#dark hank is my FRIEND

[jdmara]

i think what really interests me about noho hank as a character is that he was always a guy who undermined his mob associates — for comedy!! he undermines goran in season one, and then cristobal in season two, just seemingly on an emotional whim, because it would get him what he wanted. and it was funny! it was a part of his erratic comedic charm! he’s always had this dark ambitious seed in him that’s been given time to sprout and bloom. and now his genre has shifted and he’s not a comic relief character and it’s not funny anymore.

[skrunksthatwunk]

managed to show three of my good friends one of my favorite movies and they really liked it. anyway im infallible in both my media taste and my rugged good looks so jot that down. and go watch drop dead gorgeous it's very good 🫶

[kaznejis]

We're hanging on by a heartbeat- Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

“You’re bringing Hank, right?”  She gritted her teeth, a blush tinging her cheeks as she avoided eye contact, “Yes… not in that way though.”  “I need to borrow him.” “What-” She looked confused at first, but then something clicked; mirth creasing at her eyes and twisting her lips as she cocked her head at you, “Y/N! You want to make Erik jealous.” 

A/N: Thanks for all of the support on my fics!!! every comment, like, reblog and read is GREATLY appreciated. So, enjoy this fun little oneshot I found in my drafts. :)

Word Count: 5,250 / Read it on AO3!

“He’s gonna be there, Y/N,” Raven sighed, swirling her champagne glass as she pursed her lips at you, “Charles practically demanded that he be there despite his refusals, I think he promised him that he’d get you to speak to him.” She accompanied the last words with exaggerated air quotes. 

“Mhm,” You grumbled, fiddling with your outfit in the mirror, “And that means, you are not allowed to leave me unattended. At any point.” 

“Y/N..” 

“Nope,” Turning towards her, splayed out on a chaise in her human form; a gorgeous dress accentuating her figure and her blonde hair flowing down her back in waves; you simply shook your head, face stern as you spoke. “I’m not going down that path again, I’m done with his idiocy.” 

“But… what does that have to do with being left unattended?” A smirk curled at the corners of her lipstick stained lips. You glared right back at her. 

“Because, I can’t-” You exhaled heavily through your nose, clearing the nerves from your chest at the mere thought of speaking to him, “If I speak to him, I will just embarrass myself- he, obviously, does not feel the same way as I feel for him.” 

Raven just sighed, visibly sick of you and Erik’s antics. Behind the guise of being best friends; you and Erik had been playing an erratic, immoral game of cat and mouse, each interaction felt like a step closer to admitting your feelings for him, but then, a subsequent step back at the very same time. He was complicated, to say the least, plagued by the traumas of his past and present. Plagued by the responsibility that he wielded upon his shoulders as a powerful mutant, the expectation of moral compassion; and, the sordid reality of his beliefs. 

You supported him, wholeheartedly, every step of the way. Your own chaotic mutant gene infecting your ability to appear as a normal human being; the green at your irises and the vines that intertwine upon your fingertips only causing fear, despite your god-given purpose being to allow growth. Maybe that’s why the two of you had gotten along so well; both of your powers allow you each to manipulate the foundations of the Earth itself- the ability to shift infrastructure and take lives at the merest of thoughts, at the slightest of movements. the hypothetical extent of what you could do rendered you outcasts, even if you had no desire to inflict pain upon others, they awaited with bated breaths until you would do so. 

Whilst Erik had initially viewed his residence within the school as a prison, you had seen it as a safe haven. The lush meadows and ancient trees that adorned the acres of land called to you, allowing for days spent barefoot amongst the reeds, with only birdsong to accompany you. Erik had paid you little mind at first- having only allowed you fleeting glances at dinner, a nod of the head if he agreed with a point, a slither of a smirk when you amused him. But, soon, he let you in; allowed you into the fortress of his conscience, allowed you to peel back the layers of his anger, and understood his desires for vengeance. You had balanced him out, balanced out the choke of his dark turtlenecks with the flow of your hair; balanced out the harshness of his metal with the brush of petal stems upon your fingertips. 

As your friendship had developed naturally, your feelings had followed. Abrasive, corrosive feelings. Soon enough, Erik plagued your every waking thought; his essence identifiable within the flow of the river, within the dust upon the floorboards, within the quiet of your room upon nightfall. 

He was everywhere, and you couldn’t escape. 

You would find him at breakfast in the morning, laughing obnoxiously at Charles; his teeth glinting in the morning light. You would find him in the classrooms, teaching the children their mandatory mutant history lessons; a transfixing performance of great intelligence, his hands enunciating each and every point. You loved watching him teach, perching upon a desk at the back of his room as he interacted with the children, engaging with their conversations whilst simultaneously wielding the ability to hold the students captivated when delivering a lecture. 

But, most importantly, your favourite place to find him was beside you. He would join you at the lakeside most nights, smiling to himself as you conjured flower after flower, allowing them to flow in the wind, the two of you watching as they found a home upon the tranquil waters. It was there, in the dark and the quiet of nightfall, that you had allowed your feelings to bubble at the surface, allowed your inhibitions to loosen as you had turned to him, studied the sharp features of his side profile; he had turned to you too, an eyebrow raised as he blinked, confused. 

“I was wondering..” You began, fiddling with the petals of a flower within your hands, watching as his loose, plaid shirt fluttered in the wind beside you; a change in his wardrobe that you had inflicted, “Charles is hosting a formal dinner next weekend.” 

Erik huffed, smiling at you; though his lip curled confusedly, “I know, I am the co-head of the school; I signed off on the plan.” 

Idiot, you chastised yourself, of course he knew that. Erik had turned towards you entirely now, his head tilted in intrigue as he stared at you, “Oh- yeah, well I was wondering, if you wanted to-”

“I’m not even sure why Charles would want to host such a thing, I mean, just an opportunity for the kids to drink too much and make a mess of the house.” 

“Yeah, well-” 

“And then one of Charles’ assistants asked me to be her date for it and I-” 

You felt it, in that moment, as your heart splintered within your chest; its foundations shattering and leaving you only able to gape in its wake. Coldness entrapped your body as the remaining petals of the flower within your hand shrivelled and wilted; the once luminescent petals forming a pathetic grey upon your palm. You simply nodded, zoning out and pulling yourself away from Erik’s words as he spoke, unable to hear him any further. You needed to distance yourself, distance yourself from him, from your feelings for him. It would be for the better; allow him to pursue whats-her-face without your claws of envy sinking into his shoulder blades, dragging him away from the semblance of happiness that he deserved. 

“I-I’m sorry Erik,” You stuttered, cutting him off suddenly as his speech screeched to a halt, his eyes widening and form freezing as you halted his words, “I need to go.” You wasted no time in bolting upwards, marching towards the distant lights of the house, not sparing him a single glance backwards. 

“Wait, Y/N-” He called, his voice catching in the breeze as he stumbled into pace behind you, “I’m sorry, did I upset you or-” 

“No, Erik, it’s fine.” You turned them, your hair fluttering before your eyes in the breeze as you watched him as he came to a halt, his face stricken, mouth agape as he stared at you, “You should go with Charles assistant, I bet she’s lovely..” You turned again immediately, sighing in relief as the house grew closer.

“No Y/N, I was actually going to ask if-” 

“Erik.” You snapped, turning once again, for the final time. The levity of your voice brought him to an instant pause, shock prevalent upon his features. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, you can go with whoever you want to. You don’t owe me anything.” 

“Oh.” Erik was still, his voice low as he watched you, his brows low and his mouth downturned; he seemed, almost, disappointed. Though, his emotional disparity was not your responsibility anymore, “Well, okay, I will then.”

You nodded, a finality; a shallow smile painted itself upon your features, “Good. I look forward to meeting her.” You didn’t wait to see his reaction, making the final journey to the house before swinging open the door and rushing to your room- where you could comfortably wallow in the drawls of your own heartbreak. 

That had been over a week ago; your initial excitement for the formal had dwindled entirely leaving you staring at yourself bleakly as you fiddled with an earring, Raven had continued to watch you; eyebrows raised and mouth curling with mirth. 

“This is ridiculous, Y/N.”

“Raven! He said himself-”

“No, but,” She paused, collecting herself for a moment before leaning towards you, hands clasped upon her lap, “You haven’t seen him.” 

“Of course, I have-” 

“Okay, When was the last time you saw him?” 

You laughed, eyes tight as you refused to make eye contact with her, “I saw him at breakfast this morning.”

“Sure, when was the last time you spoke to him?” 

Pausing, you cleared your throat, she had caught you there. Your own immaturity dawned upon you as you spoke your confession, embarrassment creating a heave in your chest.  “At the lake, last week.” 

“That’s what I thought- I mean, that man is a brooding asshole on the usual day, but since he supposedly professed his feelings for someone else to you? He’s been miserable, wandering the halls like a kicked puppy; if he’s even capable of resembling that.” 

Shaking your head, you huffed, turning to take a hasty swig from your own glass of preparatory champagne, “Maybe she rejected him after all.” 

“Sure, Y/N-” 

Suddenly, as the brevity of the reality which was Erik bringing another woman to the formal, a wicked realisation dawned upon you. “I need a favour.” You blurted, turning to her abruptly. 

“Okay..’

“You’re bringing Hank, right?” 

She gritted her teeth, a blush tinging her cheeks as she avoided eye contact, “Yes… not in that way though.” 

“I need to borrow him.”

“What-” She looked confused at first, but then something clicked; mirth creasing at her eyes and twisting her lips as she cocked her head at you, “Y/N! You want to make Erik jealous.” 

You shrugged, smirking at her; though the sweat at the back of your neck and legs couldn’t be denied, “I just- want to cover my own back, he can’t think that I’m moping and sad over him and another woman-” 

“But, you are.” 

Only sparing Raven a glare as she chortled, you continued, “I just want to let him see that I have my own date, and that… it could’ve been him. To everyone else, we’ll just be going as friends, but- Erik doesn’t need to know that.” 

Before the danger of your plan could pull your mind to a halt, before it could allow your conscience to screech at its own breaks- Raven was up, crossing the span of the dressing room and pulling the door open; telling a nearby student to find and fetch Hank. The young boy nodded obediently, breaking into a sprint down the hallway. Within minutes, Hank appeared in tow; flushed and breathing heavily as he burst into the corridor, half-dressed in his suit as his tie hung loose around his neck. 

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Hank panted, a hand planted upon the door frame as he surveyed the room; confusion followed within his features as he surveyed the two of you safe and seated comfortably. Only then, did fear truly grace his features; the dread evident within the tightening of his fingers and grit of his teeth, “What’s…going on?” 

“Sorry, Hank, but you will now be attending the dinner with Y/N.” 

“What?” He spat, his tall frame stalking into the room as he ensured the door was securely closed before truly entering the room, “No offence, Y/N, but I don’t understand- do you want me dead?” 

“What?” You gasped in turn, rubbing a hand against your forehead as you shook your head; Raven had nodded, laughing at his fear as she silently agreed, “Why would you die?” 

The ability to do so being somehow possible, Hank’s voice sunk to a hiss, bowing towards the two of you as sweat formed visibly upon his brow, “Have you seen Erik recently? He would kill me.” 

“Exactly,” Jeering, Raven opened the decanter upon the small table between you, pouring Hank a brimming glass of champagne before refilling her own, he took the drink readily once she offered it to him, taking a gusty swallow as his skin steadily grew paler, or even, bluer. “We need to show him what he’s missing out on-” 

“No, no.” Shaking his head hastily, Hank held his hands up before him, slowly backing towards the closed-door; a supposed attempt to make a fast escape, “I am not being a pawn in your fucked up-” 

“Hank.” Raven whined, cocking her head to the side and moving to expose the skin of her leg; pouting at him endearingly- you could only fake heave at her antics. “Please, for me? Once they’ve sorted their mess out-” 

“Hey-!” 

“We can have a dance together.”

Hank froze, the frost that had covered his cheeks instantly warming with the rush of blood as he blushed, his face taking the features of a dazed fawn as he practically melted beneath Raven’s gaze. He soon recovered though, turning towards you and sighing, scratching at the base of his head, “Fine, I will enter with you and we can have a dance, that is it-” 

“Thank you, thank you.” You interrupted him with a rush of skirts and arms flinging around his neck, peppering kisses to his cheek as you squeezed him, “You are my saviour” 

“Okay, okay-” He laughed, holding you at arms length as to protect the ironed linens of his shirt, a genuine smile lining his cheeks, “I need to finish getting ready, but I’ll meet you outside the entrance at quarter past seven.” 

“Quarter past? Hank it starts at seven.” You pursed your lips in confusion as he only grinned at you, a twinkle shining in his eye. 

“Exactly.” He grinned as Raven gasped, breaking into applause beside you, bravoing Hank humorously as you pulled away from him, to which Hank bowed sarcastically, hand before his stomach like a true guardsman. “We need to ensure that he sees Y/N- so, we enter late; put on a little show.” He wiggled his hips as he spoke, grinning at you fake-enticingly; to which you could only fake-vomit, sticking a finger in your mouth and gagging exaggeratedly as Raven laughed beside you. 

Hank departed then, a wave of a hand to you and a cheesy smile at Raven; that is when the plan jumped into action. Raven surged from her lounged position instantly, moving to check you over; your outfit, your hair, the words you would procure upon entering the formal. With a kiss on the cheek and a wink, she left at exactly 6:55; the door slamming behind the trails of her gorgeous dress. 

Thus, leaving you with a harrowing twenty minutes to stew on your decisions. 

Would Erik even care? Or, would he be too occupied with his supposed date? Gazing at the beauty of her dress and the delicacy of her skin instead of your own, honoured that he could serve as her date instead of wishing he could be yours. You forced yourself to break eye contact with your own reflection; disgusted at the pathetic twist of your features as nerves flooded your guts. Taking a deep breath, you shook your head; if anything, Erik would come to the realisation that you didn’t have feelings for him anymore and this sordid affair would end- you would go back to being best friends, you would swallow the bitter taste of rejection and smile through the burning fires of jealousy as he inevitably grew closer with his date for the night. Maybe the two of you would replace each other entirely, after all. 

At exactly 7:10, you left the room; bridled with nerves as you could do nothing but stare at the same features of the room you had been preparing yourself in for hours. Breath in, breath out- the sound of your heels clicking against the empty hallway resounded upon the halls as the inhabitants of the house were located within the main hall- the sound of conversation and light acoustical music a distant mirage. 

As you walked, you surveyed the walls of the buildings you called home- the murals upon the walls and the gorgeous art-pieces that the residents had collected throughout the years lining the walls. In the rotten depths of your mind, you wondered if this would be it- if you would have to leave, unable to sleep only doors down from Erik and the woman he would soon call his lover. The thought of it made you nauseous, made your knees beg to buckle from the strain of exasperated grief. Grief of what could have been if you had just stayed quiet, content; if you could have just been comfortable within the throes of friendship. 

At the end of it all, you missed him. You missed everything about him- his inherent goods and bads. His anger and his joy; his technicolour darks and lights. You missed the sharp lines of his face, the way his hair curled without the harnessing of a pomade, the prickles of the hairs upon his forearms and the curve of amusement within his lips. 

It took everything within you to not detour to the comforts of your bed, to crawl under the covers and hide for the foreseeable- wait for the inevitable to blow over, for Erik to enter your room and laugh at your sad state, just as a friend would; with no romantic-baggage whatsoever. 

However, before your jailbreak attempt could successfully be enacted; Hank emerged from the adjoining hallway, hands in his pocket and a meagre smile upon his face, “Thought I’d meet you here before you decided to run away.” 

Nodding, you sighed; managing a grateful smile his way as he removed his hands from his pockets and offered his arm to you, to which you took it and began to walk towards the hall’s entrance, “I was just working up the courage to do that.” 

Hank laughed, the motion jostling you slightly as you stopped in front of the entrance, the door was closed; the event readily in motion behind it, “We can back out if you want, you can go in now alone and I’ll come down in a few minutes?”

Shaking your head, you tightened your grip upon his elbow; smiling tightly, your voice cracked slightly as you began to speak, the thought of facing Erik and his date alone the most terrifying imagery in that moment, “I can’t go in there alone.” 

Hank turned to you then, concerned evident within the downturn of his mouth, his hands moved to your shoulders; the weight of them comforting as he sighed, “If anything happens I- we will be there, okay?” 

Nodding, you smiled almost-tearfully up at your friend, your lips curling with emotion as he jostled you; attempting to squeeze some semblance of humour from your state. He beckoned you forward then, one hand upon the door handle and the other curling to rest upon the curve of your waste; that is how you greeted the entire room.  

Due to the old-age of the building, the door creaked almost obnoxiously, the sound ostentatious despite the constant hum of the room. Immediately, you made eye contact with Raven; snorting into her glass as she failed to hide her amusement. Then Charles, his hands hanging in mid-air as if he was performing a speech to the group before him; though his face changed during the moment of eye contact, his eyebrows instantly raising and his lips curling into a smile as he looked into your mind, then to the hand upon your waist and finally to a point across the room. 

You followed his gaze, and you could swear your heart skipped a beat as it landed. 

There, stood Erik; the object of all of your desires, and your afflictions. His demeanour differed greatly from the others in the room, his face was blank; impassive as he met your eye; his hair was neatly slicked back and he adorned a clean, striking black suit. Charming. However, his body language told a different story- the grip at which he held his glass was ironclad, his lips were tight and cheeks haggard; an exact juxtaposition to the sharp cut lines of his suit. 

But, as you searched the space beside, behind and above him; the only thing that you could notice was that he was completely alone. 

Stood at the corner of the room, in his gorgeous suit with his exhaust-tinged eyes; he was alone. Not a date, of any shape or size or form, in sight. 

Your mind only allowed a halting, record-scratch oh fuck before you were herded towards the dancefloor- Charles welcoming the ‘happy couple’ to the crowd, sheer amusement threatening to crumple his confident form as he practically tittered. Hank only rolled his eyes, grinning at you amusedly as he tugged you into the entourage that was beginning to form. You couldn’t bring yourself to smile back. Your breath was quickening, panic flooding your chest as you realised that maybe, possibly you had read this whole situation entirely wrong. As you were whisked upon the dancefloor, a drink shoved into your palm and the waltz of fast-paced conversation already hastily beginning- you used every last essence of your will to build a somewhat passable facade, to not crumple in front of the crowd, to not run towards Erik and beg for his forgiveness, for his attention. 

