used to this.

Granted, the guilt was eating him up. He'd stared at his phone for what felt like hours, trying to figure out what to say. I'm sorry? I miss you? Take me back, I'm miserable without you? None of those were acceptable. He broke things off. He ran away. Ev-Buck deserved better.

But right as he was about to sit down, maybe watch a movie or two, his doorbell rang.

As he walked to the door, he wondered on who it could be. A neighbor? Someone asking for charity donations? A Mormon?

But it wasn't any of those.

It was Evan.

Hands shoved in his pocket, looking nervous but determined.

"Come on, you're missing out on dinner." Evan pointed to his jeep, waiting for them.

Tommy was, understandably, fucking baffled. "Wait, what?"

Evan sighed, rolling his eyes. "I'm mad at you." Fair. "But I also miss you and I don't want you to be alone on Thanksgiving. So you're coming with me, you're eating Bobby's turkey, and the five different pies I've baked." Evan baked? Since when did Evan bake? Five pies? Tommy was so confused.

Tommy was honestly speechless. Because, what? "I miss you too." Was the only thing he could really get himself to say. And it was true, at least. Tommy had felt Evan's absence like an actual hole in his heart. Heart pumping over time to accommodate the wound and failing.

"Good. Because I'm not letting you go. And I'm not letting you let me go. We're going to actually talk after this, got it?" Evan had grabbed onto Tommy's hand, pulling him towards the jeep as he spoke.

"Got it." Tommy wished he could say more than two syllables at a time, but how could he? What could he even say? I love you? I'm sorry please let me spend the rest of our lives groveling? Nothing would be adequate.

But as they got into the jeep, Tommy blinked and reality settled in. Evan was here. Evan was bringing him to Thanksgiving dinner. Evan. Evan. Evan.

"I'm sorry. For being a coward." He finally let out. "You didn't deserve that."

"No, I didn't. But I get it. I came on too strong, I went a little insane and overcorrected. You also went insane, and we both should have talked. But we'll do that later. After we have a perfectly normal Thanksgiving together. Howie is probably gonna punch you a little for not texting him back, by the way."

Yeah, that was all pretty fair, honestly. "I didn't think Howie really wanted to talk to me, after everything."

Evan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you tend to make decisions for othe people without actually considering what they want. We'll work on that though."

We. Evan kept saying we. And it felt good. It felt so good to be a we again.

"You're right. I've been an ass. And, I'm going to work on it. For you. Me. Us. Our friends. I mean it, Evan."

A warm, gentle smile. "Good. Now come on. Everyone's waiting for us."

Everyone meaning. Everyone. Bobby and Athena. Maddie and Howie and Jee. Karen and Hen and Denny and Mara. Everyone.

No one was angry, there were no tense silences. Just joy and forgiveness and thankfulness.

And as Evan held Tommy's hand as he lead them through Maddie and Howie's place, Tommy was starting to see how special the holidays really could be.

It wasn't perfect, and like Evan said, they had a lot to talk about afterwards. But as Bobby carved the turkey and placed some on his plate, as Howie grabbed the mashed potatoes and passed it his way with a joke and smile. As Maddie punched his shoulder (fairly hard, he had to give her that) but then hugged him the next second. As Hen gave him a searching look, like she was waiting to see if he was gonna make a run for it again, but then a satisfied nod when she saw the resolution on his face. Tommy realized this was what he had been missing out on, all those years ago.

And he wasn't going to let it slip past him again.

[zaine-m]

I like to think that Jayce and Viktor get a happy ending in the other universe too

Jayce feels awful that hextech took a life. Especially seeing powder (who is around the same age he was when him and his mom were saved by hextech) holding her dead sister's body

He says similar things as in the start of the trial but now fully meaning them and never mentions trying to create magic

Vander comes to Jayce's trial and stands up for him, saying he's just a stupid kid with a dream to help people who didn't know what he was doing

"Vi's with her mom now, let Jayce go home to his"

He does still sneak into his lab to attempt suicide but this time Viktor's "am I interrupting?" doesn't do anything, Jayce just turns back around and jumped, not being able to handle the guilt of accidentally taking a life while also realizing his life's work only caused harm

He survives the attempt and wakes up in a hospital bed, paralyzed from the waist down with his mother crying next to him

Viktor comes in a bit later while his mom is out making some food for him

His tone is completely too cold for the situation. Jayce is in complete despair and Viktor refuses to match the mood

He says most of the same stuff about how hextech can change people's lives but Jayce responds "yeah, well so far all it's done is a take the life of an innocent child"

"ehh, she was from the undercity. I grew up there, many children did not live to see adulthood"

"How does that make anything better?"