But, oh, you had thought far too soon. Because, after all, you had garnered his attention the moment your heels resounded throughout the shocked quiet of the room. 

As you surveyed the crowd, Hank’s arm an all-encompassing weight upon your waist- you failed to stop your eyes from passing Erik’s form. He remained in that very same spot, as if he belonged nowhere else, as if he was sculpted upon the very walls of the building. His eyes were fixed upon your form; no matter the step, position or pose you took- his eyes never faltered from you, never wandered; even when Charles came to stand beside him, amusement towards his best friend tinted the rise in his cheeks. The two of them began to converse, the topic being of considerable tension; seeing as though Charles continued to look ever-amused, whilst Erik’s eyes finally dropped from yours- his face visibly swelling in anger as he glared at his shoes. 

“-Y/N? Sorry, Y/N?” 

Shocked, you blinked, turning back towards the conversation before you; two older women stared expectantly at you, you dug your mind for any recollection as to who exactly they were- maybe some form of charitable donors? After a series of agonising seconds, to which it felt like the entire room had gone silent; each participant waiting to see what was plaguing your mind, you spoke- smile cringing as you tilted your gaze towards the air just beside the woman, “Sorry, what was-?” 

“We were asking how long you and Professor. McCoy have been together?” Obnoxiously red-lipped woman-potential-rich-donor spoke, her lips stretching grotesquely as she smiled. 

“Oh, well-” 

“We’ve been dating casually for a few months.” 

“What-” 

“Oh, that is wonderful!” The woman spoke, clapping her satin-gloved hands together and bouncing on her heels. 

“Yeah..” Smiling airily, you ensured that oxygen was correctly being executed from your lungs; that you were definitely awake, alive and breathing. 

“It’s been a whirlwind,” Hank smiled, jostling you with the hand gripping your hip, “Between me and you, things are really starting to heat up-” 

Through the excited gasps of the women you realised with abject horror that Charles and Erik were edging towards your circle; Charles leading Erik with a clutch upon his elbow, to which Erik seemed to be fighting unapologetically. 

As if firing the perfect shot, at the perfect time and place, the red-lipped woman squealed at an obscene volume just as Erik entered perfect earshot, “Oh, just imagine, Y/N McCoy. It’s perfect-”

The sound of a glass shattering splintered throughout the room, halting the conversation and what felt like the very air you were breathing. Blood instantly began pouring from Erik’s hand as the surrounding partygoers jumped back in fear, the entire room watching with wide, halted eyes as he shuck the glass from his grip.

“Erik-” Trembling, you swallowed; feeling your heart hammer within your chest as you watched him, the loosening of Hank’s hand pulling and wrenching at the pit within your stomach. You had well and truly done it this time. 

Erik seemed to ignore you, shrugging off the onlookers that attempted to come to his aid; allowing the air beside your head one last scathing glance before he departed from the crowd, from the room entirely. Wasting no time in following him, you dumped your purse and drink into Hank’s arms before breaking into a full sprint; throwing any sense of formality to the wind as you shoved through the crowd whilst simultaneously calling to his retreating back. 

“Erik, please-” You called as you finally emerged from the crowd, the main doors slamming behind you as you stopped before him. His back was turned, feet poised as if ready to retreat, though he had stopped. Droplets of blood resounded against the linoleum, a steady flow of red dribbling from the cuts upon his hands, “Erik, you need to-” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Erik’s tone was demanding, his back clenching as he resolutely refused to turn, to face you. 

“What-”

Finally, he turned; spinning on his polished heel and stalking towards you- face practically carved from stone, his gaze bleeding into yours, “Why didn’t you tell me about you and McCoy?” He practically spat Hank’s name, the name convulsing from his lips. 

Scowling, you straightened your back; standing strong as you grit your teeth at him, “Why would that have been any of your business, Erik?” 

Scoffing, he backed away; scrubbing his non-injured hand upon the stubble upon his jaw, almost in disbelief, “Of course- why would it be?” He laughed sardonically, throwing his hands in the air and shrugging his shoulders. 

“What is your problem?” 

He seemed to still, to quiet; his throat bobbling heavily as his eyes bore into you- eventually, he looked away, lip clutched beneath his teeth, “You know what, nothing-” 

“Okay,” You nodded, feigning deep thought, “Let me rephrase then, why do you care?” 

Erik blinked, almost in disbelief, “Come on Y/N- you know exactly-” 

“-Because last I heard, you had a date for this-” 

“-Who told you that?!” 

“You!” You were shouting now, chest heaving at the patchworked conversation presented before you, “You did, Erik!” 

He was truly in disbelief now, shaking his head and struggling to find the words; eventually he settled for one, insignificant word. He practically drawled it, set up a board and sketched out the word at agonising speed, “What?”

Laughing, mostly to yourself, you gestured towards him, “You told me.” At his silence, you opted to continue speaking, “At the lake, you told me you were going on a date with Charles’ assistant.”

“I never-” Erik groaned, hand moving to pinch the bridge of his nose as he sighed; visibly exhausted, “I know for a fact that I did not say that because-,” He was the one to laugh then, hacking at his chest as he forged his words, “-Because, you interrupted me, left and then haven’t looked at me since!” He seemed to check off the series of events on the fingers of his uninjured hand before waving his clenched fist in your direction, “So, I am assured in the knowledge that I did not say that, because I haven’t spoken to you in two weeks!” 

“Okay, well, I have looked at you-” 

“-No, you haven’t.” 

Slamming your mouth shut, you scowled, crossing your arms petulantly; he simply watched you, the turn of his mouth pulling in its usual smug fashion. “Y/N-” 

“Your hand is covered in blood.”

Smiling, he looked down at it, flexing his fingers before turning his gaze back towards you, “I know.” 

“So who did you come with then?” You shrugged, completely disregarding your worries regarding his hand, “Shouldn’t you be with her instead of-” 

“Y/N, you are completely missing the point… I didn’t come with anyone.” 

“Oh,” You breathed, desperately attempting to hide the relief evident within your exhale, “Why?”

“Because that night at the lake,” He exhaled through his nose; his eyes flitting in between your face and the wall as he breathed, he seemed to be trembling slightly as he conjured the words adjacent to his evidently racing thoughts, “I was going to ask if you wanted to accompany me.”

“Oh.” You repeated dumbly, utterly gobsmacked at his words. 

“But, it’s now evident that McCoy beat me to it, so-” 

“Me and Hank aren’t together.” The words left you in a rush, you knew that your wide eyes mirrored Erik’s own perfectly; shock evident within both of your features. 

“Okay-” 

“I completely jumped to conclusions and I thought you were bringing a date, so I- I didn’t want to show up alone so I borrowed Hank…for the night.” 

“You borrowed Hank.”

“...Yes.” 

Erik suddenly burst into laughter; his face morphing to accustom the sudden change in emotion as he outrightly laughed at you. You could only stand there; slightly offended, slightly relieved at the upbringing of events. 

Erik had wanted to ask you to be his date. 

Did Erik have feelings for you?

“Okay, just to be clear, you weren’t asking me to the dinner as f-” Your words were abruptly cut off as Erik suddenly broke into a stride, marching up to you before placing his hands upon your cheeks and pressing his lips to yours completely, inhaling heavily as if he wanted to ingest you, taste you. You immediately kissed back with the same fervour, intertwining your fingers with the short hair upon his head and accustoming your senses to the scent of blood that was now smeared upon your cheeks. 

Eventually, unfortunately, he pulled away; gazing down at you with hooded eyes. You watched as he bit his tongue, the motion tightening his jaw as he stared down at you, vision unguarded; almost unsure. You knew you looked like something straight out of a horror story, blood smeared upon your cheek and the bridge of your nose- you could only sigh blissfully as he ran his fingers through the mess he had created, spreading it until his finger reached your lips. 

You both stilled; breaths catching in your chests. 

After a long moment, you nodded, your eyes soon fluttering closed as he began to spread the liquid upon your lips- the copper tang of his blood immediately permeating your senses. His eyes were practically drooping now; his irises blown out in pleasure. Keeping your eyes upon his; you gauged his every movement as you sucked his finger into your mouth, effectively cleaning it and your lips of his blood.  You knew in that moment that this was forever; this connection that had been forged between your souls, intertwined at each end and tightened right in the middle. Forged entirely from his very own metal.

[wannabespacesmuggler]

L.H. | When You Call My Name

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Decades after the events of 1973, Logan finds himself drowning yet again at the bottom of the Potomac River. Luckily, you're there to help pull him out of his nightmare.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: depictions of drowning, mentions of death, discussion of nightmares, Logan's claws make an appearance, mentions of religious trauma and biblical imagery, mentions of abuse (it's on sight when I see you, William Stryker), mentions of self-deprecating thoughts, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, not really a warning but set after the events of Days of Future Past, loosely based on "Like a Prayer" by Madonna, Logan's POV, gender-neutral reader

Word Count: 2.4K

Author’s Note: So this one got away from me and my own religious trauma may have taken over a tad bit — sorry in advance (If you find comfort and solace in religion, more power to you. This is simply written from my own perspective and lived experience.) This came to me while listening to "Like a Prayer" by Madonna for the thousandth time since seeing Deadpool and Wolverine. Intended this to be shorter, but then I got possessed by some fanfic phantom and this was created. Super proud of the finished product though — hope you all enjoy.

As Logan’s eyes shoot open, he’s only got one thought running through his mind: his lungs are on fire. He attempts to move but is met with a sudden searing white pain shooting through his veins. His eyes, still adjusting to the eerie darkness surrounding him, search for the source of his injury. Panic rises in Logan’s chest as his gaze follows the metallic glint of rebar weaving through his body. He attempts to draw in a shaky breath, and his chest burns as water fills his lungs. 

No. 

It can’t be.

He’s drowning at the bottom of the Potomac River.

Logan wants to scream out of frustration, but it’s impossible. He has no more air left in his lungs, and he has no hope of reaching the surface to take a much-needed deep breath. Even if he could endure the agony caused by his body’s movements, the weight of the rebar Erik impaled him with is pinning him to the riverbed. He’s going to die here. 

Cold. Alone. Suffering.

And yet, a sudden tranquility washes over his body and mind as he realizes that maybe he can finally rest in peace. He knows he placed his trust in the right people — somehow, Charles and Hank will find a way to stop Erik, and finally, the world will see that not all mutants need to be feared. He did his part — he brought everyone back together against all odds.

Logan knew the risks before Kitty sent him back in time, but there was no other choice. Because he also knew what the future would hold if he did nothing — he’d watch the sentinels eviscerate the last of his friends until he was the only one left. And that’s not a future he can live with. But what he can live with is no one remembering his life before 1973 as long as they’re safe — as long as you’re safe.

His body relaxes at the thought. He may not have a future with you in this new timeline, but knowing you’ll have the life you’ve always dreamed of puts Logan’s mind at ease. You’ll finally be able to live a peaceful life teaching at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters instead of being forced to play the part of a loyal soldier. Although Logan is deeply saddened by the fact he won’t be a part of this new life, he has more than enough memories of you from his timeline to keep him content in the afterlife.

Logan’s eyes flutter closed as he begins to feel himself slipping into unconsciousness. His regenerative abilities may be able to keep the rebar from killing him, but it cannot save him from asphyxiation. But before he can completely drift off, something grabs his body, pulling him towards the surface. Once free from the river’s grasp, he begins coughing up water. His body desperately gasps for air, and it feels like his lungs cannot get enough oxygen. 

Logan finds the strength to open his eyes and takes in his surroundings. It’s bright — too bright. He blinks several times to adjust his vision to this sudden change. His attention gets drawn to the sound of several men talking in hushed voices. And as he looks up at his rescuers, the panic in his chest starts growing like a wildfire through his body. Logan might have let out a dry laugh at the sight if he wasn't in excruciating pain. Because instead of being met with any type of salvation, Logan seems to have been cursed with eternal damnation, no matter the timeline,  in the form of William Stryker. Some things never change.

He’s younger than when Logan met him in his timeline, but as Stryker smiles down at him, Logan knows this is the same man — the same sick, twisted man he knows all too well. Panic turns into terror as he realizes what he’s about to endure. Agonizing years of torture and torment that he’ll be burdened to forget. He can’t do this again. Not after knowing a life full of not only hardship and loss but also friendship, laughter, and love. He can’t let Stryker take that from him — all those years of happiness. He can’t let him take you.

Stryker opens his mouth to speak, but instead of his condescending tone, Logan hears your voice call his name. Logan’s brow furrows at the sound. Maybe his extended lack of oxygen caused some sort of brain damage. But then he hears it again — a voice he’d recognize in any timeline. Your voice.

And suddenly, it hits him. This isn’t happening. There’s no river, no pain, no Stryker. This is a memory — a nightmare. 

His eyes snap open, and his body jolts forward until he’s sitting up. He coughs hoarsely, as if his body is still trying to expel imaginary water, as he attempts to catch his breath. A layer of sweat has formed over his toned body, and his muscles flex as he rolls his shoulders back. He shakes his head roughly, trying to get a grip on reality.

And then you say his name again. 

His head snaps up, and he looks at you with wild eyes. You’re standing across the room — arms wrapped around yourself tightly as you watch him worriedly. You take a hesitant step toward him. Logan’s brow furrows at your unsureness, concerned about what he might have done in his sleep. But then he follows your gaze to his extended metal claws, and your hesitancy becomes understandable. This isn’t the first time Logan’s claws have come out in the middle of the night. His eyes nervously scan over your body for any injuries he may have inflicted as he retracts his claws. 

“Did I hurt you?”

You immediately cross the room as he speaks. Logan watches as you climb onto the bed and sit crisscross before him between his legs. You gently take both of his hands in yours and pull them onto your lap — the hesitancy long gone in your actions. 

“No, Logan. I’m okay.”

He lets out a relieved sigh as he leans forward until his forehead meets yours. He takes a moment to simply relish in the warmth of your touch. Logan relaxes his tense shoulders and melts further into you as you draw lazy circles into the palm of his hand. 

“Where’d you go?”

You pull away slightly to meet his eyes, and his breath hitches. Regardless of how many lifetimes he spends by your side, he’ll never get used to the fondness in your gaze as you look up at him. He remembers waking up in this timeline, thinking he actually did drown at the bottom of the Potomac River. Because this had to be heaven: having you tucked neatly into his chest, legs tangled up with his, steady breaths fanning across his neck. But as he felt you stir in your sleep, arms tightening slightly around his waist, he realized that this was real. He’d come to terms with his own death because at least his two hundred years spent suffering on this earth would mean something. But then he woke up from that nightmare, and he’s spent every day since then wondering when he’d inevitably be pulled out of this dream — waiting for history to repeat itself yet again. But he’s still here — and so are you.

“D.C., 1973.” 

You hum quietly before bringing his hand up to your mouth and placing a tender kiss to his palm. Logan waits for you to ask another question about his nightmare, but you silently return to tracing circles into the palm you just kissed. He shouldn’t be surprised; you know him better than anyone by now — better than he knows himself. You know not to push him. And he appreciates it more than you’ll ever know. After years of having his autonomy stripped away, you wait for him to come to you — allow him to open up at his own pace. Soothe him whenever he feels that he is sliding backward instead of moving forward. Healing isn’t linear. This has become your mantra for him on the nights when he’s sure that he’s slipping back into the past — when he longs for the familiarity of his vices and self-destructive tendencies. And you sit next to him with relentless patience through the highs and lows as he continues to navigate and grieve the fifty years he lost.

He’s come a long way since he first woke up. And he still has a ways to go before he can say that he’s processed everything he’s lost. Truth be told, he’s not sure he’ll ever truly heal entirely from his past. But you tell Logan that it doesn’t matter. Every time he begins to think that he’s too damaged — too broken — you reassure him that you love him as is. But he still tries to piece himself back together, for your sake. Tries to open up — to show you that he trusts you more than anyone he’s known during his two hundred years across two separate timelines. And so he continues, letting you into the depths of his tortured mind.

“I was drowning. Again. And it all felt so real. I couldn’t breathe, and I was sure I was slipping into the darkness, but then Stryker was there…”

As Logan trails off, he notices how your body tenses at the mention of Stryker’s name. Your hands tighten ever so slightly around his, and Logan lovingly sweeps his thumb over your knuckles. He knows that name holds as much weight to you as it does to him. He knows about the years of abuse you endured at the hands of William Stryker. He vividly remembers when you confided in him. After months of running into each other in the middle of the night, Logan found you silently crying with your back pressed against the railing of your favorite balcony in the mansion. Without a second thought, he slid down next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He didn’t know you — not like he does now. You’d recounted how you first met on Three Mile Island when Scott and Jean brought him to the mansion. And he was thankful for the small piece of his past that you gave back to him. But under the dim light of the night sky, you revealed precisely what you endured during your years of captivity at Stryker’s facility. And that night, Logan made it his life’s mission to get revenge against the man. Not for his sake. No — for you. He would tear Stryker apart limb from limb for what he had done to you. 

“You aren’t there. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Although the words are directed towards him, he knows you’re equally trying to convince yourself of that fact. He knows that even though William Stryker is long dead — after Logan made good on his promise to you — he still haunts you. Unlike Logan, your trauma does manifest in the form of nightmares but insomnia. He thinks maybe this is why the two of you work. After years of feeling alone in this world, Logan finally found someone who understands him and what he’s been through. Although your torment isn’t identical, the similarity in your stories bonded the two of you together. You help him piece together the shared fragments of your past as you heal alongside him. 

“I know, you pulled me out.”

Your brow furrows at his confession. He lets go of your hands and gently holds your face. Your face flushes as he openly admires you. The faint light of the single side table lamp that Logan had left on softens your features, making you look damn near angelic. Logan isn’t a religious man, but his mother was. He was a sickly child before his mutation restored his body. His mother would often sit by his bedside with a bible in hand. And on the nights when he wasn’t delirious from his fever, he would listen to his mother read to him. One verse always stood out to him: “God is faithful, and He will not let you be tested beyond your strength but with your testing He will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.” She meant for the words to comfort him, but the words only angered him. 

He remembers finding himself down on his knees multiple times during his years as Stryker’s mindless, faithful soldier. Praying to that same God that his mother once trusted to save her baby boy from the illness slowly degrading his frail body. He begged Him for salvation — to be given the way out that was promised in the bible verse his mother once recited. But instead of an answer, Logan was met with silence. So if the years of physical and psychological abuse he endured were nothing but a test from the Lord above to prove his faithfulness, then that’s no God worth following. 