"Because this has the potential to change that. One explosion? There are toxic fumes and polluted waters slowly killing hundreds of children each year"

"Even if I wanted to I'm banned from the academy and ..." *waves at legs*

"pshh, you think trenchers are supposed to be at the academy and everything I did in my life I did while being disabled"

"Listen, I can't help you"

Viktor leaves Jayce's bracelet by his bed and heads towards the door. Jayce takes one look at it and throw it across the room in anger. "you probably shouldn't throw that", "GET OUT!"

A while later Vander comes to invite Jayce to Vi's memorial at the last drop

Jayce feels so guilty when he first comes into the last drop, everyone is staring at him

He sees Ekko, the kind little kid who had sold him such reasonably prices wares just days before his experiments accidentally killed his friend

Powder just starting going at him when she first sees him, her weak child-who-has-never-punched-before fists do very little damage especially because she's going so fast she doesn't fully pull her hands back

Jayce just lets her at it, crying and apologizing between the blows

Vander comes to pull Powder off of him, "it wasn't his fault, he didn't know how dangerous the materials were" she just looks back and screams at him before going back to her bedroom

Vander takes Jayce on a walk through the undercity to talk,

"Everyone in there knew what I did?"

"huh, no?"

"they were looking at me like I was a monster"

"yeah, that's cause you're dressed like a piltie"

"ohh, ha... I'm so sorry about what happened to Vi"

"It's a shame, but she's with her parents now"

*Jayce looks down, only feeling worse finding out the girl he killed was an orphan*

"You want to know how her parents died?" *they arrive at the bridge* "I thought I could help the undercity, create a better world by fighting for sovereignty. I led us across this bridge and lost so many people in the process, the undercity is still recovering"

"I'm so sorry"

"I was like you, I was young and ambitious and I wanted to help people. But you know what I learned. You don't need to make giant leaps to help the people around you"

On the way back Vander points out all the ways he's helped different people in the undercity, helping them make a business plan, caring for their kids when they were sick, helping them find a community at the last drop

He also points out all the things that could be helped like roofs with holes in them and cliffs that should have railings

"You don't need hextech to help the world, Jayce"

Jayce spends his time between his family's forge doing hammer work and around the undercity working as a handyman, building what he can to help people

Eventually he tracks down Viktor, hoping to find ways to make a more systemic change for things like the dirty water and polluted air

Viktor works on studies surveying the living conditions of those in the undercity and seeing what affects it has on expected lifespan and the likelihood of developing different diseases to present to the council

That along with the more pro-Zaun push that's been happening since Vi's death he gets quite a bit of work done

While he's doing this Jayce does what he can to start implementing changes by making water filters and distributing masks to those in the slump levels

After a few years Jayce petitions to be let back into the academy to help Viktor with his work on a formal level and with outstanding testimonials from many people in the undercity he's let back in

When their work making the undercity safer is done they move onto studying how to treat the various illnesses people in the undercity have suffered from living there

first starting with Viktor's various physical health issues and finding that a lot of his issues come from it never being studied how to use mobility aids and how improper use can put a strain on other parts of your body so he switched to a forearm crutch to help his back

I'm gonna say in this universe Viktor just has severe asthma which they're able to find medicines to treat so he still has issues breathing in a lot of the undercity, he just wears a mask most of the time and keeps his medication with him

Viktor and Jayce end up dating but it happens to slowly that it's hard to realize, they just spend all their time together working on their research and then they get an apartment together because they were both looking for roommates

Jayce stopped looking for people to date after the accident because he was going through a big life change and never got back in the game and Viktor always rejected anyone, saying he was too busy with his studies

Jayce is just physically affectionate in a way where hugging Viktor a lot turns into Viktor sitting on his lap whenever his leg is sore turns into Jayce playing with Viktor's hair when he's bored turns into them cuddling on the couch turns into them cuddling in bed turns into kisses on the forehead when one of them is sick turns into kisses when they're not sick

They're at the last drop one day and Viktor gets up off Jayce's lap to use with washroom and Vander asks Jayce, "so you think you'll propose soon" Jayce almost spits out his food, "what, what do you mean?"

"I mean you've been dating for like what 5 years now. You gotta pop the question sooner or later"

"umm... yeah" wait fuck are we dating, have we been dating for 5 years, what

In bed that night: "Viktor, I... I think I might like you... like romantically. I guess I never thought about it but I was talking to Vander and... and you've been the most important person in my life for the past like 6 years"

"Jayce, I thought we were dating? How are you only realizing this now"

"ohh"

"I called you my partner"

"I thought you meant like research partner"

"we kissed a lot"

"I thought those were like just for comfort... between friends"

*Viktor kisses him passionately but not the most passionately they've kissed before*

"Does that seem like it would be between friends?"