“I heard you call my name, and it brought me back home.”

God never did anything for him. He didn’t bother protecting the innocence of a broken, misguided child. He refused to provide respite from the harshness of humanity. He never offered him any form of help or guidance during his times of greatest need — but you did. Without even knowing, you came into his life like an answered prayer.

Seemingly at a loss for words due to the intensity of his gaze, you grab onto the front of Logan’s t-shirt and pull him into a tight embrace. Your hands slide under the white fabric and slide across the contours of his back. He melts into your touch — finding relief in the direct contact of your skin on his. He’s never considered himself desirable, but you hold him like he’s something to be coveted. And then you murmur his name again. It’s barely a whisper, but the sound rings in his ears because your voice is heaven-sent.

“You’re a goddamn saint, you know that?”

A melodic laugh escapes your lips as you shake your head at his words. You pull away from him slightly and tilt your head up to meet his gaze. 

“I’m nothing special, Logan.”

You don’t mean it in a self-deprecating way. Logan knows that — knows that you simply see yourself as ordinary. But you couldn’t be more wrong. Because you might not actually be a saint or an angel, but you are the only person in two hundred years who’s managed to restore his faith in what this world has to offer. 

“Well. You’re special to me, sweetheart.”

[awkward-walking-potato]

X-Men masterlist

Link to my marvel one - here

My requests are open!

Wolverine Masterlist

Deadpool Masterlist

Remy Lebeau

In sickness and in health - Request for Remy with his lady being sick?

Steady as a card in the wind - Gambit with a partner with anxiety

Jealous Remy - A guy starts flirting with reader at the bar and how he reacts

Clubbing with Gambit

Guess - Gambit returns to the woman he hurt, admitting his fear of commitment and asking for a chance to prove his love. Despite her lingering pain, she decides to give him one last chance, hopeful that this time might be different.

Under the Crescent Moon - Remy takes you to a drive in movie to see his favourite movie, Princess and the frog.

Trick or Treat - “I couldn’t find a costume, so I just decided to go as your [partner/bf/gf].”

Playful Bites - gender neutral reader who likes to affectionately bite him

Remy comforting the reader after a nightmare

Prom Night pressure - Planning prom gets too much and causes you to overwork yourself

Hank Mccoy

Reassurance - reader has a panic attack and Hank comforts them

Quiet Moments in the Lab - reader who gets overwhelmed cause she has a similar mutation to Charles, and finds comfort in the quiet of the lab

Kurt Wagner

The midnight Visitor - It is just Kurt being the biggest kitty cat

Tangled hearts,Torn leather - Kurt with a Punk reader and they are very much sunshine and grumpy trope

In the blink of a heart - What Kurt would think about his shy gender neutral crush giving him a love letter before leaving quickly

Saved by Nightcrawler - Kurt saves your life on a mission so you save his

Pouting and fluff - Kurt comes in soaking wet and you have to dry him off

Swashbuckling - What happens when you watch pirates of the Caribbean with Kurt.

Shades of Us - Kurt with reader who has a physical mutation like himself

Kurt surprising his gender-neutral s/o by wrapping his tail around their waist in private

Kurt reacting to his gender neutral crush telling him that they admire how kind he is despite how much he had suffered in the past

Fuzzy Comforts - reader comes home drunk and immediately latches onto nightcrawler and starts calling him a teddy because of the fur

Shadows of devotion - Kurt x goth Mutant reader (whose power is smoke like turning herself into smoke or smoke like Illusions)

Drawn to you - Kurt ends up seeing the art that the reader makes

Whispers of Moonlight - Kurt makes friends with death

Discovering You Were in an Illegal Mutant Cage Fighting Ring

Reflections - the reader feels ugly and has been treated unkindly because of it and kurt helps them out

Charles Xavier

A gentle touch - Charles looks after a sick reader

Are you still busy? - reader who just keeps bothering him while he is working cause they want his attention and every one else is busy

Erik Lehnsherr

Beautiful Darkness - The reader has always felt like an outcast even with the other mutants till she meets Erik

Moonlit reflections - “I spent so long in the darkness I’d almost forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is.” Erik helps out a reader with a werewolf mutation

Comfort in the Darkness - Erik helps with reader see how beautiful her powers are

Scott Summers

headcanons for how Scott would support an S/O struggling with depression and mental health

An Easy Fix - When your car breaks down near the mansion Scott is there to help

Headcanons

Logan and Wade on Receiving a Love Letter from Their Shy, Gender-Neutral Crush

Gambit's on Receiving a Love Letter from His Shy, Gender-Neutral Crush

Remy, Logan, and Wade would think about his female s/o walking in on him

Remy, wade, and logan reacting to their s/o wearing lip plumping lip gloss

Remy, Logan, and Wade would think walking in on his female s/o

Remy, Logan, Wade, and Kurt on their Gender-Neutral S/O Asking to Hold Their Hand/Arm Before a Scary Halloween Movie

Headcanons: Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler) & Remy LeBeau (Gambit) with Siren!Reader

headcanons for how Storm, Magneto, and Nightcrawler would react to an S/O whose mutation isn’t combat-oriented and who feels insecure or weak compared to the others

headcanons for how Kurt and Scott would react to having an S/O with a "sunshine aura":

Scott Summers (Cyclops), Charles Xavier (Professor X), and Magneto might react to a reader with a powerful and versatile mutation who feels undercoordinated

Scott (Cyclops), Remy (Gambit), and Logan (Wolverine) would react to rescuing a reader who had been trapped in an illegal mutant fighting ring

Remy (Gambit), Wade (Deadpool), and Logan (Wolverine) would react to their shy, gender-neutral crush whispering a confession in their ear

Remy, Wade, and Logan might react and feel about a gender-neutral S/O who always makes sure to tell them "I love you" whenever possible

headcanons for a polyamorous relationship between Wade Wilson (Deadpool), Logan (Wolverine), and their gender-neutral s/o who acts as a mediator and the voice of reason

Kurt, Emma, and Scott with a reader that’s a little off-putting? They’re mostly harmless but them not making a sound still gives people a start.

Remy, poly Wade, and Logan would think about his shy gender neutral s/o asking him to kiss his forehead in hopes that he would feel loved

Remy, poly Wade, and Logan would think about his gender neutral s/o telling him that they haven't calmed down from the disagreement/arguement so they want to sleep separately

Remy (Gambit), Logan (Wolverine), and Kurt (Nightcrawler) might react to an S/O who often depreciates themselves

[ghouly-boiiiii]

Does Max give anyone else major twist villain vibes???

Okay I haven't talked about Max much yet, but I think it's kinda wild to see people talking about him like he's just this sweet innocent cinnamon roll when my read on his character was the COMPLETE opposite.

I mean yes, he does seem very sweet. He's very soft spoken. Naive in a way like Lucy, but not as much. Kinda vulnerable. Got a killer smile. And some of the moments with him and Lucy are super cute and adorable. But damn if he doesn't have a DARK side!

Like I've heard people say that Max is stupid or that Aaron Moten's acting is bad, but hell no. Aaron Moten sold me on his acting during the interrogation scene. Max was scared shitless and I FELT that. I think Max was meant to be played as a character who lacks understanding about certain things and seems disconnected from people due to both being brought up in basically a cult and having an inherent lack of empathy.

You think about the fact that he admitted he wanted Dane to get hurt, someone who's supposed to be his best friend. How he coldly sat there and watched Titus die. And before that stood there and watched him get mauled by a bear, almost like he was fascinated by it and wanted to see what was gonna happen. The fact that he tried to kill Thaddeus the moment he became a threat, even though the two of them had appeared to have bonded and developed a genuine friendship. And let's not forget he was willing to let all of Vault 4 get plunged into darkness just so he could keep playing with his power armor.

Max wants to be a knight, he wants to be a hero. And I think he tells himself he wants it for the right reasons, but I think what he REALLY wants is power and recognition. Which is really what every (okay maybe not every, but a lot) good villain wants, right? Because at the end of the day Max wants what Max wants. He's selfish, even though he doesn't think he is.

And sure, he's nice to Lucy. And he went balls to the wall to save her when he thought Vault 4 was gonna execute her. But she's a pretty girl who helped him and offered him a safe home. When she gave him the proposition that if she helped him bring back the head, he would have the Brotherhood lend her some knights to save her dad, he KNEW he couldn't make that promise. But he made the deal anyway. So he doesn't REALLY care about her or what she wants.

And that blank stare he gets when he gets mad? ACTUALLY terrifying. The guy's got serious psychopath vibes. Literal anti-social personality disorder, if you ask me. In fact the first thing I thought about when Max let Titus die is this kids going to end up going to the dark side lol.

And I think that would work really well thematically if they plan on giving The Ghoul a redemption arc beside it. There are so many parallels between Lucy and The Ghoul, and they have such a strong connection to the beginning when the bombs dropped. I get that Max is there to represent the Brotherhood and he's from Shady Sands, the town Hank destroyed, but it felt weird that he didn't seem to be AS important in the grand scheme of things compared to Cooper and Lucy.

But if Max turned out to be a badass twist villain to thematically contrast Cooper's redemption arc, while Lucy remains steadfast to her commitment to goodness and the golden rule I feel like that would really round it out. It would make sense if you consider a lot of people have pointed out that Lucy, Cooper and Max all seem to represent different play styles and different moral alignments. And I think it'd be pretty crazy if the writers of the show set out to make it seem like Ghoul is a bad guy and Max is a good guy, but then it ended up being the opposite.

I mean, there are definitely hints all over the show that The Ghoul isn't as bad as he may seem. And Max has already done some pretty messed up stuff, so I'd say the possibility is totally there, and I'd be here for it!

Who's with me???

[fandomxo00]

I miss you, I'm sorry - Erik Lahnsherr - Magneto - Days of Future Past

PLEASE GO READ MY PINNED POST!

word count: 2.8k

warnings: dark!Erik, dark!reader, smut insues beware!, its 18+!, angsty, fighting, i miss you, i'm sorry gracie abrams

Do you remember happy together?

When you first met Erik you had been infatuated with him, looking up to him as a mentor and falling in love with his charm. He didn't really have to try; he would just shy a nonchalant smile and make butterflies erupt in your chest. Erik soon became a friend to you and let you know more about his perspective. He wanted a world of mutants that didn't have to hide in the shadows or to be scared to be who they are. Mutants deserved freedom and should even be worshipped for their power. The melancholy way he spoke to you made you sympathize with him. Then he leant into you, his arm resting on the couch below you. His ocean blue eyes looking into yours, you felt yourself choke a little, looking away from him.

I do, don't you?

"Liebling, look at me." He persuaded. You felt yourself sink into the couch as you looked into his eyes.

"What does that mean?" You laughed, your voice cutting off awkwardly. The side of his mouth quirked up before he gave me a perfect smile.

"Darling, in german." Erik replied, his hand reaching out to move a piece of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. "You are…Perfection." You blushed, leaning into his hand as he cupped your cheek and leaned into you. His lips softly met yours and you completely melted into him.

Then all of sudden, you're sick to your stomach

You stared down at Charles, your heart broken in your chest as Charles looked up at you with tears in his eyes. Your sister, Moira, had your best friend in her lap as she stared down at him with crystalized eyes. Erik had left him just like this, over something so silly. And Erik had hurt him, really bad, he was paralyzed.

"Y/n." Erik reached out, as you stared up at him with scared eyes.

"I can't." Erik swallowed at your reply before looking over at Angel. She moved towards him and you felt your heart break in your chest. Is that still true?

You were dissociated when he came to you. You didn't expect him to show up to the mansion. Charles was slumped into a depression as Hank was trying to come up with serum to heal him. He hadn't gone through the front door but rather flew to your window and knocked. You opened it for him and he came through, immediately coming up to you and putting his hand on your chin and leaning down to put his lips on yours. You gasped into his mouth, your hands going to chest. "I missed you." He murmured, moving to your neck and kissing your pulse point and making you whine softly. "Missed that sound."

Erik's hands moved to your hips, and he leant down to pick you up, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you continued to kiss his lips, passionately. He started moving towards the bed before laying you down the mattress and grinding his hips into yours as leant over you. "Wait-." Erik kept kissing down your jaw before stopping as he registered your words, still leaning over you and moving his lips to yours.

"What?" He croaked.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this. We aren't-you aren't supposed to be here."

"I'm not the one who choose someone else." Erik snapped into your ear, making you flinch. Your jaw clenched as you moved your hands to his chest and shoved him off of you.

"I didn't choose someone else. You-."

"I what?" He seethed, staring at you with rage in his eyes. "You don't think I know what I did? I have to live with that, don't pretend that you do."

"You're such an asshole." You growled, moving away from him and getting off the bed and walking over to the window. "Get out." Erik moved off the bed in anger before pausing, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath. He shook his head letting out a airy breath before opening his eyes. His aura completely changed as he met your eyes.

"I'm sorry." Erik murmured, stepping towards you. "I didn't come here to fight, I just-I want you."

"You can just show up here and take what you want, Erik. I have a say."

"I never said you didn't. I would never trap you, but Xaiver?" Erik scoffed. "He'll manipulate you, plead with you, make you feel gulity until-." You flicked your hands towards him and his mouth shut, rage simmered in your eyes that they turned black. Erik's eyes blazed in heat, his patience wearing then as you heard your metal bed frame reach for you. You grinned over at him, before moving away and pushing Erik against the wall as you reached out your hand.

"Your fast but i'm faster, Erik." You remarked, as you walked towards him your heart beating in your eyes. "I'm not the scared girl you once met, that awful Charles, showed me my full potential, something you would squash with your need to be the most powerful, but you aren't." You let him speak, as you snapped your fingers as he gritted his teeth, trying to prevent himself from saying he would regret. You looked away from him, your eyes trailing down his body to see erection through his jeans. "You like this…"

You said, "Forever", in the end I fought it.

"Of course I do, now let me go so I can take you." You grinned over at him, forgoing your old arguments to give into your need to feel him touch you. You flicked your fingers and his grip against the wall let go and he stepped forward to kiss you again. Your hands went to his face as he slid his tongue into your mouth. He was quick this time, picking you up and your head banged against the bookshelf as he started biting at your neck. "This isn't short term, Liebling." He started to whisper into your ear, "This is forever, you and I."

You didn't believe him but then you cried out softly as he bit at your pulse point before soothing it over with his tongue. He moved you back onto the bed before moving back to take off his shirt. You stared up at him, your hands going to your leggings and pulling them down your legs. The two of you watched each intently, as he took off his belt and snapped it together. "Turn around." You breathed out shakily, as you threw off your shirt, leaving your bra on before showing Erik your back. His large, callused hand met your shoulder blade, his touch soft before he moved forward to grab your arms, his chest meeting your chest as he lips met the back of your neck in a soft kiss.

His hands meet yours before one hand disappears to grab his black belt and he loops it around your wrists before pulling tightly. His hand soothes down your back before his finger meets the band of your panties and snapping it against your skin. Before his hand connected with the flesh of your ass, making you jutt forward. You heard the zip of his pants before the shuffling of moving down. You knew from previous lessons that you weren't supposed to look back at Erik, even though you were curious and wanted to see him. He would give everything to you, but you had to be good first, something that made your blood boil, but Erik was desperately hot when he was in control. You felt his hand on the belt, he tugged it back making your back curve as his other hand moved against your ass, rubbing his erection against you. "Please, Erik." You pleaded, your name falling off your lips made him want you even more. You heard a tear of fabric as split apart your panties before grabbing on to your hips and sliding his cock against your folds before plunging inside of your heat. You gasped out at the sensation of his cock filling you, he grunted behind you before sliding out and slamming back into you.

"Is that good for you? Is that enough?" Erik questioned, before bucking his hips into yours harshly. You choked out a moan, as you tried to stay up right as slammed into you.

"Yes." You breathed, moving your hips against his in harsh movements. Then you feel arms wrap around you as you wanted to give up and lay against the bed. Erik's arms gripping on to you, cradling you as he continued to grind his hips into yours, his head moving to the crook of your neck.

"You've been such a good girl." He murmured, moving one of his hands to unbuckle my hands and letting my hands move out to catch myself. Though you didn't have much time because he was tossing you on to your back and grabbing your thighs and moving them around his waist. His cock slides back into you, the angle he has you at makes you shutter, before his hand came to massage at your clit as he rutted into you. "Want to come all over me, baby." You buck your hips into him as you feel your orgasm arise into you before you shattered apart, crying out in lust.

After he was done with you, he was quick to grab his things and not say anything to you. You knew that your argument from before was going to sink into both of you, making the distance needed. Both of you were hurt and even though he cares about you, this would change everything.

Good to each other, give it the summer.

You hadn't spoken to each other for a long time after that, not until you met Peter and he broke Erik out of prison so he could help save the world. Because this random Logan showed up at Mansion saying that he was from the future and that he needed our help. You sat across from Logan on the flight, the two of you actually getting along. He had taken out his claws to save you a seat, declining Erik. You scooched in past him, your face didn't let out how you were feeling, he couldn't read you. He wasn't a telepath like Charles but he knew you like the back of his hand, or so he thought.

"Imagine if they were metal." Erik croaked, his german accent thick.

"Where did they dig you up?"

"For your information, he came to us." You clarified, not meeting Erik's gaze.

"You're gonna find this hard to believe, but, uh…you sent me. You and Charles. From the future." He revealed, before going on to better explain the situation to Erik. Then Charles went into further detail about he lost his power, Erik was eager to know.

"The treatment for my spine effects my DNA." Charles explained. "You sacrificed your powers so you could walk?" Erik questioned, a furrow in his brow and his eyes serious. You tried not to stare at the man, he had aged like fine wine. It had been over 11 years since you had seen him, since you had your daughter Edie, well technically his daughter aswell.

You were brought out of your thoughts by Charles reply, "I sacrifcied my powers so that I could…" he shakes his head before looking away from Erik, "What do you know about it?"

"I've lost my fair share." You heard his voice echo through your ears as you slipped out a picture of your daughter from your pocket. You had kept in the jet and changed after the mission. She had Erik's red hair but your (y/e/c) eyes, the picture mixture of both of you, she had came up with her superhero name, Polaris, she had inherited her father's mutation of the ability to control magnetism. Her favorite color was green and that's the color she mostly wore, she promised that when she is a big girl she'll dye her hair green too.