"heh, now that you mention it I guess not"

[carame1bunny]

‎ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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The beginning of something, yay! I really hope you like it and I’ll try to write as fast as I can. I want the chapters to be way longer, so I’m going to try working on it! Enjoy! xx Bunny

warning: none, maybe Alastor being a cocky bitch:)

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Alastor didn’t even know how he ended up here. Sitting in his car and driving to the loveliest jazz bar in New Orleans, The Red Magnolia, his favorite. Rosie, an old and dear friend of his, has recommended him to a manager, even though he didn't ask for it. He wasn’t interested in making any deals, but went to the “meeting” for her sake.

He knew he had a way with people, so he could have easily succeeded in business, however, his heart was always set on radio. Even when he was a little kid, putting on a show for his mother and pretending to be a radio host, his microphone consisted of a stick and a rock stuck to it with a few layers of cheap tape. Well, he was a real one now— the best one in all of Louisiana at that. Yet, it was sometimes good to make some investments and add to his wealth. After all, money opened doors charisma alone could not.

The humid air carried the familiar scent of lingering perfumes and magnolias, it was spring after all. There was no spring in New Orleans without magnolias. The distant hum of the city was mingling with the sound of his engine.

He snapped out of his thoughts when his eyes began recognizing the area around the bar. The streetlights cast long shadows, and the chatter of late-night revelers grew louder. It was busier than usual, which made him frown. He hoped that it wouldn’t get too popular, he didn’t need people recognizing him left and right whenever he came here. It was lovely to speak to his listeners and hear them praise his hard work, but not when he came here to have one or two glasses of rye and look for his next victim. That, he preferred to do in peace.

He parked his car and made his way in through the back room. The young woman cleaning in the back immediately perked up and went to stand in front of him.

“W-welcome, Mr.Leblanc!” She stood rigidly, clutching her cleaning cloth like a lifeline. He towered over the girl, who was obviously very flustered by it. He smiled smugly, pleased when he was able to make the ladies blush and stammer. And he loved when men were nervous around him, afraid of his words that could shatter their fragile little egos.

“Mr.Devereux is waiting for you in his office.” She fidgeted with the hem of her uniform. “Shall I lead you the way?” She looked up at him. She was pouting her lips, trying to make them look plushier, and tried to open her eyes up wider. It was pathetic.

“Thank you, buttercup.” He flashed a grin, and stepped aside to go up the stairs. The somewhat little bar had a decoration that was just perfectly his taste— dark red, black and gold. The warm, flickering glow of candlelight danced against the rich walls, giving the place an intimate, almost theatrical ambiance. The jazz band’s music filtered through the floor, it made him smile. Jazz had always brought him comfort, and it was his Mama’s favorite. He paused for a moment on the landing, letting the smooth rhythm of the music fill his senses. The black door of Mr.Devereux’s office taunted him, he reminded himself that he won’t let Rosie talk him into any more crap.

After a quick composing of himself, he knocked and stepped in slowly. Mr.Devereux was a short little man well into his forties; his head was balding and his body rounding. He kinda reminded Alastor of a garden gnome. He stood up fastly, nearly stumbling over his own feet, at least he wouldn’t have a big fall.

“Mr.LeBla—”

“Just Alastor.”

“Alastor, in that case… Just call me Rob, I’m very pleased that you were able to make it!” He shook his hand with the little man and smiled tightly when he felt the man’s sweaty palm. It made sense, he was awfully nervous, and could barely look Alastor in the eye. He recognized this kind of nervousness in men. Sweaty palms, red faces and the constant furrow of their brows, it was the matter of money. “Brandy?” Rob offered, his own glass already filled to the rim. He mumbled a ‘sure’, and sat down on the chair that sat before Rob’s desk. Once delivered, he sipped at his brandy and hummed at the burn in his throat.

Once he fell back in his seat, Rob spoke. “I was glad when Rosie told me your name, after I burdened her with my troubles.” He chuckled, his chubby fingers massaging his most likely aching temples. “Look, I’m going to cut to the chase, because it’s awfully urgent.” Great, Alastor thought, let’s get this over with.

“There’s this lady…Y/N Valmont. We have gotten her half a year ago. Her face is real pretty, voice like a siren. However, we cannot afford to keep her. Even though people adore her, the bars pay way less for her time.” He swallowed his brandy in one go and continued as soon as the liquor went down. “Mostly because she's a woman, and because she’s unmarried, they expect her to… how can I say this nicely? Do you understand?

Alastor was at a loss, he had no idea what this had to do with him and why “No, Mr.Devereux, I don’t know what you mean. Care to explain?” He had an idea what the proposition was, but he wanted to hear it from Rob’s mouth.

“They expect her to whore herself out, kiss the ass of the male audience. And obviously, she refuses to, stubborn little lady she is, but she can be real sweet when she wants to b—“ Al silenced him by putting a hand up. The other man immediately retorted back into his chair and straightened his back.