"Ah, dry your eyes, Erik." Charles taunted, tears welled up in his eyes as he continued, "It doesn't justify what you've done."

"You have no idea what I've done." Erik snapped.

"I know that you took the things that mean the most to me." You watched something in Erik snap at that as he looked over to you to see the hurt your eyes. Charles had spoken about the relationship between Mystique and Erik, but you never wanted to believe that he was able to move on from you.

"Well, maybe you should have fought harder for them." Erik spoke, his voice violent with edge.

"If you want to fight, Erik, I will give you a fight!"

"Both of you stop." You grunted, standing up to separate the two of them. You looked Charles in the eyes, telling him that you couldn't get hurt. He could risk his life being stupid, he couldn't risk yours, or Hank's. There would be no one else left to raise Edie, you doubted that Erik would step up and be a parent to her.

"No-you abandoned me! You took her away!" Charles yelled, moving around, to confront Erik. "And you abandoned me!"

Erik laughed sardonically, malicious intent in his words, "No-you don't get to sit here and pretend you didn't take the most important person to me away. You knew how I felt for her, but you let her take pity on you!" "Angel." Erik started. "Azazel, Emma, Banshee." The plane creaked and you stared over at Logan pleading for him to do something as you froze in your seat before whispering over to him. "I have a child, please."

"Both of you sit down." Logan called.

"Mutant brothers and sisters, all dead!" The plane creaked oncemore, as it tlited to the side, you gasped.

"Erik-please." You shouted. You gripped the edge of the seat, trying to get up.

"Sit down, Y/n."

"I can't-." You protested.

"Countless others experimented on, butchered."

"Erik!" Hank yelled.

"Where were you, Charles? We were supposed to protect them!"

"Edie! Make him stop, Charles! Think about how Edie would be losing her mother!"

"What?" The plane went back to normal, and everyone visabliy took a breath. You stood from your chair, walking over to Erik and pushing him.

"So you were always an asshole." Logan commented.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"Who's Edie?" Erik questioned.

"Our daughter." You revealed. Erik took a step back from you, betryal crossed his face as he turned back to Charles, his demeaour deadly but calm.

"Where were you when your own people needed you?" He said. "You and Hank hid them from me. Pretending to be something you're not, complaining about Raven when she decided to leave you! But you hid my daughter, not yours!" his voice started to raise. "You abandoned us all and you-." he pointed at you, making you gulp. "We need to talk, now." His voice commanded the room and Logan stood up.

"You don't have to go with him." Logan assured. "But uh, I wouldn't worry about anything."

"What do you mean?" You asked and Logan shrugged before sitting back down. You glanced back over at Erik and followed him into the back of the plane that was converted into a bedroom suite. You sat on the bed as Erik paced back and forth.

I miss fighting in your old apartment

"You named her Edie? Why didn't you call?" Erik pleaded, you were surprised his demeanor was so calm, but you would have to guess that he was crushed by the matter. Especially with the way he had so calmy spoken to Charles about you and Edie.

"You've been in prison for a long time, Erik, and before you hadn't reached out in months and after everything I don't know if I can trust you."

"I would never hurt you or her." Erik declared, as you gulped out a laugh.

"Then what was that 5 seconds ago, Erik? And honestly, I thought you would hate me, so-why would I tell you? I wanted her." You explained.

"I would never make you-get rid of our child, Y/n."

"I didn't know that, I didn't know how you felt for me, that I was important to you."

"I have always loved you, I promise." Erik pleaded.

"I love you too, Erik." You started to cry, letting all of emotion out as Erik crossed over to you and wrapped his arms around you. You wept into his shirt and he rubbed at your back. "I will follow you, okay?" "I'll gain your trust your again, I promise with you by my side, we can conquer the world." Erik explained, as you smiled over at him and leaned in to kiss his lips.

[cherrysha]

To Be Alone

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

A/N: Getting this tf outta my drafts,,, banishment style. if its formatted wrong its because im tipsy and im too lazy to fix it,,, itll get fixed in the morning <3

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: Paranoia, weed, dubcon (since reader is under the influence), slight body horror

It’s already dark outside when you get to Yuuji’s apartment. Streetlights glimmer with a low electric buzz as you make your way up the concrete stairs. Its unseasonably cold outside, autumn air chilling through the light jacket you found haphazardly stuffed in the back of your car. He’s still blowing your phone up, probably ‘where are you??’ messages like he hasn’t been texting you that for the past fifteen minutes. Like he doesn’t know how far your work is from his apartment. You'd been friends long enough now to know when to answer his texts and when to ignore the incessant buzzing of your phone. “Jesus” you mutter as his ringtone plays. It’s been years but he’s always like this. A little too eager, like a child. Hitting mute, you finally round the corner and knock on his door. Yuuji could be so impatient sometimes.  It only takes one rap against the metal before you can hear the bolts turning, your friend’s cottony pink hair greeting you, eyes scrunched in a bright smile. You can't be mad, not when the smile that covers his face is so genuine.

“You're insane” you huff out at him, stepping into the threshold and shimmying out of your coat in the process. His apartment is always so warm, a little too warm, but his older brother blew a gasket any time Yuuji tried to turn down the heat for you.

 “Am not!” you giggle as he puts a hand to his chest, mock annoyance coloring his face “You just need to be quicker… making me wait and all.” You ignore him, haphazardly kicking out of your shoes before stepping deeper into the apartment.

“isn’t Junpei coming? We have to wait for him anyway.”

“He, uh, didn’t feel like coming out tonight” you can hear the disappointment in his voice at the statement and it’s contagious. Yuuji’s had a crush on the boy for almost an entire year, which is hard to believe given his short attention span and lack of romantic interest. With an audible ‘tsk’ you ruffle his hair, smiling at the little indignant look on his face that threatens to spill over at the touch. 

“There’s always next time, Yuuji” he nods, smile returning as he follows you into the living room. 

“Was thinkin’ we could watch Cast Away, since you don’t like the scary stuff”. If Junpei were here, you know he’d make you watch a horror movie anyway. Probably send you off to his room during the really scary parts so you wouldn’t ruin the mood. The thought makes you smile, and you eagerly nod as you sink back into the sofa. Yuuji sits down next to you with a huff, fiddling with the remote until the movie starts in the background. He’s probably watched this one a dozen times. You know you’ve seen it with him too many times to count. Without much thought he turns it up before setting the remote back down and picking the blunt up off the coffee table. Thank God he figured out how to roll them up. The last thing you wanted was another thirty-minute session of trying to show him exactly how to do it himself. 

Tom Hanks’ boring little life plays out on the screen in front of you as Yuuji mumbles something about how you would’ve rolled it better, and not to judge his sloppy technique. He’s still learning and all. You don’t look his way to reply, only muttering “Free weed is free weed.” as you focus on the movie. He's never told you who his dealer is, and you’ve never outright asked. Whoever he was, he never seemed to be in short supply. All the dealers you’ve met at college were either professional frat boy scam artists, selling little baggies of trash weed to stupid rich boys, or untrustworthy as hell. The type to sell you laced product and not even bat an eye. Good dealers were hard to find. It wasn't surprising Yuuji hadn’t told you, and it didn’t matter since he rarely liked to smoke alone. Yuuji leans back into the couch as he lazily hands the blunt to you, coughing a little at the end of his exhale. You don’t think about it as you take it from his hand. 

Friday nights at Yuuji’s feels like routine at this point. Leave work, smoke a blunt or two on his couch as he monologues about the random movie he’s put on, sober up and go home to your empty apartment and sleep in until Yuuji blows your phone up again. Sometimes Junpei or Nobara join in too, but most of the time it’s just you and him. Like it’s always been. 

Time feels like syrup as you listen to him ramble, voice a breathy sigh as he tells you behind the scenes facts about the movie. How Wilson actually had his own lines in the script, how none of the sound was useable and had to be added in during post production. A treasure trove of useless facts that you happily indulge in listening to. It’s odd to think of him taking his time to learn such trivial things. The image of him blankly staring at the cast away wiki during lecture swirls in your mind, pulling a chuckle from your dry throat. He’d definitely do something like that. Probably wouldn’t care if he was caught either. 

“What’s so funny?” he mumbles, lazy smile almost infectious as you just nod your head at him, eyes averting back to the screen. 

Toms already stranded on the island, you think this is the part where he rips out an infected tooth, at least you hope it is. You didn’t want to be around to see that on the screen again.

“You want somethin’ to eat?” you mumble at him, pushing up from the couch.

  “Uh, can you get me a bottle of water?” you nod, with a small chuckle. His eyes are glazed over, half lidded as he watches the screen like he’s absorbing any information that’s being presented to him. In about five minutes he’d probably be asleep. 

You hear the scream from the kitchen as Tom finally pulls the tooth out with the blade of an ice skate. You were too squeamish to look at the screen the first time you watched it. Even now, the sound alone was enough to gross you out. 

Yuuji’s cupboards are always well stocked with garbage. Chips, candy, instant noodles, anything you wanted. You take another drag from the blunt, head fuzzing over with smoke as you stare at all the options. Sukuna kept most of his food separate, not that you had to worry much about accidentally eating it. The healthy stuff was all his. Mostly stuff that had to be prepared and cooked. You weren’t looking for that shit tonight. 

“You should probably eat something!” you call out to him. After a few seconds with no reply, you peek around the corner, unsurprised to see him snoring away loudly on the couch. Go figure.

He usually fell asleep later, during the first half of the second movie. When the blunt was at least half finished.  At least he left room for you on the couch this time.

Not thinking much about it, you grab a pack of cookies and two water bottles. One for you, and one for the bonehead if he decided to wake up any time soon. 

Yuuji had left another blunt unattended, letting it idly burn away in the ashtray while he snored unashamedly on the armrest. It wasn’t really a problem, if anything it meant more for you. Yuuji wouldn’t mind, if anything he’d probably be happy that it didn’t go to waste… He probably wouldn’t mind if you smoked the third one either…

~~~

Idly you sip the water, heart pumping faster than it should be, skin feeling clammier than normal. You didn’t feel normal. Nothing felt normal.

He’s been passed out for too long to be easily woken up by the time you start feeling it. ‘It’ being the ever-pressing creep of paranoia along the edges of your psyche. Tom Hanks is screaming as Wilson bobs away from the makeshift raft and you can't help but to think the neighbors hear. That they’re calling the cops for a wellness check as you sit there, unmoving. The ambient lights flickering in through the curtains no longer feels warm, but rather very, very insidious. What happens if you go to jail? Will you lose your scholarship? Do you even have a fucking scholarship? You shake your head to try and clear the thoughts away to no avail. Yuuji’s groaning in his sleep, drool pooling out of the side of his mouth and the sudden impending doom bubbles back to the forefront of your mind. What if he chokes on all that drool and dies and you go to jail because you weren’t keeping an eye on him? Is it possible to choke on your own spit? 

Your fears seem to be confirmed as the apartment door swings open, deafening compared to the low mumble of the tv and Yuuji’s deep snores. You can hear whoever it is close the door before walking down the hallway. What if it was the cops? Or even worse, someone here to rob Yuuji? Fuck, if that were the case, you'd have no qualms with them taking everything they wanted. It’s Yuuji’s fault he didn’t deadbolt the door.

You let go of the breath you'd been holding when Sukuna rounds the corner. Eyes flickering to his brother, then to you, then to the blunt burning away in the ashtray. 

You must look startled, wide eyes locked on him as adrenaline surges through your body. You must look a little suspicious too. 

“You good?” he asks, and you can't help but look away from his heavily tattooed face, eyes instead focusing on how his chest slowly moves under his plain white shirt with each breath. You blink, trying to mimic the natural motion, the steady in-and-out of his lungs filling up and exhaling air. 

“Yeah… yeah. I just thought you were someone else.”

“Who?” his voice is demanding, sharp. Its always been that way. Deep and rich and hard to ignore. The only time you’ve been able to hear him speak more than a few words is when he’s bitching Yuuji out over something.

Taking, what you think is a very short moment, you answer.

“The cops?” he’s sighing at the sheepishness in your voice. Obviously connecting the dots as he moves to snuff the lit blunt out in the ashtray.

You can't help it as you continue to talk, to give him more proof of your paranoia as you try to defend your own emotions to him. After too long, he stops you. Hand coming to rub his face in a movement that exposes his true irritation.

“I just wanted some peace and quiet” Sukuna groans. He takes a moment to stare at the ceiling. 

Silence hangs in the air like smoke as you try and find the words you need. Tell him that this is a mistake, a misunderstanding.

“I can go, if, if that’s what you wa-“ 

“Just shut the fuck up y/n.” he snaps, eyes finding yours just as tears threaten to spill. You don’t know why you were being so sensitive. Maybe it was because you’d never even met eye contact with the man, maybe it was because of your mental state, who was to tell. He groans again, moving closer and placing a hand on your head. Big arms encircle your waist as he hoists you up, free hand wiping at the tears sliding down your face as he walks down the hallway. 

He’s so warm, how have you not noticed before? It’s not like you had ever been this close to him to truly know. In fact, this is the closest you’d ever been to him, physically and emotionally. You’d never felt comfortable enough, even the other times he’d come home to find you and yuuji stoned out of your minds, he usually left you two to your own devices and acted as if you weren’t there.

Before you know it, he’s plopping you down on his bed, and even just being in the quiet dimly lit room with him is more comforting than it should be. After all, he was being kind, a side of him you rarely saw.

“Still in your work clothes” he mumbles to himself, that layer of irritable disappointment still threading through his words as he curses again. Whispering something about kicking Yuuji’s ass before his big frame disappears out of the room. It hits you then just how focused he is on your well being. He’d focused in on something you thought was a non-issue, fixated on your comfort even if you weren’t.

You can hear him, doors creaking open and rummaging noises distantly echoing from down the hall, but all you can focus on is how the ambient light in his room looks sinister now that you’re by yourself. It doesn’t take long before he’s back, tossing you a pair of Yuuji’s sweats and sitting a glass of water down on the bedside table. 

“Come out and let me know when you're changed.” he mumbles, but you already have a hand around his wrist. The touch softly begging him to stay and let you find comfort. Even if Sukuna is as comforting as a rock, it felt wrong being alone. You know it’s wrong, this is yuuji’s older brother, his older brother who’s rarely home, who’s done nothing but ensure your comfort, and yet, you can’t stop the well of feelings bubbling up in your chest at his casual decency. He stays, begrudgingly sighing as he sits down on the edge of his bed. You don’t expect him to give you any privacy, and he doesn’t, but you're too focused on keeping your cool to truly pay attention to the way his eyes roam over your exposed skin, eyebrow raising at the sight of you undoing your bra and tossing it into your pile of clothing. 

When you’re finished he asks if you're tired, quieter now, observing you as if he’s come to some new realization while watching you undress. You nod your head, hesitantly sitting on the edge of the bed. Hoping that maybe if you were lucky he wouldn’t make you sleep in yuuji’s room. The thought of being left alone with your own thoughts much scarier than the man in front of you. Even if he kicked you out, you’d probably find yourself on the couch next to yuuji, being kept awake by his incessant snoring. Even now you could faintly hear it, the sound reverberating through the hallway and into Sukuna's room.

Before you can think too much about it, however, hands find your hips, maneuvering you onto Sukuna’s chest as he lays down with you. Every inhale moves your body on his, deep breaths as he slides his palms up to the back of your head, lifting it so you have no choice but to stare into his eyes. 

“Feel any better?”. Vaguely, you think this is the nicest sukuna has ever been to you, even if he is forcefully tilting your head back. Usually, you only see him in passing, any words spoken on his part come out as a grunt and nothing more. Yuuji had told you that you were Sukuna’s favorite, whatever that meant. And when you had pressed Yuuji on that sentiment he had clammed up. Said Sukuna only let you stay the night, had only ever been himself around you. Of course you hadn’t known what he meant by that; Sukuna barely acknowledged you, never speaking to you unless he could do so in monosyllabic words or grunts. But tonight, he'd been nothing but kind, at least kind in his own right. 

You nod, breath hitching as he mutters out a “good girl” before kissing the crown of your head. There’s nothing further than that, and after a while his deep breaths even out. You feel like a cat, some sort of small animal that their owner has allowed to sleep on their chest. It’s all too docile. Slowly you find yourself drifting off as well.

Your rest ends up being shorter than you would’ve hoped because Its hot. Too fucking hot. Too hot to sleep, too hot to breathe. You need out. Slowly, you slip off the huge t shirt, uncaring of your bareness underneath. You need relief in some form. It takes a few tries before you can roll the sweatpants off of your hips. Maybe if you were sober you would’ve remembered that this was not the time nor the place to be laying yourself bare, but for right now, its hard to remember your propriety. In truth, you forgot about the fact that your were a guest in a grown man’s bed, In truth, you really didn’t stop to think about repercussions. By the time you’re done, you realize you have an audience. Sukuna’s eyes are staring down at you, fingers digging into the meat of your hips to still your movement.

“Sukuna I’m sorry-“ 

“You trying to start something?” 

“No, no I just got hot and- “

“You could’ve gotten the fuck off of me” it only takes a moment before tears threaten to spill at the harsh words, at the mean look on his face as he stares down at you. Its embarrassing, mortifying, that he’s right. Before you can make much progress on getting your body off of his a tight grip on your hips stills you as he readjusts, and places you squarely back on top of him again. 

“Such a crybaby” his hips rock up, hands pressing you down further as he moves languidly against you. “Feel that crybaby?” you nod, eyes still focused on his as he continues moving. He’s hard between your legs, every press of his hips squishing into that soft spot at the apex of your thighs, igniting a new type of heat inside of you.

“There’s no use trying to take advantage of me like that,” he grunts, still moving against you “coulda just asked. I’m more than happy to give you what you want.”

Its not like that, at least in your head it wasn’t. You had made too many bad choices tonight, and all of them had led you here. Straddling his wide hips, hands on his chest as you slowly grind back and forth on top of him, gasping at the delicious friction with every swivel. Its surprising he allows it, but Sukuna just calmly rests on his elbows, transfixed with the way the material of his sweatpants moves underneath you, how he can feel the heat radiating from your core like a furnace. 

Before long he sits up, hand wrapping around your hip to force you to still. He laughs at the whine that bubbles up from your throat, eyes searching your face as his free hand tangles in between you, pressing in between your bodies until he finds what he’s looking for. His thumb presses down softly at first, gentle and languid strokes over your clothed clit until your eyes flutter shut and you mouth drops open at the sensation. The syrupy feeling doesn’t last long, only a few minutes of his hips bucking up into yours, jostling you each time as his thumb traces careful circles, until he’s had enough and presses down on your clit harshly. His body shakes with laughter as you cry out in overstimulation.

 “such a glutton” his mouth finds your throat, lips closing over your pulse point as his eyes flutter shut  at the feel of your whines vibrating through the skin there. On a harsher thrust your nails accidentally scratch down the expanse of his muscular chest, ripping a growl from him in the process. Before you can apologize, he’s cursing again, hips moving against your own as he pulls and pushes you against him. Your best friend’s brother, beneath you, panting and groaning at the feeling of your nails in his chest. It doesn’t seem real, if anything it’s more believable that you passed out beside yuuji and ended up in a fucked up dream. Unfortunately for you the dull, bruising, ache of his hands on your hips solidifies this as reality, and unceremoniously you're dumped onto the bed, underneath him as he pants above you. 

His eyes look crazed, an inch away from terrifying, as he sloppily rips your underwear from you, ignoring the sound of the fabric protesting at such harsh treatment. It feels wrong, and that alone turns you on further. Sukuna’s chest rises and falls in his excitement, and two fingers push into you, gathering slick and messily smearing it over your pussy. His hand is still wet, glistening in the low light as it wraps around your knee, pushing both of them together and up. 

“Sukuna – “ 

 “who told you to speak?” he’s lining himself up, eyes focused as he slowly rolls his hips forward. You never even noticed his sweats came off, never wanted it to get this far, but before you can find your voice -

You expect to feel the harsh burn of him pressing inside of you, but it doesn’t come. instead, his cock is pushing through your thighs, glistening head squishing through sticky flesh as he starts to set a harsh pace. The underside brushes along your folds, gathering the slickness there with every pass as his pace only gets faster. 

“Fuck” he groans, hips twitching as he stills, trying to catch his breath at the sensation, at the fucked out expression on your face. He hasn’t even fucked you and yet you look an absolute wreck. You don’t feel much better either. Every slide of his hips forces more wetness from you, more noises from you. The feeling of his fingers digging into to crook of your knees keeps you firmly planted in the moment.

“All of this,” he sighs, finally picking up the pace after being a tease the entire night, “right under my nose this whole time.” the air is pushed out of your lungs as his cock finally rubs against your clit. 

The sound of his body slamming against your own fills the room. Sukuna leans down, and for a shocking moment you think he may actually kiss you, but his head goes even lower before you can feel his teeth biting against your neck. There’s no room to breathe with him like this, your hands curling into the red sheets, his mouth unabashedly leaving marks against your throat, its all too overwhelming. The sound of slapping echoes through the room. You’re left adrift in the sensation of Sukuna fucking your thighs so vigorously, the wet schlick of skin on skin, the sound of his panting breaths. Only a few more thrusts against your clit before you’re whining, thrashing against the bed, close to an orgasm that doesn’t come. 

“Did you really think I’d let you?” He breathlessly laughs “i’m not that kind sweetheart.”

Sukuna pulls back at the last second, hand on his cock as he jerks off in front of you, kneeing at your spread legs until you’re situated just the way he wants: legs spread, breathless, as he pumps his cock in front of your tits. 

“Such a pretty thing” he murmurs, “shame this is all goin’ to waste… maybe one day-“ the groan, and sudden release that bathes your chest, is startling. You’d never thought of yuuji’s brother in this way, moaning above you as he paints your chest white. But now the truth of it was jarring enough for you to see the truth for what it was. You had fucked your best friend’s brother. Had let him finish on your chest, even let him clean you up afterwards and croon sweet nothings into your ear during the process. You were even shameless enough to fall into a peaceful sleep next to him.

When you wake, the room still faintly smells of sex. Fear grips you as you hear something down the hall. Sukuna is long gone, something you’d expected before you even opened your eyes. You know he’s probably left the apartment already, that’s not what scares you. The sound reverberating down the hall is yuuji. Singing over some shitty pop anthem blaring through a speaker. How could you explain away fucking his brother?

[xenayami]

GONE

This series is going off based on @honey-minded-hivemind Dark AU for their platonic yandere xmen x reader please check them out for the original and support them on what they do they are incredible. ❤️

The reader of this story will be Fem. Her, Kurt, Kitty, and Pietro will all be aged to 14.

Beware this is a dark au so things could get graphic you've been warned and bad GRAMMER.

Prologue

Reader was founded by the x-men in a homeless shelter for kids when she was 12. Discovered by Charles Xavier who had found her through his power, sending Logan and Scott to retrieve the girl. Her abilities were to create spheres of protection and have the power to heal. But as many mutants' reader does have a limit to such lengths of what her powers can handle. Never had a family or even knew of her own. But when THE wolverine stretches his hand out for her to take how could she say no.

At some point, Lance was severely injured from a mission he was sent on with two other teens. Scott who had returned with Lance in his arms begged reader to heal him. "Please Kid... you're the only one I know that can help."

She barely succeeded managing to get lance out of the dying state but not healed completely. As soon as she was done her nose begins to bleed and later resulting to her collapsing. Of course, when she had awoken, she overheard the wolverine yelling at Scott. How could he put you through such a thing if he need someone to help Lance, he could of gone straight to hank. Not a 14-year-old who barely knows how her power works. "I regret it Logan I know I just thought-

"YOU THOUGHT WRONG!"

Her and Logan always had a close relationship since she joined the school. They both were loners. But the x-men saved them from such fate. Whenever reader was in his classroom training harder than any student, he had encountered he asked her. "Because I want to get stronger to protect the ones I care about." From that moment on he had watch over her like a daughter.

When reader first arrived at Charles Xaviers school, she immediately fit right in. Rogue and Jean loved her like a little sister. Scott and Gambit as well along with Wanda and Pietro. Logan thought of you as his daughter just as Erik 'Magneto' did as well. Charles loves you like his own as for the rest of his students and his x-men. Hank adores you as much as mystique.

There was a particular group you always hung out with Kitty, Pietro, Kurt and Jubilee. They were the first friends of you had since you came to the school, since ever. Knowing you've been by yourself for as long as you could remember. You had loved every single one of them.

You had finally found your family.

One night, when everyone was sleeping you silently swore to yourself, I'm going to get stronger I will, I want to have the strength to protect my family and friends. Even if it cost me my life.'

Unknown to you accouple of ears lingered near your room and hear you.

After that day everything was peaceful.

Until

Reader, Kurt, Pietro and Kitty were all going to go and shop for a surprise gift for their friend Jubilee. Scott and Jean sent them off.

"Now be careful out there got it, things can get out of hand when you least expect it." Scott stand Infront of the group crossing his arms over his chest looking at the group of kids.

"Geez yeah yeah we get it. Just don't tell Jubilee where we were, okay?" Pietro huffs. Jubilee was failing in a couple of classes and training lessons, so she had to stay behind. They thought going out to get her a special early birthday present would cheer her up, only to encounter Scott and Jean. The group fully understand the dangers of being a mutant lingering out and about. But they believe as long as they were together, they'll be alright.

"We'll be fine promise! We're just gonna get some grub probably hang around the park a bit and then shop for an early surprise present for Jubilee." Kitty chuckles at Scotts worriedness the group of teens, they had train for situations in case they get into trouble. They just need a break from the school for a bit and explore the world and experience the joys of being a teenager.

"Right ve promise!" Kurt joins in.

"I'll look after them Scott don't worry; we'll be back before midnight! I swear." Read was always trying to be the older sister of the group and the adults found that precious. Scott looks at her with soften eyes.

Scott looks hesitant but then Jean lays a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sure they'll be fine Scott beside I'm sure the grownups need a break from the kids anyway. Let them go out." Scott looker over his shoulder and sighs in defeat.

"Fine. Reader."

She straightens up.

"Be safe."

And with that the group leaves the mansion for their outing. A couple of miles away from their home and going straight into town. Kurt walking on readers left side and Pietro and Kitty walking on her right.

"Vhet should we get for our friend?"

"Don't know maybe a necklace? Oh! or earrings!"

"You guys think too much. Just get her favorite song on a cd and call it a day."

"You're only saying that cause you never think. it's got to be meaningful dumbass."

Unaware of their surrounds the group was peaceful walking about in town. Laughing and joking around such as normal teenagers do.

but

A smoke grenade lands in front of the group, WOSH it sets of, and the kids were choking on the smoke. Kurt kneeling down waving his hands in the air trying to push the smoke away, kitty and Pietro were blinds and where also coughing. Reader the only on left standing was struggling to make out the attacker.

"Mutant brats"

Readers vision begins to blur, and then turn dark.

Reader wake up again in a strange room chained in a circle with Kurt, Kitty, and Pietro.

"Reader! Your awake! Thank goodness." Kitty with tears in her eyes.

"Where are we?"

Pietro growls, "Thats what I wanna know." Furious that they got caught and he couldn't do a thing about it.

"Are we?" Questioning if any of them had attempted to use their gifts to escape.

"Unable to use our powers I'm afraid so my friend."

Reader looks down in guilt, "I'm sorry guys this is my fault, I should of been more aware.."

"What? There was no what you could of know this would happened. Don't be so hard on yourself." Pietro looks over at her calming his attitude to try and make the situation better for his friends.

"They'll come guys don’t worry!" Kitty trying her best to lighten the mood.

"I'm afraid not this time kitty."

A strange man in a lab coat appears Infront of them.

"And I'm gonna make sure of that."

"Vho are you sir?" Kurt curiously asks but something about this man seemed off this thought sent shivers down some of the group's spines.

"Nothing to concern yourself with mutt. You won't live long enough to remember it."

Kurt eyes widen in fear and shock. Reader moves closer to him moving her body in front of his. Shielding him from the intruder.

"The x-men will stop you."

"I highly doubt it. But don't you baby mutants spawns worry, they'll be joining you soon."

Reader chuckles at the man. "Keep dreaming."

A blow to the head sent her on the floor.

"READER!"

Blood trailed down her mouth as she struggles to sit up only to be kick back down again.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!"

"BASTARD!" As soon as Pietro commented that last part the unknown man pulls out a blade about to charge at him who was defenseless reader bolts towards their direction and takes the hit. Readers blood spills more onto the ground. Kitty screamed in terror, Kurt froze in fear, Pietro stood in shock.

"R-Reader..."

Collapsing in front of him struggling to get back up. The only thought running through her mind was to protect her friends no matter what.

"Pathetic. Just like your so-called x-men, saving life's all for nothing and taking in mutants. To what? Treat them like family. Disgusting."

With hatred in the hearts for this man run filled like crazy but reader bolding stands up.

"S-so what?"

Reader stuggles to sit up completely unfazed of the attack no matter how badly her body is damaged. That sentence alone started a spark to keep the group going.

"Thats w-what we do! You got a problem with it!? X-men put their lives on the line every day! Bitch and groan all you want! You don't got the power to change a thing!"

Unknown man sits still in silents and them maliciously smirks and them kicks the reader on the side where her wound was.

"Your gonna die anyway why waste your breath. This room is reequipped with a machine that will incinerate you lot. And don't even think of using your so-called mutant powers, this room was made with sentinel technology so don't even think about."

They were powerless.

"You have a minute."

The man leaves with a grim expression.

Kitty panics and rattles the chains, Kurt does his best to break it, Pietro struggles to move towards reader grabbing her and pulling in towards the group reader holding onto her wound putting pressure on it. Blood was dripping all down her body.

"W-what do we do!"

"Our Vates are in god's hands now my vhriend."

Holding her hand as she begins to break down in tears. both reach towards reader and Pietro who were also holding hands.

"Stay strong... Kitty." Reader struggles to breath.

"Reader..."

"We're not gonna go out cryin." Hope light in the readers eyes.

Kitty looks over at her who was struggling to sit up straight but was still standing strong that alone gave kitty the encouragement she needed, "R-right. RIGHT! X-MEN NEVER GIVES UP THE FIGHT!"