Now he spoke what he had on my mind the whole time since he stepped in the Red Magnolia. “What does this have to do with me? I am nothing, but a radio host.” Being humble was always a safe way to go in his opinion.

“Alastor, you have power, you are heard by all of New Orleans. And I have heard that take part in investments from time to time, she could be your greatest investment.” He was stumbling over his words, a new layer of sweat formed on his reddish face.

“If she says she doesn’t want to be courted around, then what would change if I “bought” her from you?” Alastor crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat. There was a somewhat awkward silence in the office, the only thing that was heard was the jazz sneaking up and through the floorboards. He could also nearly hear the gears turning in the other man’s head, he was really thinking hard about how to say his next few words.

“Well, people will eventually know that you’re her sponsor and gossip will come around. They will assume you’re courting her and that’s it. No one will expect her to whore herself around. All you have to do is sponsor her, pay for her numbers, her dresses and everything that helps her doll up. I would say… 80 percent, and we will pay the rest. We will manage her, and you just pay.”

He was confused, and just a tad angry. “Then what?” He raised an eyebrow. His lips were stuck in a grin.

“Then, once people accept that she does fool around with a man, especially New Orleans’ beloved radio host, they pay her and us properly, at least we hope so.”

They talked about details, and he thought… Fuck it. It wasn’t a lot of money, at least to him. Even if the plan failed, he would get the money back from the Red Magnolia, and it would bring him more attention.

“So, when can we expect you to decide?”

Alastor chuckled and offered his hand. “I’m in.” He never did anything like this, never acted so spontaneous, he always thought things like this through. But, a good deal is a good deal.

They shook hands, and while Mr.Devereux was working out the paperwork, Alastor decided to head down to the bar. The bar had three floors, the ground floor, where the stage was, around it the dancefloor along with tables with their seats, and of course the counter in the corner. The second and third floor were only balconies, the second had even more tables and sofas, it was more of a section where the guests could talk. The third was only used for the offices, no guests were allowed up there, there was barely any lighting even, only some oil lamps on the walls. The band was playing a soft tune, and people were dancing. His eyes got stuck on a couple. A girl with reddish hair and adorable freckles was resting her arms on the shoulders of, most-likely, her lover, a man with black curly hair. He recognized the lady, she sometimes played the piano right here in this very bar, her long and toned fingers telling the truth of her life’s passion. Even in the dim lighting, he could see the way they were looking into one another’s eyes, their sparkling gazes and soft grins told him everything he had to know. His eyes suddenly picked up a glint on the girl’s finger, a diamond ring. Now that he was looking at the young woman, he could see it. The very bottom of her abdomen was rounding up, her hips softer than usual and a light glow adorning her face.

In moments like this he wished he lived a normal life, a life where he could have fallen in love with a girl, marry her and eventually have a little one of his own. Maybe that way… he could have made his Ma prouder of him. However, he quickly snapped out of it. He didn’t care about all that, no woman could compete with the love he had for radio and the thrill of taking a human life. He wasn’t meant to settle down, or have a child, no.

He looked at everyone’s faces, but no one could see him, he couldn’t blame them, even he himself was struggling to see up there. However, as his eyes roamed around, they caught another pair. He felt his chest tighten for a second, his gaze caught another. Sleek updo and a pink dress. A young woman, who was sipping her cocktail and ignoring the seemingly cocky guy talking to her. She had the sweetest face he ever saw, shy smile and big doe eyes.

Suddenly, Mr.Devereux came up beside him, putting the papers in front of him. He was forced to rip his eyes away from her, so he could read through the contract. It took him quite some minutes to finish reading, he could feel her eyes still lingering on him. While he didn’t date, he enjoyed being around the ladies, they were either his dearest friends or his toys. Maybe this new little skylark could be useful to entertain him, until he gets bored, of course. Once finished, he saw how everything was written as they agreed on.

“So, are you satisfied?” Mr.Devereux asked, motioning to the contract. Alastor got his pen out of his breast pocket and just before making it official, he flashed his eyes again to the girl, who was just zoning out while wrapping her lips around a cigarette. Yes, a new toy is just what he needs. He spoke once he signed every paper.

“You’re damn right I am, Robert.”

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taglist: @jyoongim @lovingyeet @adamwarlockislife-blog @that-dumb-bitch @midorichoco @alastorswifeee @sugurubabe @captainfia @alastorssimp @iheartalastor @speedycoffeedelight @1o-o1 @kimmis-stuff @qu1cks1lversb1tch @chibistar45 @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @redfoxwritesstuff @fries11 @certifiedcrybabyyy @sirens-and-moonflowers @rapturenyx @visara-valentina

[frownyalfred]

Forgive me if this slightly incoherent- I'm sick rn but I had thoughts

The three probationary leagues are young, in a way many capes aren't at their ages (over 18 but none older then 22). The trio are new to being capes, their powers manifesting later then most, and even after their power came in, they took even longer to become capes. The three weren't friends before they joined the league, but as new kids, and the fact all three were always grouped together for training, they quickly became friends.