Pietro nods and also shouts. "Thats right. We're going to show that bastard a bond that can never be broken!"

"I vhill cherish our bonds my Vhiends. No. My family. I love you all of you."

As the four where all held each other together the fear immediately vanishes. As the room shakes and rumbles the sounds of a machine above the ground was held over them begin to glow. They must of guessed it was the one the stranger was talking about.

Reader held them in a group hug all with smiles on their faces..

"We're going home everyone. Back home to our family."

In a blast of light everything exploded and nothing was left.

BACK AT THE MANSION

The x-men all gathered in the war room frantic on the kid's disappearance. Scott and Jean worries came back again when they did not show up for their classes as did Jubilee who had not seen any of her friends. Mystique concerned for her son's well being, her daughter rogue flies all over town to search for them. Magneto confronting Charles on his carelessness for the safety of his children especially Pietro his son and reader who he had grown fond of.

Hank searches with all of his technology. Nothing came to aid.

Logan rampages through the streets and the mansion to find more clues. He had assumed some mutant hating freak got to them.

Gambit did his best to search deep undercover through all the bars to pick up tips on some missing mutant kids. Nothing.

Now they regather in the war room.

"This is your fault summers!"

"Yelling at me won't find them Logan!"

Rogue goes between the two. "Fighting with one another wont help either sugars."

"She's right they have to be out there somewhere we just have to look harder!" Jean intervenes. This was all her fault. She had insisted they go. They never should of left.

"Charles?!" Erik holding onto him. Charles head his head in pain.

As sharp pain goes through the professor's head. He saw the unknown man that had taken the kids hostage. He scans throughout his memories and saw the most recent one.

Recent.

He saw a vivid images of blood. Readers blood. And then later a bright light. Explosion that contain Kurt, Kitty, Pietro and Reader.

Refuses to belief it he tries again and to reach out to any of the children. Nothing there was nothing. If he could not reach them then that could only mean.

"NO!"

Charles shouts in anguish and despair. "MY CHILDREN MY POOR CHILDREN!"

The last image he saw was all of them holding each other in their arms embracing one another with blood soaking their clothes and smiles on their faces. Perhaps hoping for them to come for them. They never did.

"Charles?! What had happened?" Mystique ask.

Charles weeps quietly but Erik answers for him. With a menace look on his face as he stares at the group. He had realize what Charles had saw. Knowing his old friend all too well that could only mean one thing. His son... reader.... kurt and kitty. All dead.

"They are gone."

This alone silent the room.

"They have spilled blood of our children, and we must avenge them." Magneto never like the human he only tolerated them for his children's sake and for Charles but after this. He will show no mercy.

"I agree." Charles says in a shaken voice. "They must pay. Taking the life's of children of the innocent will not go unpunished." He always wanted a relationship between mutants and humans but to take the life of children he had help raised as his own. Children who could do no harm. A darkness stirred within him.

X-men stood in silence, but understood what they must do. Storming out the mansion they now go out on a man hunt to hunt down the unknown man that had kill their kids. Along with those who were involved and those who stood by and watched.

7 Years later

Amongst the rumbles of the abandon building, a sudden movement causes accouple of rocks to move. A hand emerges.

"AH!"

Kitty pushes the scattered building parts of her. Coughing out the dust as she catches her breath. Kurt and Pietro also emerge gasping for air.

"Everyone alright?"

"Reader!"

Kurt pushing the rumbles aside and digging reader out of the pile. Pulling her to surface.

"Is she?"

Kurt checks, "Alive. And breathing. But how did we survive. No should of live after such."

"Defiantly." Pietro agrees but notices a small light on his outer skin glowing the same as kitty and Kurt. This familiar sensation, it feels like reader. They would know because every time one of them were injured she would offer to heal them despite over working herself.

"Did she?" Kitty questions in shock at the realization.

"She must have put barriers on us when the explosion hit. But the question is how?"

"Indeed" Kurt agrees as he held reader's unconscious body. Struggling to wake her up.

Kitty moves near him and help shakes her. "Reader... come on! Please wake up!' Tears weld in her eyes praying in her mind that her friend will wake.

Pietro looks down in shake as he looks down his hand that was stained in blood. He knew it was his fault for her injuries, but why would she do such a thing and risk her life. Just why.

Where are we anyway...

NEXT CHAPTER

After the 7-year leap reader, Kurt, kitty, and Pietro never aged they remain 14 since the reader's shield held them in for over 7 year unable to age. But unfortunately, everyone they had loved had.

MY Thanks to @honey-minded-hivemind for letting me write this hope you enjoyed. Stay tuned for more!

[milla984]

It's the Great Pumpkin, Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer and Reader get to spend some quality time together on Halloween

Pairing: virgin!Spencer Reid x fem!reader, virgin!Spencer Reid x plus size Reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: heavy kissing, handjob, fingering, brief mention of an anxiety attack, body image insecurities (both parts)

Word Count: 5.4k

This work is part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

“I am officially traumatized,” Penelope blurted out when the end credits rolled on the screen, “remind me to never watch another Halloween movie with you, guys!!”

You could almost hear Spencer squeak in disbelief. “What?! This is a classic!”

She stood up to adjust her skirt, the one with jack-o’-lanterns and spiderwebs arranged in a casual pattern all over the dark fabric, and the bats standing on top of her fuzzy headband wiggled in different directions. 

“Uh–uh, La Dolce Vita is a classic. This is what goes on in the twisted mind of someone who desperately needed a hug and a large cup of hot cocoa with a ton of whipped cream and sprinkles as a child.”

You smiled as you finished loading the dishwasher, amused by the discussion unfolding in your living room; in your heart you were the greatest admirer of Spencer’s ability to conjure up any kind of random information on the spot but the exact moment you saw him open his mouth you knew he was about to make the situation worse.

“In fact, Barker’s grandmother had a fascination with the macabre. She would often tell gruesome stories which she presented as true tales so he grew up with the fear of being murdered in his own house.” 

Garcia gawked and raised a hand in his direction, simultaneously turning your way. “See?! Forgive me if I don’t think that having my entire body ripped apart by giant hooks is the ultimate frontier of pleasure!”

“And I’ll never look at a puzzle box the same way! What if it’s a brain teaser from Hell and there’s one of those chattering monsters inside?” she added and you had to hold back your laughter because Spencer’s perplexed frown was probably one of the cutest and funniest things in the whole world.

The mustache glued to his upper lip and the cravat he wore over a white shirt and black vest were only adding to it so you forced yourself to remain serious. “I’m sorry… pizza and a movie from my dvd collection were all I had to offer on such short notice,” you said, to which she replied by shaking her long, wavy hair.

“Oh no, sweet pea! You did great, I’m just too attached to the illusion that life is a rainbow to be into the traditional Halloween gore,” she sighed and wrapped herself in a colorful poncho. “Hey, Raven Man! Ready to leave?”

Spencer squirmed: an IQ of 187 and still he was unable to come up with a semi-plausible lie when it came to hiding the truth from his friends. Feeling the weight of her curious stare he swallowed nervously.

“I was kind of considering the possibility of going to the midnight screening of Nosferatu, at the Silver Theatre. It’s the 100th anniversary so the Silent Orchestra will play the entire score live, have you ever heard of them? They use contemporary musical idioms to convey the art of pre-talkies films to modern audiences, they’ve been widely acclaimed for their work.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “Midnight screening, huh?! Which means you don’t need a ride home… what a coincidence,” she teased, leaning forward to squeeze you in a passionate hug. “I knew it! I saw it the minute I walked in!”

This time was your turn to shrug with a puzzled expression: Reid and Garcia should have been on the opposite side of D.C. for a relaxed dinner at the Morgans’ after a thorough raid of all the neighborhood porches. However, Derek had called just as they were getting in the car to inform them that Hank got unexpectedly sick and forty-five minutes later All Hallows’ Eve enthusiast Reid (dressed up as Edgar Allan Poe) plus a very concerned Penelope had showed up at your apartment, making you wonder why on earth wasn’t she already busy baking since she kept repeating chickenpox called for the best pumpkin pie ever.

“Well, there goes our plan to keep a low profile,” you groaned as you closed the door behind her, and Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“How…?! Is this what they call ‘female intuition’?”

“Call it whatever you want but I’m glad she’s not mad we didn’t tell her right away,” you replied, proceeding to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “and I can think of another person who’s probably very happy for you, now.”

Spencer got rid of the fake mustache with a pensive stare. When it finally dawned on him that Garcia’s phone buzzing during your impromptu horror-themed movie night had in fact started out as live updates on their godson’s health and most likely turned into a gossip session about you two as a couple he squinted.

“I almost bailed on going trick-or-treating with them. I didn’t because I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, but I also wanted to see you. It’s our first Halloween.”

You nodded. “Maybe we can still get tickets for Nosferatu. You’re a terrible liar, so I’m sure there really is a midnight screening at the Silver Theatre.”

Spencer stared at you, entranced, then pulled you closer and in a heartbeat your lips met his - a sweet caress, tender and soft, your breaths entwined and your noses rubbing against each other in delicate strokes. You gave him a gentle push and he plopped down on the couch as you placed one knee on either side of his legs to straddle him; one of his hands sneaked behind you, exploring you as if he was trying to blindly map your whole back. 

You felt his other hand on your waist, hesitant. 

Three months had passed since the day you both came to the conclusion you were not “just friends” - three months made of late night phone calls from six different States, of handwritten silly notes you hid in his leather bag each time you drove him to the airport to catch a flight for Houston, three months of you hoping things would eventually move past the PG rated phase.

Three months of your self-consciousness sowing the seed of doubt in your heart, encouraged by the notion of whom he got to share his workspace with: you were no Emily or JJ and even if Spencer wasn’t the type to pay attention to details he frequently referred to as ‘trivial’ you were growing less and less confident.

“It’s fine, you can touch me,” you whispered, guiding his palm to cup your breast. They were pretty difficult to ignore, nevertheless he always seemed to steer away from them as much as he could.

You ran your fingers through his hair until you grabbed a small chunk of his curls; Spencer gasped for air and you brushed your tongue over his lower lip, letting out a muffled moan when the heat between your legs became almost unbearable. You started grinding on his lap to adjust tightly against his body.

“Wait…” he whined, squirming under you.

A second moan escaped from your throat while the pressure of his stiff cock hit your thigh but he shoved you away to free himself and spring to his feet, shaking heavily as if he was experiencing a full blown anxiety attack. 

His cheeks were flustered and his hair stuck to his dampened forehead so that he couldn’t even look at you straight - which gave him the perfect excuse to avoid doing it altogether. “I– I’m sorry…”

“No, no, I am…” you muttered, because the guilt building up in your chest felt so heavy you find it difficult to breathe.

Spencer was standing there, fumbling nervously with the cravat around his neck; his body language was screaming discomfort and he was clearly thinking of an excuse to remove himself from the situation. It was then that the hidden and irrational side of you, the one that desperately feared he would have disappeared forever if you’d let him go, kicked in and a rush of adrenaline came running down your spine.

“Please…” you continued, placing a hand over his, “it’s okay, really… there’s no way to control it, you should know better than anyone—”

“Why? Because I’m a man and men are supposed to have zero impulse regulation?!”

The embarrassment and shame in his voice broke you: you had sworn a thousand times in your mind to do your best to be his solace, yet now it seemed you were hurting him like no-one had ever done before.

“No,” you replied, “because you’re the genius, here, and you should know it’s a perfectly healthy and natural reaction.”

He huffed, visibly irritated at what he must have perceived as a patronizing tone. A different sort of emotion crawled under your skin, sparked by the amount of tension stagnating in the air.

You offered him a cushion and glanced at him with your usual no-nonsense attitude. “Sit down, so we can have a proper conversation? You know, like… functioning adults.”

Spencer pouted for a second, evaluating numbers and statistics about two years and a half’s worth of interactions. The truth was, intellectual affinity was such a familiar concept for the two of you that talking your way through an issue was indeed a synonym for a positive outcome. 

He grabbed the cushion and held it onto his stomach to shield himself from your gaze, though it was purposely focused on his face; you thought it was best to put some distance between your bodies when he sat on the couch again so you folded your legs underneath you, shivering like a cold draft had found its way inside the room.

“Listen, we can both agree this is not your regular, everyday casual topic of conversation… which is why we’ve never discussed premarital sex—”

“I’m not against it,” Spencer rushed to declare, “I’ve assumed it was the same for—”

“Sure, no! Ditto,” you confirmed.

His furrowed brows relaxed while his mouth curved in a timid smile. “Did you know that every person’s intimate relationships follow a script that has been written according to their own individual attitude towards all –uhm, sexual experiences?”

“I did not,” you admitted, and Spencer’s hands started dancing to the sound of his own words. 

“There are sets of guidelines for appropriate behavior, each partner in consensual encounters acts as if they are an actor following a script rather than acting on impulse alone. Researches indicate that women are more likely to initiate contact in well established relationships, negotiating sexual activity in developing relationships can be difficult 'cause both parts have multiple goals to deal with, such as providing relational definitions or following specific standards or morals.”

“Yeah, speaking about relationships… I think we’ve been in one since Christmas, we were just too dumb to say it out loud. And to each other,” you explained. “Sounds like a well-established to me but what’s your take on us?”

He curled into himself. “Every time we’re together I know there’s no other place I’d rather be. I’ve never even imagined it could be possible, I want to feel you even closer… and I’m so afraid I’m forcing this on you—”

“You’re not, I want it too,” you reassured him, “but to be honest I was starting to worry you were not into… me.”

Spencer’s beautiful eyes roamed over you and what you could see was all but repulsion. “Actually it’s the complete opposite.”

“So, what if my script says I’m ready to take things further?” you inquired, inching towards him to tug at the cravat of his costume. 

Spencer cupped your face and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Mine is on the same page,” he whispered.

Your fingers immediately went to the vest he was wearing and trailed the line of buttons in a slow movement; you undid them one by one, the hems eventually coming apart to reveal the white shirt underneath.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” you purred while you loosened the cravat to uncover his Adam’s apple. The way his muscles tensed as it bobbed up and down drove you crazy, so you teased him with the tip of your tongue - your lips grazing over the short stubble. 

Damn him and his impeccable bone structure: the scruffy look suited him so well it always sparked in you the urge to pin him to a wall and sink your teeth into his tender flesh. You loved how he could sport a smooth, professional style when the situation required it still wasn’t concerned with shaving each morning, almost as if it was an impractical activity which took energy away from whatever he considered to be a priority at that moment. 

You heard something flop on the floor and stopped your ministrations: the cushion he’d been holding over his stomach wasn’t there anymore, meaning you got to notice his trousers were becoming increasingly tight.

You squeezed his knee to make sure he was prepared for a more intimate contact then you slid it even further on his leg, giving him a couple of minutes to adjust to your gentle strokes before you felt confident enough to move the action to his inner thigh.

Spencer gasped, surprised rather than shocked or disturbed by how close you were now to where he was aching, and he leaned back to ease the pressure of the fabric but kept his eyes on you. 

He gave a silent nod in response to your interrogative stare, so you finally traced the outline of his hard cock between your thumb and index.

He jolted this time and muttered under his breath, a deep rasp in his voice you didn’t expect: you were unprepared to hear your name spoken as it was the quintessence of pure desire and you quivered, the throbbing in your ears rolling to your core.

You kissed his temple as you pointed at the waistband of his trousers. “Can I…?”

“Y– yes…” he muttered.

His clothes didn’t have any space left to accommodate his bulge. You palmed over it and felt an impatient twitch, which nearly had Spencer cursing; it was becoming torture for him so you reached for the zipper. 

For a split second the historical inaccuracy of a Victorian era costume featuring a device first introduced years after Edgar Allan Poe’s death hit you - a remark Reid himself would have been very appreciative of, which showed how much you could relate to the way his brain worked. Then you shook out of it and peeled his slacks open.

You crumpled the shirt over his stomach and marveled at the sight of his soft belly, the flawless navel, the dark fuzz pointing directly to his raging erection. With a cautious approach you freed it from any restraint, chewing on your lower lip as you often did when you were entirely focused on a challenging task. 

You couldn’t exactly say you had many options in your mind to compare him to but you had done a lot of fantasizing: now that he was in front of you, undressed and defenseless, you were downright mesmerized by—

“What’s wrong?!” Spencer screeched, interrupting your train of thought. “Is it odd? Does it look odd?!”

You shook your head, taken aback. “... odd?! No, why?!” you asked. “It’s just…” you petted the roundness to demonstrate, “I like your tummy so much.”

The way it pressed against his belt whenever he sat next to you on your couch or his was overly inviting and in the past weeks you had to fight the temptation to sneak a hand inside his shirt to squish it, because you didn’t know how he would’ve reacted. 

“Really?!” he marveled, confirming he wasn’t even aware you had a thing for soft tummies. His soft tummy, to be specific.

You smiled and leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. “Are you okay with me doing this?”

Spencer nodded, his eyelids half-closed, so you let your fingertips follow the trail of hair below his belly button; his hardness twitched again when you got near, then you wrapped your hand around it. 

You both moaned in unison, a harmony of pleasure that filled the silence of your living room. You moved along his entire length, feeling the satiny skin sliding over the shaft, and he threw his hair back in a movement that left his jugular exposed: his neck was too inviting and you sucked on it, the groans vibrating in his throat reverberating on your lips.

You gripped tighter when he got used to your caresses. As soon as his muffled whimpers seemed to increase in frequency you circled your thumb over the tip, spreading his leaking precum over the sensitive head. Spencer was at loss for words, a good indication that he was definitely enjoying the moment.

You were enjoying it too; you started to rub your legs together, your imagination running wild and picturing all sorts of scenarios. The mere thought of having him inside of you made you want to touch yourself but you resisted: Spencer was undoubtedly new to this and deserved someone in his life to love him and shower him with attention, so you decided to put his release before your own.

When you twisted your hand at the base of his cock he jumped, missing the bridge of your nose by a few inches.

“Too much?!” you cooed, and he seemed to come out of a sort of drunken stupor.

“No, no… it’s good, I like it…”

You sighed. “Spence, you have to tell me if—”

“It’s really good,” he replied, the urgency sensible in his tone. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded, low-key ashamed of how needy he’d sounded.

You pecked him on the nose as a reassurance you accepted and cherished this version of him: he wasn’t the kind of man to be interested in the crude physical aspect of sex, he’d made it clear. He wasn’t desperate for just anyone to satisfy him - he trusted you to do it, because he knew you were safe in each other’s arms.

You shifted to adjust at his side and returned to your previous occupation; you let your other hand wander over his thigh as a forewarning, then you sheepishly cupped his balls so you could provide additional stimulation and send him over the edge.

He bucked his hips, a loud “Oh, God!!!” escaping from his mouth before he grasped a fistful of your hair. He was hungry for you, his tongue sliding lustfully against yours and his breathing so ragged you were sure he was getting close. 

Kissing him was your drug of choice but you also wanted to watch him come undone, thanks to you, so you turned your head while he tensed: he arched his back and bucked his hips once more, nipping at your earlobe. He became harder as he spilled himself over your fingers, wrist and his own stomach with a feral growl.

You didn’t let go of him, not even when his whole body finally slumped down.

The well-defined jaw and unruly curls falling on his face, now so serene, made him appear like a Botticellian masterpiece. Botticelli would have never painted one of his subjects in such a disheveled state, for sure, but the contrast between his angelic aura and the fact he was sprawled on the couch with his trousers unzipped and his softening cock still in your hand was a vision to behold.

“Hey,” you hummed as he re-opened his eyes and found you looking at him, “you’re too cute to be real, you know that?!”

Embarrassed - yet adorably proud - Spencer lowered his gaze, only to grimace at the stickiness on his belly. And on you. “I made a mess, I’m s—”

“We made a mess. Besides, it’s nothing a towel can’t fix, don’t be sorry,” you said, patting his tummy.

You were almost tempted to ask him how long he’d been saving it for, in a clumsy attempt to remind him you’d fallen so head over heels for him you were not at all grossed out; at the last moment you ruled the joke out, though, stretching your legs to get up instead. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

He flashed you the most awkward smile and you forced your feet to move towards the bathroom. 

You washed your hands under the hot running water and silently watched a part of Spencer swirling down the drain; the floral scent of the soap was now in the air but you could still feel his - coffee and cologne, accentuated by the faint traces of sweat on his skin. 

You had just discovered something new: Spencer was often oblivious of how good he looked (despite the dark circles under his eyes) and that was no mystery, but the idea he might have been insecure about different parts of his body was something you’d never taken into account. If being a couple was the natural consequence of the emotional bond between you - rather than a result of some physical infatuation alone - why was he so preoccupied with your reaction to his half-naked self?

Your brain was going in severe overdrive. 

You inhaled and exhaled a couple of times, your fingers gripping on the honed marble of the countertop, then you dried your hands with a towel, grabbed a fresh one and returned to the living room; the instant you approached your couch you realized Spencer had been doing a lot of thinking of his own, and your heart sank into your stomach.

“Wunderkind, are you alright?” you questioned as you offered him the towel so that he could clean himself up. “What’s going on in here?” you added, tapping lightly on his temple.

He shrugged and proceeded to meticulously remove any trace of his seed from his belly and clothes before tucking the shirt into the waistband of his trousers. “Nothing special.”

His left eyebrow raised, due to an involuntary movement of his facial muscles: it was a flash, a glimpse, the undeniable proof he was hiding something. The sound of your intrusive thoughts and fears got so loud you wanted to scream to cover their noise.

“Your microexpressions say otherwise,” you retorted.

Spencer lifted his head to meet your eyes, mouth agape, and you couldn’t decipher the meaning of such a bewildered reaction. You had always been able to recognize his lying frown, his anxious smile, the suspicious squint and a hundred more variations: you were not a member of the BAU but you were an expert on detecting and classifying his emotions, yet you’d never seen that one before. 

“It’s… uhm, I’m wondering if it was good for you.”

Your heart leaped and bounced back where it belonged. His job required him to be the one calling people out on their behavior, not the other way round; your presence in his life forced him to face a situation in which his skills as a profiler couldn’t shield him from his own vulnerability, so he was in serious need of some consolation.

You bent over to whisper in his ear. “It was.”

“But you didn’t...” he nervously licked his lips, “and I want you to. Just tell me how.”

In the back of your mind you were 100% sure it would have been the right moment to confess you’d been harboring a few insecurities of your own but your fight-flight-freeze response was already answering on your behalf, making you freeze on the spot.

“Spencer…”

“You don’t think I can?!” he inquired, still convinced his lack of experience was the motivation behind any episode of miscommunication. 

“NO! It’s not about you,” you responded in a hurry, hugging him as he was still seated on the couch. “Or maybe it is… ” you gestured to your whole figure, “I guess I’m a bit worried this isn’t what—”

Spencer wrapped you in an equally sweet hug, his chin dimple pressed on your abdomen. “This is soft,” his hands ran to the back of your knees, trailing up, “it’s so soft I’ve got only one thing in mind every time you hug me and I have to stop myself…”

He stopped talking mid-sentence when you guided his palms over your chest and he finally laughed, fascinated by the feeling of your breasts through the shirt.

If he was so happy at the idea you were starving for his touch and was clearly eager to reciprocate it was time to consider the strong possibility he wasn’t just settling for less. “Do you really—”

“Yes!” he replied, enthusiastically. “But I could use a few hints, you know.”

You knew. “May I sit on your lap, kind sir?”

The ‘are you even serious?’ pout on his face deserved an award; now you were both allowed to act silly without the slightest concern one of you was making fun of the other, high on the intoxicating concept of true intimacy.

You positioned yourself so that you were seated on his groin, your back flat on his chest and your head nestled in the crook of his neck, thanking Mother Nature for the existence of refractory periods. Not that it was necessary, but Spencer hooked his left forearm around your waist to secure you as his tongue glided over the soft skin behind your ear. “How do I start?”

“Step one: make some space,” you tipped him.

He gulped loudly and began to caress your knee, ghosting his fingers along the thigh-bone. You shivered in anticipation and when he tried to reach for your inner thigh you spread your legs apart; he flattened his palm, gripping on your muscles and rubbing back and forth - still keeping some distance from your most delicate spots. 

You turned to offer him your lips. “Tease me… up and down, light touches.”

He did as he was told. When he ran the back of his hand over your mound you whimpered, the oversensitivity being too much to bear combined with the mind-blowing taste of his mouth over yours.

“Isn’t it frustrating for you?” he managed to articulate in between kisses and you rocked your hips against him.

You could already feel the familiar and insistent throbbing, accentuated by the fact that delayed gratification was a real pain; you were dying for him to placate the fire his hard cock had sparked in you, so you grabbed his wrist and guided it over your stomach, down the front of your panties.

He gasped at the feeling of your tender flesh, the curly hair, the dampness - too many sensory inputs to process all at once. “You’re so… warm?”

“Core body temperature is higher than the temperature of the skin,” you reminded him. 

“So warm,” he kept repeating, basic biology facts lost on him because his brain seemed to have switched off. 

His palm grazed over your folds and your legs fell further open to give him better access; you stroked his left forearm and tilted your head back. “Only two fingers now, Spence… up and down. But don’t go straight for—”

You tensed when his fingertips danced on your clit and he gripped you even tighter. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but the sensation was so good you could only smile.

“If you plan to go there it’s left and right. And draw a few circles around, big and small...” you explained before words turned into muffled moans as he put your suggestions into actions.

You were still grinding on his lap, your back glued to his chest, and he took advantage of the proximity to trap your earlobe between his teeth, sucking lightly at each change of the pattern he was tracing.

You squeezed his wrist when the flame inside of you grew fiercer. “You can slip your finger in if you want.”

Spencer let go of your earlobe and paused. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for weeks,” you admitted, the weight of your secret vanishing in the air like a puff of smoke.

He sighed and shifted underneath you; just as you were ready to tell him he didn’t have to if he wasn’t comfortable with the idea he slid his middle finger past your entrance and you shuddered in his embrace. His hands were elegant, veiny, and his slender digits made for playing piano or reaching your hidden crevices - you had no doubts about it, but judging by how he was sitting still he had more than one question regarding what to do with them.

“How do I feel? Spence...?”

Even if you couldn’t really see his face, you knew he had a confused-slash-excited look on. “Hot… and wet, I never thought—”  

“You like it?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?!” he asked in the cutest high-pitched tone and you laughed, making you both wince at the sudden movement. 

All the words in any existent language put together couldn’t describe the amount of affection you had for him. “I like it, Spence,” you hummed, “and it would be even better if you tried curling your fin— FUCK!” 

Spencer wasn’t one to waste time once he was given a specific instruction.

He pushed his finger forward and curled it as you said, gliding in and out to slowly familiarize himself with the different textures of your inner walls. He adopted a very empirical approach, experimenting several techniques based on what he’d learned not so long before, while you whimpered and moaned his name; he was moaning, too, and so prettily you couldn’t control yourself.

“Spence, I need more…” 

He nipped at your jaw, his long hair tickling your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, I promise”, you panted, almost out of breath.

When he slipped a second finger in you realized that his arm wrapped around your waist was the only thing still keeping you in place: your legs were giving up on you, your hips swayed to let Spencer’s fingers plunge deeper as your back arched and your fists closed around his clothes. He was pumping relentlessly, overwhelmed by your wetness and the way you were taking him inside like he was a missing part of your own body; he tried to reach for your mouth and you turned to grasp the nape of his neck.

“Your hands are perfect,” you whined, “you are perfect…”

He huffed, his heart pounding fast. “Are you…?”

“Please... make me come, Spence,” you begged him in a whisper.

He pressed his thumb on your clit and started alternating between rough circling motions and the upward movement of his fingers, as you bucked your hips at a frantic pace; your thighs muscles contracted, you clenched around him and you ears plugged as you climaxed - something that had never happened to you before.

You tugged at his hair and screamed his name, before settling against his body once the tension faded. 

He kept his fingers inside and he cuddled you throughout the aftermath of your orgasm, planting butterfly kisses wherever his mouth could reach and cradling you like his only mission in life was making you feel safe and protected. 

Your self-consciousness awoke first, despite the rush of feel-good hormones flowing in your bloodstream.

“Am I crushing you…?” you mumbled, and he grunted as you wriggled free to lean forward and pick up the towel from the floor. 

He stared at his wet fingers with a pensive frown, then he wiped them clean and turned to face you - now seated on the couch with your legs across his and your forearm rested on his shoulder, so that you could play with his curls. 

“Doctor, you deserve a gold star for your performance.”

He smiled and lowered his gaze for a second. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“You’re not bad at improvising, either,” you pointed out, “the thing you did with your thumb…?”

“I figured it was only a matter of combining the exact pressure and the right angle. Technically speaking—”

“Spencer?!” you cut him off, before he could lose himself in his own rambling. “Thank you,” you added, kissing him lightly on his lips before you stood up to fix your panties and trousers. “You can tell me all about the mechanics behind one of the best orgasms of my life on our way.”

“Nosferatu. First Halloween together…?” you elaborated when he looked at you in total confusion. “You’ve changed your mind.”

He shifted on the couch, his hazel eyes fixed on you. “Is that okay?”

This time you looked at him with your best ‘is ice cream cold?’ frown: you wanted to spend eternity with him, not just an hour or two more. You climbed into his lap and tangled your fingers in his hair while he cupped your breasts.

“What if I get…? I mean... again?!”

“Well, it’s not going to happen right now, Professor!!" you snorted, and his giggle sounded like celestial music. "But don’t worry, we’ve got the whole night."

NB: I'm not using my regular taglist for Spencer Reid smut fics but I'm obviously tagging only the users who sent a request. If you wish to be added you can send me an ask or leave a comment below with the request to be added.

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 17 - Lavender 2

Okay. So this is part 2 of Shanks and his visit to your island. Mihawk's reaction will be out when I finish up with some editing! Peppermint Tea has become waayyyyy bigger than I ever thought it could be. Very proud honestly since this is definitely my biggest work so far.

Anyway! I hope you enjoy! Plot stuff happens and Shanks is a big flirt.

Warnings! Some drinking and Shanks is a flirt.

Masterlist

Shanks and his crew stay on your island for an entire week. You are properly introduced to his entire crew and find that while far more rowdy than what you are used to, the Red-Haired Pirates were good people. They welcomed you with open arms, telling you all sorts of stories as booze and food flowed freely around. You avoided any foul-smelling liquid and declined Shanks’ offer of his sweeter drink called sake. You just didn’t feel comfortable drinking without Dracule with you.

Thankfully, the crew and their captain accepted your rejection with ease and supplied you with sweet juices that stained your lips a dark red. Shanks couldn’t keep his eyes away from you, gaze stuck on the way you licked your overly red lips of any leftover pomegranate juice. He watches you across the large bonfire that sits in the center of the circle, admiring the way the flames make your eyes glow in the night.

The captain drinks from his shallow bowl, enjoying the way the warm sake burns his throat. Hank whines beside him, and Shanks smirks down at the shaggy dog. The mutt had not left his side for almost his entire stay here, and it made him wonder if Hawkeye had a soft spot for the pup, too.

He frowns when he thinks of Dracule, and a curl of guilt throbs in his chest for half a second before he shoves it away. Shanks already knew that you would tell the warlord about his sudden visitation the moment Mihawk stepped on your island. He wasn't doing anything he wasn't supposed to do, only enjoying the company of a lovely, lonely young woman, but he remembered the way that his old friend had spoken about you.

Shanks certainly agreed with everything Mihawk said, but mostly, he remembered how his friend's voice had turned soft and affectionate for this mysterious woman. And then the fierce anger when Shanks poked fun at him. Mihawk cared about you unlike anything else in this wretched world, but Shanks was a greedy man, and he could tell that you had more than enough room in your heart for the both of them.

The Emperor shifts in the sand, reaching for his bottle of sake and pouring himself another cupful. He would never do anything to take you away from Dracule. He wasn't that kind of man. Especially when he heard you speak of his old friend earlier, carefully omitting his name in worry of getting Dracule in trouble with someone, but the way your cheeks lit up, and your expression turned to one of wonder spoke of how much you adored the older man.

“Whatcha thinking about, Captain. I can see the gears turning from here,” Beckman questions from where he sits on an empty crate near the redhead. The sharpshooter has been watching his Captain make eyes at you all night, and he wondered when Shanks was going to make his move. It wasn't like the other man to lollygag on something he wanted.

Shanks huffs at his friend, raising his occupied hand guilty, though he breaks and snickers, “You caught me, Benn.”

He finishes his sake and shakes any remaining liquid from it before setting it on top of the bottle, done with it for now.

“Remember when we ran into Hawkeye? About a year ago now?” Shanks asks and waits for Benn to nod before he continues, “He told me about a woman he met, said that she was something special. That's her.”

Beckman huffs to himself and then rolls his eyes, “Of course we'd somehow run into her. Not planning anything dumb are you, Shanks?”

The redhead glares at his first mate, pouting at the condescending way his name is spoken, “Hey. I'm not that much of a jerk,” he grumbles and then softens, calculating gaze landing back on you.

“But this place. You can't deny that it isn't peaceful, Benn. Different, almost out of a story book its so far removed from the rest of the world. I want to come back, I want to get to know her.”

His first mate raises a brow and drinks deeply from his bottle of rum. His captain was certainly a menace, but he also had a good point. There was something about this place that relaxed even his old bones, “What about Hawkeye?”

Shanks shrugs, “He can get over it. I'm not trying to steal her away, but _ seems lonely. I want to be her friend.”

Benn scoffs. Yeah, right. He knew how his Captain was. He fell hard and fast, and you obviously had his attention, “Sure, Captain. Just don't do anything stupid.”

Shanks stands and shoves at Benn's shoulder good-natured, “Yee of little faith, my friend. Now excuse me, the crew is singing my favorite song, and I want to dance with our host.”

The Emperor doesn't wait for his friend to respond. Instead, he is already sliding his way across the beach to stop beside you. You look up at him when his shadow eclipsed the roaring fire, a big grin on your face as you sway back and forth to the pirate shanty the crew slurred.

“Dance with me?” Shanks offers, and you take his hand with ease, laughing when the redhead pulls you to your feet so quickly that you collide with his chest. He basks in the coolness of your body for half a second, and then Shanks is pulling you away from your spot to follow the rest of his crew in the manic dance they had going around the fire.

Gather up all of the crew

It's time to ship out Bink's brew

Sea wind blows, to where, who knows

The waves will be out guide

Shanks twirls you around, easily keeping pace with you and the rest of the men as the song continues. You look radiant as you dance around, loose shouldered and free in a way you hadn't been when Sanks had first shown up. You laugh when Shanks loses his footing in the sand, grabbing him by the wrist to keep him from falling.

He takes this as an opportunity to pull you close to him, pressing you under his arm as his hand settles along the curve of your waist. He watches your face explode in a blush, but you aren't fighting him away, so Shanks counts that as a win.

O'er across the the oceans tide

Rays of sunshine far and wide

Birds they sing, of cheerful things

In circles passing by

A guilty look flashes over your face when the song comes to an end, and you are quick to pull away from Shanks. You remind yourself that while this man is nice and has been cheerful his entire stay, you didn't know him. He is still a stranger to you, but you wouldn't mind seeing him again. You have caught the redhead watching you, and the look in his chocolate eyes reminded you of your warlord early on in your relationship with him. It makes you nervous.

Mihawk flashes through your mind, and the guilt intensifies. Was it wrong to want to get to know Shanks when you already had Mihawk? Or was wanting more too selfish? You didn't know, and it ate you up inside at the thought.

“Everything okay, Doll?” Shanks asks when he sees you draw into yourself. Frost has crusted over on your exposed shoulders, and he follows after you when you escape from the crew and start back up the path to your home.

“I'm fine! Just going to the bathroom,” your voice is too high pitched for it to be truthful, so Shanks steps up his pace and reaches out to carefully curl his hand around your arm, stopping you in place.

“Hey, no. We were just having fun. What's going on?” The Emperor presses and walks around so that he can face you. Your eyes are teary, and the sight sends a shock of panic through his body, “Woah, what's wrong, Babygirl? Why ya crying?”

His concern just makes you feel worse about it all, and snow begins to fall, making it hard for you to see the man in front of you. His hand is warm on your arm, though, and you reluctantly lean into the hold.

“I don't know if it's a good idea for you to be my friend,” you blurt suddenly, and then quickly bite your lip from embarrassing yourself further.

Shanks cocks a brow at you, confusion evident on his face, “What do you mean?”

You shuffle in place. You have kept quiet about Dracule. You weren't sure why. Maybe you wanted to try and keep your warlord safe, but you couldn't lie anymore.

“You are a very nice man, Shanks, but I don't want you to get the wrong idea. The man I keep talking about, his name is Dracule Mihawk, and we are…a thing. He's told me about you, warned me about you really, called you a menace, but I could still hear how fond he was of you.” You are ranting, but Shanks is patient and waits it out. He could tell that you weren't done yet.

“I don't know your past, but I know that the two of you know each other, and I can't risk the happiness I have with Dracule. I know that the two of you haven't seen eye to eye in a long time, and I don't want to be another reason for any more tension.”

Shanks is silent for half a second before he bursts out laughing, doubling over and clutching his stomach in his glee. Oh, you sweet thing! You were worried about ruining the friendship he and Hawkeye shared. How precious you were!

“You are adorable, Babygirl,” Shanks crows and draws your shocked form close to him, shivering when his exposed chest meets your frozen nose, “Mihawk will huff and puff like a rooster, but in the end? He'll forgive you. I'll even go track him down myself and tell him what happened if you want me to?”

“What? No, no, you don't need to do all that,” you quickly deny and shove away from his chest to look up at him in panic. You needed to be the one to tell Mihawk, for you can imagine the ensuing fight that would most likely happen, “And how would you know Dracule won't be mad at me?”

Shanks gives you a smug grin and sniffs pretentiously, “Trust me, Sweetheart. I've known Hawkeye for a long time and heard the way he spoke about you. I can promise that he won't be too upset with you. Me? I'm a different story, but it's going to take a lot more than just getting to know you for the respect we have for one another to go away.”

You find yourself somewhat appeased by that. It was true that the two men have known one another far longer than you have, so it makes sense to you to take Shanks' word. You sigh heavily and nod, conceding.

“Alright, ugh. If you are sure, Shanks,” you grumble, but you feel much better about this than you did just a moment ago, and give the redhead a grateful smile.

“See, that's the spirit, Doll!” Shanks matches your grin, “Stop worrying that pretty head of yours and come back to the party, yeah?”

You roll your eyes at the redhead, but nod anyway, “Okay, just a little longer, and then I'm going to bed. You and your crew party too much for me.”

Shanks snickers at you and tugs you back down the footpath and back to the beach and his crew. He sits back near his sake, and you sit with him, content to watch the others have fun for now.

It's hours later that Shanks feels a weight thunk into his side. He looks over and sees that you have passed out, and the sight makes his heart only grow even more fond of you. He stands and then bends to scoop you up, difficult with one arm, but not impossible. He balances the now empty sake bottle and cup on your sleeping form and shuffles back up the path.

Hank follows after him, leading the way up to the cottage, and shoves the door open with a heavy paw. Shanks snickers and steps inside your home, following the shaggy dog to your bedroom. He stops short when he meets a pair of glaring golden eyes.

A big fluffy orange cat sits in the middle of the bed, the only occupant of the house that Shanks had yet to meet. He is careful of any wayward claws as he lays you down in the bed, sitting his empty sake bottle on the end table, then sitting down with a huff and a small smile when you groan in your sleep and roll to your side.

Shanks gazes at you with soft eyes, reaching forward to tuck a fallen strand of hair from your face with a sigh. You look lovely even in sleep, and the redhead aches to stay here with you, but then he would be bad, and you probably wouldn't want him around anymore.

The captain stands with a sigh, and pulls the blankets up to your chin, “Sleep well, Babygirl,” he murmurs and then he is gone, shutting the door of your home with a soft click. Shanks would make sure to come see you in the morning before he and his crew left.

@writingmysanity @kenkenmaaa @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar

[beaniebabyidiot]

Here is part 5 of me watching all the x-men movies in order with commentary from when I was texting my friend about it

fifth: dark phoenix

(ps i was told not to watch it but i made a commitment, I WILL watch all the x-men movies)

charles her parents just DIED and ur promoting ur school? i mean i know u want to help but give the girl time to process man

"it's a gift" SHE JUST KILLED HER PARENTS IDK IF SHE IS REALLY FEEING GIFTED

WHY IS HANK NORMAL AGAIN COME ON