Being a member of the Justice League is everything they've always wanted, and there is nothing the three wouldn't do to keep their places.

Often training with Batman (they don't understand why a full human has so much power in the league, but they do understand why they hate him- Batman works them past where they thought they could go. He treats everything like life or death, and crushes the glamor of being a hero under fucking paperwork and regulations upon regulations.)

So when the trio learn, the hard way why the justice league has rules on proper item detainment, why, regardless of how normal or mundane the item seems, you tag and collect it, and submit a report on it, why panic.

As probationary recruits, they don't have the resources or access to try and fix this without telling one of the Founders. And the youngest of them, the 19 year old with powers of water manipulation, insists that Batman will kick them out for this, they have to find another way- well, the other two share a look and agree.

They argue about what to do and who to ask for help hiding their mistakes, as they stand in the rubble that was once half of a town of 40,000. After all, tornadoes are destructive, and magical, fire tornadoes? The damage is catastrophic. But in the end, they agree, Nightwing is the best person to ask. He's friendly with everyone, and he'll even swap moniter room shifts with people so he has watch with Batman, who is objectly thr worst to be trapped in small room with for 4 to 6 hours. Plus, he's sat with each of them at least once and promised making mistakes happens and you just have to stand up and keep moving.

So, they go to Nightwing, all three of them feeling a wave of relief when they see his smiling, cheerful face, and beg for help.

"Please, we've stopped the artifact, and it's been properly contained now. We just need you to sign a few things, so no one investigates the damages to the town. This is our dream, and we've learned from our mistake. Please, you always say we need to have each other's back. We just knew you would be able to help and understand."

But Nightwing's face freezes, at first, then hardens, in a way that scares the trio even though the smile never falters. His body, Shifts, in way that suddenly seems... threatening, and the trio nervously share glances, and slowly they start to understand where the real mistakes have been made.

Yes exactly this!!!!!!!!

[cupidsblonde]

so do i look like him?

after katsuki’s death, the only thing your parents can see in you is him

when you used to imagine giving a speech about your younger brother, you have imagined it everywhere but here.

maybe a wedding

at an award show  

anywhere but here.

“i remember when katsuki first got his quirk, we all knew he was destined for greatness… but he was ripped away from us to soon.” you say lip quivering.

“he will never be able to live out his dream. or live out the life that had so many great things ahead of him. ripped from the arms of his loved ones, from his greatness, from his determination.” voice breaking, tears falling down your face.

“tomura shigaraki, i promise that if i ever find you, you will be ripped from the hearts of the people motivated by you, just as you did my brother” you say staring straight into the broadcasting camera, which was showing your brothers funeral all across the world.

since he was a nation wide hero. but he never got to be the hero he wanted to be, rich, famous, doing what he loved. 

for he was famous. this just wasn’t how anyone imaged it.

 was this all he was going to be to the world? a dead kid, who had a dream of being a hero and died on his way there in a war he had no place fighting in? 

is that kid the only thing your parents will ever be able to see in you?

being the eldest was great, until katsuki was gone. 

incident one

 you where all sitting around the dinning table. katsuki’s spot next to your empty. nothing but his lingering smell of caramel, which was fading, and quickly. it was quite. you just wanted to eat, and go to sleep. 

you pick up your fork and go to put the food into your mouth, clamping your mouth around the fork and unbeknownst to you, the scratching food. 

you groan, grimace and catch your parents eyes. they’re both staring at you. like you did something wrong. you can see the tears welling in their eyes. your mom slams her fork down and gets up from the table 

“excuse me” she says in a hushed tone. you didn’t know what happened. you looked to your dad for an answer. 

“you just looked a lot like him right then” you dad almost whispers to you.

incident two

you missed katsuki a lot.

his grunts

his anger

his determination 

his want 

his excellency.

you and everyone in your house avoided his room like the plague. scared that if it was changed even a little bit, something would happen. 

but you just couldn’t take not even smelling his scent around the house anymore. you went into his room one day. 

16 years of coming into his room, annoying him, crying to him, watching movies with him. had come to end. you sat on the floor, sat in his bed, sat at his desk and you made your way to his closet. that’s where it smelt the most of him. aside from his bed, but even that was fading.

all you wanted to do was cry. there was no way he was coming back, you know that. right? 

you continue to go into his spaces. just hoping your going to find your younger brother there. watch him study maybe, even hope you would be able to hear him yell at you to “get the f out of my room”. 

but you would never get to have that’s again. 

this time it was your dad. 

you had said something that you picked up from katsuki and your dad froze where he stood. 

you could tell he had been cracking his shell he made when katsuki died. push everything down to hold the family together. so he needed to get away. he stopped what he was doing and went to he and your mothers room. 

“you just looked a lot like him, with that look on your face, saying that.” your mother quivered out to you. sobbing and choking at the end of her sentence.

incident three

you had been falling back into a place that katsuki an you both worked so hard to get you out of mentally. 

you where drinking again

back on drugs

it started slow. just how it always did. 

you had been clean for nearly 2 years. you obviously didn’t need your younger brother to keep you a normal ass person, who wasn’t drinking all the time, sleeping all the time, back on drugs.

bakugo katsuki, your younger brother, your best friend. was one of the only things that kept you on the earth. 

but now, it was your parents. not because you where happy all the time with them as you where with katsuki. 

but having to bury both of their children? you couldn’t do that to them. 

so you began getting sober again. the drugs stopped and the drinking stopped, you had been reminded that katsuki helped you out of that dark, dark place and if he saw you just fall right back into it as soon as he’s gone, he would be disappointed.

it was hard, because it wand ike he was gone on a trip. he was gone, for good.

this time, it was both of them. both of your parents. 

you grabbed any random hoodie one day, not even realizing it was your brothers. you came down the stairs and your parents where right in the view of the stairs, and stopped when you came down. 

you then realized. 

you wouldnt ever be your own person now. atleast not to your parents. 

you understood, their child was gone. and you reminded them of him. and that’s … hard.

not only for them but also for yourself.

this is the first time you started to catch on 

“do i look like him?” 

both of your parents nodded quickly, tears filling their eyes and they both walked away very quickly. 

of course you went to go change.

but that’s when you realized, 

his scent wasn’t on the hoodie anymore 

the more that you thought about it. his scent wasn’t anywhere around the house anymore, aside for his room, which was fading. 

incident four

you where going through an old photo album, you all missed katsuki in with all of your hearts. 

there where a bunch of pictures of katsuki but it started getting easier to look at them. easier to, accept.

but there was this one problem, this one picture. that had your mother sobbing, your dad with tears streaming down your face and you, your face plastered with an a thousand yard stare. your mouth fell open, you wanted to say something. 

anything, but you couldn’t. it felt like your vocal cords had been ripped out, your throat was burning. your eyes where being filled with tears. you closed the picture book slowly. 

you don’t remember much after that.

 all you feel right now is the pain in the balls of your feet from the heels your wearing, continusally having to pull your to short and to tight dress down and the feeling of your back side grinding up against a man that you meet at the bar merely a half hour ago.

“wanna get out of here ma?” the man who you didn’t even know who’s name.

next morning

you woke up next to this man, who you still didn’t know the name of. 

these type of nights continued on for weeks. 

you didn’t see your parents much, you where staying with your friends more and more and they are worried about you. they are always supportive, they understand what your going through. but they are worried.

and they had every reason to. especially tonight. 

when you didn’t come home, after you sobbed in mina’s arms are the first time. saying you wished it was you who was gone and not your brother. she was first your brothers friend, but she ended up being yours as well. 

you missed him, so so much. and you didn’t know how to handle it.

you had taken care of him for his whole life. being the eldest was hard. it was always hard. it was so much harder when the one thing keeping you going was now gone. 

you could see it in your parents eyes. the only thing in their eyes was sadness. so the only you could ask yourself now was 

“do i look like him?”

[iloveelvisss]

I would love to see more yandere elvis, maybe him blowing up at the mafia for getting to "close" even if it's not really anything besides politeness. (All the requests are yandere)

Or, (This is seasonal) elvis and reader going over a christmas list for reader.

Maybe even elvis tells the reader he wants kids(Vegas era)

Elvis tells the reader what to wear for a party.

Reader cleaning graceland and elvis gets breeding urges (smut)

Reader getting concerned about elvis in the late years of the 70s, and helps him get off the drugs, why? Because he does what she wants (yandere behavior)

Anyway, some ideas for possible one shots. You can ignore this ask if you want, but I wanted to give you a few ideas :)

Okayyyy so eventually I’m gonna try and do all of these… maybe? But I really liked the one about him getting upset at the Memphis Mafia for ‘looking’ at his girl, so I’m gonna go with that one for this. Thank you soooo much, and please feel free to request more😙😙!! Also, thank you, because these are such good ideas!

Lookin’ (Elvis oneshot)

Correlates to Lovestruck and goes along with that storyline (which will hopefully be getting a second part sometime soon).

Pairing: yandere!Elvis x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sometime after everything is settled and Elvis has married Y/N, he feels as though a member of the Memphis Mafia is getting too close to his ‘angel’. And he won’t stand for that.