oh nvm i guess he's blue again

mystique looks so much worse her wig and her makeup do not match what she looked like previously

why did kurt need a helmet and jean didn't? she is literally in the vacuum of space she should be dead rn

bro charles and raven are sooo out of character based on the previous movies, why did they just switch motivations and personalities???

oh hey dazzler!

i truly do belive that charles is trying to help jean and the other students, he just goes about it horribly

one thing i do like abt this movie is charles characterization, he comes off as really wanting to help and being a genuinely good person, he just can't admit his faults and SERIOUSLY messes up a lot

bro i know all of these actors can be good why are they acting so poorly?????

did the director just choose their worst takes??? like what??

so Jean is a God now?

girl i don't think they are afraid of u be ur so cool and powerful but because you killed a woman

WHOA SCOTT AND MAGNETO ARE SWEARING SO MUCH

HOW CAN THEY DO THAT

bro who are these side villains?? і gotta admit the guy with the dreads he can move is pretty cool but who is the girl lookin like negasonic teenage warhead???

THESE EFFECTS ARE SO WILD

WHATTTT IS HAPPENING

the effects of jean making him walk were so gross i literally had to fast forward a bit they look so bad and uncanny

i know that's kinda the point but i cantttttt

jean i wouldn't trust weird alien lady if i were u

yoo charles admits he's wrong for once in his life!! let's go!!!

i do love all the beast content in this movie

THAT WAS SO AWESOME

KURT JUST DROPPED HER IN FRONT OF A TRAIN

YES!!!

i know he seems all innocent but in these movies he was in the fighting rings

he has DEFINITELY killed someone before

i love him so much

overall this movie is bad but this fight scene is SICK

LIKE ERIK JUST CRUSHED A TRAIN CAR THATS SO COOL

"i had a change of heart" erik we all know you are just down bad for charles and you will do anything if he asks u really sincerely

you can't fool me

charles and jean are so father daughter core

i mean he's not a great dad but they sure have the dynamic

CHERIK COFFEE SHOP AU YEAHH

bro do u know what the name of that cafe is

the french says "vieux copains"

THAT LITERALLY TRANSLATES TO OLD FRIENDS

THEY ARE AT THE CAFE OF OLD FRIENDS

well that movie was... bad

there were some good parts

but overall it was not good

it wasn't even funny bad like origins wolverine

this movie was NOT funny and if i'm being honest i only watched it for that scene at the end cuz i saw gifs of it on here

[themultifandomgal]

Jay Halstead- Case Gone Wrong

It's been 2 weeks since YN's disappearance. 2 weeks since a case went wrong and YN was taken, tied up and beaten to an inch of her life. Everyone at intelligence has been working hard to find her, especially her boyfriend Jay and her dad Hank Voight

"Jay you need to go home, rest" Erin sighs at her partner

"I can't"

"I know your worried, so am I, but we won't help YN if we're tired"

"We won't help her if we're asleep either!" Jay yells, but Erin knows he's just tired, angry, upset, worried

"I think we may have a break through" Antonio says walking in with a woman "this is Mary she has something that could help us"

Voight and Antonio sit Mary down with a glass of water while the others stand behind the glass watching

"Tell him what you told me"

"Errm a couple of weeks ago I saw my neighbour take a young woman into his house. She was unconscious, she had a bandage on her head. So obviously I asked him if she was ok and he said that she fell and he was bringing her back from the hospital. I didn't think much of it. But this morning I watched him come home with more bandages"

"What did the girl look like?"

"Errm short dark blond hair, almost light brown. I didn't get a good look at her face, but she had a tattoo behind her ear" Voight and Antonio look at each other

"What was it?" Antonio asks

"It was a J I think"

"That's YN" Voight rubs his hand over his face

"We need an address"

Unbeknownst to YN, her PD family were on the way to save her while she was being tortured once again

"You nearly got me arrested. I thought you were my friend" Max, the guy they have been after for a year, says "thought we had something special. You know, after the trade I was going to ask you to be by my side permanently" YN doesn't speak, mainly because it hurts to open her mouth, but also because she has nothing to say to Max "now I think I'm going to have a little bit more fun with you, then I'll start cutting you up piece by piece, sent it to you dad, or maybe your boyfriend" Max grabs a knife stabbing it into her thigh, but she refuses to make any noise and give him the satisfaction.

Intelligence arrive in no time at all so when Max hears there's a bang upstairs, he looks at YN smiling. He places some tapes around YN's mouth, wrapping it around her head. He picks up his gun and leaves YN alone in the basement downstairs. All she can do is hope someone comes downstairs, but she knows that her dad and Jay will check every inch of this house.

Footsteps run down stairs, YN looks up to see Erin

"I got her!" Erin shouts running over to YN then sees the blood coming out of her thigh "I need an ambo at our location, stab wound victim loosing blood" Erin says into her radio after taking off her jacket and wrapping it tightly around her leg "guys I need help down here!" Erin yells again trying to untie the girl she classes as a sister "god YN your freezing" more footsteps are heard running down and over to YN

"Baby what did he do to you?" Jay exclaims before helping Erin

"He's wrapped the tape around her head. If we rip it off it will pull her hair out"

"Paramedics will have scissors, they can at least release her mouth" once Jay and Erin have YN untied, Jay picks his girlfriend up and takes her upstairs to wait for the ambo to arrive.

YN wakes up to Jay, Will and her dad in her hospital room

"Hey YN" Will softly says

"You want a drink?" Voight asks his daughter who slightly nods her head

"Here let me help you" Jay helps YN sit up a little so that her dad can direct the straw into YNs mouth. She takes a couple sips before laying back down. Jay moves some hair out of her face, she now noticed how tired both her boyfriend and dad look

"Have you slept?" YN asks quietly

"Not much. We were worried about you" Jay replies

"Do you remember what happened?" Will asks, YN gives him a nod "you had to have stitches in your leg"

"YN did he.. did he erm..." YN knows what Jay is trying to say

"No. Just hit me" Jay breaths a sigh of relief

"When can she leave?" Voight asks Will

"Well she can go home tomorrow as long as she's eaten and gone to the toilet. And she needs to have someone with her all the time for the next 2 weeks"

"Jay you can stay home with her, just have your phone on you"

"Got it"

"Now what do you say to trying to eat something?" Will asks. YN gives him a nod "ok. I'll be back in a bit" Will leaves the room

"Did you get Max?"

"Yeah we did"

"Good" YN smiles

"I'm going to head back to the precinct, I'll be back later" Voight says kissing his daughters forehead then leaving the room.

Jay stays with YN for the next 24 hours, even when Will and YN both tell him to go home.

[neyafromfrance95]

I think it's interesting that there are two Girl x Ghoul ships in the fandom rn: Lucy x Cooper and Rose x Moldaver (hopefully, the latter less tragic)

Also, what's the deal with evil first marriage partners: Barb, Hank, Monty, etc? Maybe that's why Norman never got married (joking here)

gosh, i hope that we get rose x moldaver flashbacks!

listen, the show makes framing choices and it's only the matter of whether they want to expand on those hints or will leave them as subtext.

and the way rose and moldaver looked at each other in those momentary flashbacks? the fact that moldaver refused to let go of zombified rose? holding her hand as she was dying? and also wanting lucy to realize that deep down she isn't vaultie?

that's some tragic sapphic shit there, my friend.

lucy x the ghoul might continue having multilayered subtext without the series explicitly defining their relationship in any way. we'll have to see.

i think the evil exes have to do with the disillusionment cooper and lucy experienced. their privilege and comfortable background blinded them to the darkness of the world and this unawareness came to bit them in the ass.

[faellain]

The Accidental Baby Trap Incident

Summary: About four years after the events of First Class, Erik arrives at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters with two little twins who he didn't know existed. Thinking he doesn't know what to do, he runs to Charles, not knowing the state his old friend is in.

Snippet 6

[prev] [next]

charles sighs as they wheel down the long walkway to the machine itself. the completed room is gorgeous, all metal panels with projectors ready to show the tour de force of charles xavier's telepathy. dust coated everything in the room.

"these are muscles i haven't stretched in some time," charles says somberly, picking up the helmet. gently, he blew the dust off. for a moment, his lips looked their correct shade, that brillaint natural almost-red. once, erik had insuated that charles' lips were a physical result of his mutation. that had made charles' laugh, wondering what telepathy would have to do with his lips.

raven had raised an eyebrow and replied, "why did my skin have to blue for me to shapeshift?"

charles settles the helmet onto his head. hank preps the machine, warning them before he turns it on. as it comes back to life, charles grimaces. erik quickly puts a hand to his shoulder, squeezing it trying to center him as the room is bathed in red and white. they had considered this- color coding the humans and mutants. his breath is caught in the beauty of it all as he watches charles try to locate sean, try to zoom into vietnam.

instead, the room starts spinning, charles unable to control the though. pained yells scrape their way out of his throat. all erik can do is move to hold both his shoulders, coming around the front. charles' shoulders shake beneath his palms.

"hank, turned the damn thing off!" he snaps.

just as hank comes alive, trying to do so, the power shorts out, plunging the room into darkness. charles all but throws the helmet to the ground, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. he's not well; erik doesn't need to be a telepath to know that.

"i-i'll go check the generators," hank murmurs before dashing off to do so.

charles runs his hands over his face, "this was a mistake."

"you said yourself you're out of practice," erik reminds him, "it wasn't cerebro that did that."

charles looks at him ruefully, tired and bitter. his hands shake again as he touches his forehead, "my power comes from here. from," his hand moves to his chest, but he abadons the words. a dispodant death resides in his tone as he sighs, "it's broken. i feel like one of my student's. helpless…"

erik moves to cup his cheek, thumbing at the skin there, letting his fingers trace over the scruffy beard. he finds he still truly hates it. perhaps it's the lack of familiarity to the clean-shaven scholar he had known when all this began.

"you're not," he says, "you've become scared of yourself. i know you. you can do this."

"it's too much," charles tries not to wheeze, still catching his breath, "we need to call your telepath."

"you are my telepath," erik replies, "emma is terrifying when she wants to be, but she is not you."

charles laughs bitterly, leaning back in his chair, "then she's good enough to work cerebro while i can't. i'm not jealous for heaven's sake. i just- i can't do this anymore. there's too much pain."

erik frowns. he knew that charles could know anyone's pain just by touching their mind. their history was an open book to him. he'd known erik's pain, his hurt. but he'd also brought back some of erik's happiness as well.

"let me take some," he offers, "you know my pain. let me have yours."

charles shakes his head, "no. god, no. you have enough pain-"

erik leans down and kisses charles' cheek, slowly, presses his nose against the side of charles' head, "which is why you know i can handle your's. give me your pain, charles. stop bearing it alone."

there is some hesitation, but charles opens his mind to him. everything is on his terms. that is the trouble with only one of them being telepathic. erik must trust that what charles is showing him is not just the truth, but that he withholds few things. but trusting charles has always been easy. no one else ever broke through his barriers. no one else could ever love him him.

and that is why the pain hurt so much.

erik knew there had been a stepfamily in charles and raven's lives, but he did not know they were cruel. their mother, already inattentive, started drinking. kurt marko was cruel. for all the house's beauty, each room had its own reminder of strikes against charles' tender skin who was but a child- a child. bruises should not litter a child's body. screams should not reach a child's ears.

he'd mocked this place, this temple to charles' forgone youth, this church of suffering. yet, charles continued to live here. when he had first started accepting students he wanted to fill it with enough good memories to wash away the bad. now, there were more bad filling up the empty air. charles was suffocating.

a few tears pass by erik's cheeks as charles pulls the memories away. he is crying too, far more than erik is, but it is a silent endeavor. erik kisses charles' cheek again, then his lips.

"i'm here," he whispers, "they're gone."

"i know," charles says, his voice waivering.

erik peppers kisses into charles' hair, "we will fill this place with good memories. you, myself, our children. students and teachers."

charles moves and cups erik's cheeks, "that's a nice thought. really. it is. but you have your world and i mine."

i will start with this school, erik kneels before charles' chair, presses his hands over charles' as though pledging feality to a lord, and then i will make a place for mutants to be safe. a utopia for mutants alone should your humans prove lack luster.

charles blinks away tears, "but erik-"

"i want you at my side," erik tells him, "i want you to hope again. i will build a world you will love brick by brick. with dirt beneath my fingers. with blood and sweat. if you can forgive me, i will give you everything."

as erik cups charles' cheeks, cerebro's lights flicker back on. they both smile and charles nods, letting his cheek lean and rest into one of erik's large hands. hank is on his way back up he can sense it.

"we'll talk more later," charles whispers, pecks erik's lips chastely.

it's not 'i love you'. perhaps, it is not the answer that erik wants to hear, but it's what charles can muster. he can still feel erik holding him, can feel erik screaming his thoughts as a plea to get charles not to plunge another needle into his arm. he'd forgotten how lovely it was to have another mind dance with his.

they have a second chance. maybe this time, things will go right.

hank's footsteps echo as he jogs along the path to the center console, "power's back. do you want to wait?"

"no," charlies replies calmly, "let's try once more."

the second time putting on cerebro still hurts as he forces himself to tune out things that are unnecessary. still, this time, he is successfully. sean is at some sort of facility in vietnam. most likely he'd be moved to a secret base where they might lose him forever. but for now, he was safe behind what should have been friendly lines.

"i've got him," charles says, then frowns, "and what seems to be a handful of other mutants but they're muted. something is blocking them."

erik shakes his shoulder, "i knew it. we have to save them. janos might be among them. "

hank mouths, janos?, to himself but with erik in his mind and he in erik's charles knows riptide's name now.

they deliver the news to raven who is visibly relieved to have some idea of where sean is. erik sits by a window as everyone talks, watching pietro and wanda play with the tire swing. a small smile crosses his face. still, he can feel charles' eyes watching him.

to no surprise when he turns, charles is smiling at him, lips quirked up playfully. fondness is sewn into the lines around his mouth. erik rolls his eyes at charles with exagerattion before turning his gaze back toward his children, cringing as pietro jumps from a tree branch, only avoiding a fall by wanda using her powers to make the ground become a hill to catch him.

"erik!" raven snaps. he looks at her and her raised eyebrows, eyes flashing like amber, "care to join us?"

"i'm listening," he assures, "we need to take the blackbird to vietnam. i'll have to call azazel- if janos is there, he'll want to be part of the rescue."

"he's the teleporter right?" asks hank, "because he seemed so nice when he was dropping fbi agents from the sky."

"azazel is twice the man those government hacks were," sniffs raven. erik smiles at her. both of them have come to deeply care for their russian brotherhood member. he grew up mistaken for a devil, hidden away from the world. he and raven had bonded over that. erik cared for his blunt candor.

"it will be better to have him," charles says, "and emma frost. i would just slow you all down."

"no, you wouldn't," erik argues, "your powers-"

"are still coming back," charles reminds him, voice soft. a gently hand seems to caress erik's stormy thoughts, "and someone needs to be here to watch the kids."

"we should ask angel to stay here," raven adds, "just in case. that way it's not just charles and the twins."

erik hadn't thought about that. missions had hardly crossed his mind when he ran here, but he should have considered it an eventuality. at some point, his kids would have to understand their father had work to do like any other. his was just more dangerous.

"you trust her to stay?" asks hank, skeptically. erik considers punching him, but charles reaches over and physically grabs his wrist.

i wasn't going to do it.

he's still hurt.

raven narrows her eyes, "do you trust me?"

"of course," hank replies, trying not to sound sheepish.

"then you can trust her," she ends the conversation there, standing, "i'm going to call the safehouse. hopefully, at least one of them is there."

erik turned his eyes back toward his kids once more. soon, his mysterious disapperance was going to be revealed. he could practically hear azazel calling him an old dog. charles' fingers threaded with his own, both of them coming to look out the window.

we should talk before you go, charles says, though his eyes train on wanda, trying to undo the small flat-topped hill she's made.

you know my feelings, erik reminds him.

charles shakes his head, we need discuss the school. your brotherhood. how that coexists.

it will coexist if i say it coexists, erik tries not to wrinkle his nose in disgust. instead, he feels the emptiness of charles's hand leaving his.

"stubborn as always," charles replies, though that fondness is still there. he takes his hands and rolls his chair back, "maybe you should speak to your brotherhood before me then."

"but charles-"

i'm tired, charles tells him, i'm going to rest before all the excitment starts. i think you'd better help your kids.

there is affection there, but erik is not a telepath. he can't tell if charles is shielding truer feelings from him. the realization leaves no small amount of frustration bubbling in his chest. nothing mattered but the promise erik had made to him. he would build a world charles could love.

his eyes moved from wanda to hank, thought of raven finally walking around her childhood home in her true skin. he thought of azazel who could not hide in plain sight. they deserved a world they could love too.

[lostquinn]

Two detectives, one bed

Connor (dbh) x gn!reader

~Fluff~

Summary - the good old classic one bed trope with my favourite boy, Connor.

Screaming I love him so much

Word count - 892

You and Connor were working together on a mission, Hank had taken some time off since the revolution and so Connor was assigned to be your partner for a while until the older man returned.

You didn't mind having the androids company one bit, you'd always been fond of him even since before he deviated. Only now, he was more charming.

"Can we get a room please- two beds?" You muttered to the hotel owner at the desk.

Connor was off in a corner of the lobby, looking around quietly. You glanced over your shoulder to him, he was looking up at a painting on the wall with his lips slightly parted. He looked from the painting to you, grinned then turned back.

It was endearing seeing him react to the world around him now that he had deviated. It was like he had opened his eyes for the first time.

The hotel owner handed you a key and gave you directions to the room. Your current assignment meant the two of you were briefly out of town so a crappy hotel it was.

You approached him, key in hand "Come on, con," you said to your fellow detective.

"Okay detective," he smiled at you, polite as ever.

The two of you walked quietly to your hotel room. He was close to you, but not close enough to touch. You glanced at him while walking and smiled at the way the strands of stray hair bounced with each step.

"This should be it," you stopped as you turned to a closed door.

You scanned your key card and pushed the door open, only struggling slightly with the weight of the door.

As you stepped inside, you dropped the heavy bag from your back and placed it to one side. You felt Connor shuffle past you and enter the room properly.

"[Name]?" He muttered.

You hummed in response.

"There's only one bed-"

You let out a sigh as you turned to him, taking a step towards the android. You glanced at the bed then back to him.

"Fuck sake," you grit your teeth "I requested two."

"It's okay, I'm comfortable with it if you are. If not I will happily rest on the floor or a chair," His words were soft and kind.

"We can share the bed, Con," you sighed. "I'm going to have a shower." You muttered before disappearing off into the bathroom.

You had a long, hot shower and enjoyed every second. Connor sat on the edge of the bed, playing with his coin. He had already changed out of his uniform into something more comfortable to sleep in, well as close to sleep as he could get.

Soon, you made your way from the bathroom wearing you clean, warm pajamas, fully refreshed from the shower and ready for bed.

A yawn escaped your lips as you looked to him. He seemed so alive, so human. It was endearing, he'd come so far since he deviated.

"Ready for bed?" You asked, he met your gaze.

"I can rest whenever, are you ready?" He responded, tilting his head slightly.

"Yea, scoot over," you chuckled.

You slid into one side of the bed, wiggling under the covers and he moved to the other side. He lay still under the blanket, staring at the ceiling.

Once you were comfortable, he turned the lights off. You smiled to yourself, your back was to him as you lay next to your friend.

Eventually, you drifted to sleep easily. Knowing that he was there, and most probably aware of your surroundings, comforted you.

When you woke up it was still dark, a clock ticked displaying the time, 4:47AM. You'd however already noticed that there wasn't a clock on your side of the room.

You were no longer facing away from Connor, instead you head was resting on his chest. One of your hands rested on his chest beside you, his hand rested atop yours. You would have rolled away, however his other arm was wrapped firmly around your waist, keeping you close. There was nothing you could do so you closed your eyes again, attempting to get more sleep.

"Are you awake?" The android whispered, his words bounced around the room.

"No..." you muttered.

The room was quiet for a moment, his LED was certainly blinking yellow and you were sure he had an eyebrow quirked even if you couldn't see.

"That was a good attempt detective, however I saw your eyes open just now." He responded, confused and somewhat proud.

You let out a chuckle which soon turned into a laugh, you buried you face in his chest as you laughed at the conversation at hand.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, panic lacing his tone.

"Yeah, of course, Con," you giggled.

"I'm glad."

You opened you eyes and looked up at him, he was already looking at you, his LED blinking yellow.

You squirmed up closer to his face, closing the gap as you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. His mouth opened slightly as he whispered a gentle 'oh'.

You returned to your spot on his chest and closed your eyes.

"I need more sleep," you mumbled, falling asleep once more.

Connor lay awake, his software malfunctioning as he attempted to process what had happened. All he wanted was for it to happen again.