Warnings/Triggers: yandere fic, so expect delusional, obsessive, compulsive, manipulative, crazed, and possessive behavior. Elvis gets very angry and possessive. References to drug use. References to forced marriage, breeding, and the colonel.

In hindsight you should’ve known better. It had only been a month since you had to marry Elvis, and he was still very much in the honeymoon mindset. He wanted you pregnant— another way to make his claim on you a known thing to anyone else.

You somehow got to walk to the bar without him going with you. Most likely because he had a clear view of you from where he stood talking to Sammy Davis Jr., who had come to watch his show. You poured yourself a water— just to be safe, and then you went on your way back to him at a leisurely pace. You stopped to admire the painting he had hanging on the suite’s wall. It was very pretty. A large landscape of gorgeous purple flowers that were blowing freely in the wind. Such a cruel difference to your current life.

That’s when it happened. Sonny came up beside you, holding a beer. “Nice, ain’t it? Me and Red bought it for ‘im before you came along.”

You smiled politely, making sure to not make eye contact. You nod and take a drink of your water, which was now halfway empty. “S’ very pretty. Bet it makes him miss simple life sometimes,” you sigh, knowing that you’re really referencing yourself. You missed simple life. Nowadays you wished you would’ve said no to the job offer and stayed in California with the trust fund kids.

Sonny noticed your drink and offered to refill it, to which you politely declined. But it was too late. His hand touched yours and Elvis saw.

You made eye contact with him from across the room and you saw his jaw clench. His eyes darkened only slightly, and nobody other than you saw it. But the whole room stilled and watched with bated breath as he dropped his conversation with Sammy and stormed over to you. The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea, and he looked as if he was a predator stalking his prey with his eyes narrowed and his nose flared. His shoulders held back to make them come off as more broad. He was downright angry— scary angry.

You knew you were in trouble, and you held your breath as he made it to you. He grabbed your arm and dragged you into the bedroom portion of the suite. He locked you in it, and you could only imagine the shit he was giving Sonny.

“That’s my wife! My goddamn wife! Ya stay away from ‘er, or I’ll break yer goddamn neck!”

And then the door reopens and he comes storming in, his anger pouring off of him in waves. You take a large step back and then you fall backwards onto the small chair by the window. He leans down into your face, grabbing your jaw. “Ya like humiliatin’ me, angel? Huh? Ya like makin’ it look like my own wife don’t want me at my party?”

You fight back the tears that are trying desperately to fall. You shake your head as best as you can with his grip. “Please… Elvis, I didn’t mean anything by it. I- I was just talking to him.”

He stares into your eyes with a heated gaze for what feels like hours, and then he seems to remember himself, and he takes a deep breath. He loosens his grip, his eyes softening just a bit. “I don’t like it when those… those pigs talk to ya, Y/N,” his hand moves to caress your cheek and clear your tears that managed to fall, “Jus’ promise me you’ll stay by my side, yeah? Don’t let those suckers talk to ya?”

You quickly nod, just wanting him to stay happy. You shakily reach up and put your hand over his, holding it to your face. “Y- yeah, baby, I’ll only talk to you. Promise.” You say as firmly as you can manage in your slightly shaken state. He then nods, seeming convinced and content enough.

Elvis reaches down and pulls you up by the arm. He pulls you into an embrace, his fingers gently trailing through your hair. He kisses the top of your head, whispering, “Mhm, angel, s’ jus’ you and me, okay? Forever. Yer mine.”

Okay, so this is ACTUALLY shit. I’m so sorry, please forgive me😭. But I wanted to get at least one of your requests out for you. Enjoy…?

Tags: @queenstarlight (lmk if you wanna be added)

[furiousgoldfish]

I want to talk about a situation that happened when I was a kid, and even though this particular instance did not traumatize me (that I know of), it still deals with traumatic themes, such as physical abuse, attempted murder and severe neglect, so be careful if you're reading on! I'll explain at the end why I'm talking about it, and also psychoanalyze what I think was going on.

When I was about 6-9 years old, I had a strong conviction that my father was going to kill me. He would lock me into the basement and hurt me, and even though the injuries weren't lethal, I could feel the intent, he was out of control, not watching where he was hitting, if he was going to break my bones or not, it was erratic, terrifying. I love how I prefaced this with 'oh this didn't traumatize me' and then I started with that, but it's just the context to the actual story. That first part did probably traumatize me, I remember little of it.

Since I felt that my life was in peril, I decided, logically, that I needed to kill him before he kills me. It was justified I would defend my life with all I had. So I sneaked into the basement room, and searched for something that I could use for a weapon, next time he shuts me in there. I found one, memorized where it was, and then I was ready.

It came soon after, the event of me being alone with him in the basement, him out of control, attacking me, and again, I felt like I was about to be killed. So I grabbed a metal pole hidden next to the fireplace, used my full strength and hit him on the head with it. He fell down, and stopped moving.

I panicked then. He looked dead. I let myself out of the basement (I knew where the key was) and yelled for mother, telling her that I killed him, but I had to, because he was going to kill me. When we got back to where he was lying down, blood was trickling out of his nose. But my mother wasn't panicking like I was, she could probably see him breathing. Then he sat up.

I was even more scared then, because if he wasn't dead, then he knew I just tried to kill him, and would come after me even worse. But he didn't. He didn't even look at me. He wiped his nose, seeming completely calm, rage from before completely gone, talking only to the other family members, who seemed concerned about him.

I was told, that it's good for me that I didn't kill him, because had I done that, I would have been imprisoned for murder for the rest of my life. And other than that, everyone ignored me. Nobody talked to me, or had anything to say about the entire event. Father ignored me as well. I was not punished. Nobody was even mad at me. Nothing else was done.

The 'you'll go to prison forever if you kill him' line worked on me, because I didn't know the law, I didn't know that we don't incarcerate little kids; I was underage. They lied to me. So next time when he got me close to that feeling of 'I'm about to be murdered', I had no way to defend myself. If I killed him I would go to prison. I had no choice but to just let him do whatever and not retalliate in any significant way. Sad and painful.

Thinking back later on this event, it was bewildering to me that I was not punished whatsoever for a murder attempt, despite getting punished for bullshit like 'talking back' or 'having an unpleasant face expression'. This was common; I could be severely punished for leaving a door open, but when I did something big, like hurt a sibling, or threaten someone, or hit my father with a metal pole in the head, there was no consequences whatsoever, nobody would have even talked to me about it. I wondered if this was just because they loved that shit, they loved watching me grow into the same violent, brutal and sadistic person they all were, because then they could go 'you're no different than us', and be right. But, unlike them, once I knew something I did hurt another person, I wouldn't do it again; I did horrible things just because I was a kid, and all adults around me were horrible, and I mimicked them, as kids do. They wouldn't punish me for mimicking their awful behaviour because they approved of that, and they didn't care if my siblings were hurt because they loved hurting children anyway.

This also reinforces the theory that punishment is just an excuse to hurt a child, because these were the legitimate reasons to invoke consequences, but they never did, punishments were dished out when they felt like torturing someone and at that point, any face expression could have been an excuse enough. They didn't care about raising a kid or teaching them right and wrong, it was all just self-serving acts of sadistic pleasure.

But to let a murder attempt fly? I thought about it more today, and realized that maybe, they were shocked I did that. Maybe it was an unpleasant surprise to find out, that under severe stress, I would make an attempt at their lives. Maybe finding out that I just tried to kill one of them, made them not want to immediately try and do more violence to me. Maybe they were concerned that I injured their family member, and were more preoccupied with that. Maybe the logistics of 'this child just attempted to kill someone' made them slightly less secure in their 'beating children is normal and good' culture, maybe it signaled to them that beating children could be, in fact, a little dangerous. Of course this didn't make them not wanna do it, they just needed to persuade the child to take it and not retalliate, thus 'you'll go to prison if you do that', and afterwards they felt comfortable again, sure that justice is on their side. To make things more sinister, beating children was not even illegal in my country during that time, so what they were doing to me wasn't punishable by law. But if I retalliated, I was a criminal, according to them.

Hitting children did become illegal by the time I was 9, but conveniently nobody bothered informing  me, and I would live many more years in belief that violence towards me was normal, necessary and completely legal, hell I believed that even killing me was legal, because everyone was acting like it very much was and were threatening it left and right.

So the reason I'm thinking about this event, is that I just got some great news. My father has colon cancer. He's currently hospitalized about it. I don't know what stage it is, but the mortality rate for it is high. He might die. He might die.

I am overjoyed. I am hopeful, I am thrilled, I could not be more happy about this. What I started with that pole in the basement, might get finished. If he dies I am free. If he dies, my version of what happened is the only one to exist. I would be safe.

I think my reaction is interesting. Because I know other victims of abuse feel some sort of grief, some sort of pain and guilt for their sick or dying abusers, especially when they're parents, because of the parental bond, and trauma bonding, and victims generally having a lot of empathy and humanity towards abusers. Not me! Apparently my father managed to never even develop the basic parent-child bond with me, and I was ready to kill him by the time I was 6. What kind of shitbag human do you have to be so that your small child tries to kill you with a metal pole and when they hear you're dying, it's the best news of their life? That's such inhumane stuff that all my basic child instincts of attaching to my caretakers got overwritten by the necessity of protecting my life. You did it so badly you messed with human DNA there! Biological instincts voted against your parenthood! Self defense murder was invoked against you. You are ruled out as a bad parent and a life threat by my tiny child instincts.