#like he immediately kicked it into overdrive

[steakout-05]

words cannot describe how much i absolutely love this video

the stupidly funny combination of characters that were chosen based off their first names. the narrator. the cosplays. the jerry seinfeld impression. barry steakfries' accent. barry steakfries getting progressively more aggravated as the song goes on. they let barry steakfries swear. "he's built like a mini fridge" and "this dude don't have a neck!". barry benson stealing barry steakfries' girlfriend on bumble. the references to the vlog. the lyric about the bee movie xbox game that's funny to me specifically because i saw caddicarus play it. "i'll be making your honey NUT". barry benson yelling "I MEAN COME ON!!" at the end. barry steakfries having beef with a bee that's literally 3 centimetres tall that he could easily squash with no effort. the fact that this does hard for no reason. i absolutely adore this video go watch it!!

[pandapetals]

Crush

logan howlett x fem!shy reader - slight angst, misunderstandings, struggle expressing feelings, crushes, introvert reader, x-men cameos, logan being jealous, fluff at end

You have a crush on Logan but being shy and introverted makes it hard for you to tell him that.

read on Ao3

You had a painfully obvious crush, at least to yourself. You kept it locked away, buried under layers of awkwardness and forced indifference. There was no point in admitting it, no point in setting yourself up for the kind of rejection that would leave you reeling for weeks. That’s why they called it a crush—it hurt. And you’d rather avoid the sting altogether.

Logan, of all people, would never look at you that way. Why would he? The man was a living embodiment of rugged confidence, the kind of guy who attracted the attention of bold, sexy women without even trying. Women who exuded confidence, who knew how to flirt without stumbling over their words or turning beet red at the slightest hint of interest.

You were not that woman.

You were awkward, sometimes downright clumsy with your words, and whenever Logan was nearby, you either avoided him completely or turned into a jittery mess. The few times you’d actually spoken to him, you’d kept it short, clipped even—anything to hide the way your heart raced whenever he was within arm’s reach.

But today? Today, fate was not on your side.

"Hey," Logan’s low, gravelly voice cut through the air, pulling you out of your swirling thoughts.

You jumped, nearly dropping the stack of books in your arms as his voice startled you. A squeal escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you cursed under your breath, feeling heat flood your cheeks.

"Hi!" you blurted out, avoiding his gaze as if your life depended on it. Your eyes darted anywhere but at him, settling on the wall, the floor, even the damn ceiling—anywhere but on Logan’s piercing hazel eyes.

You stood there, clutching the books like they were some kind of shield between you and him, your heart hammering in your chest. Logan stood in front of you, his hands casually in his jacket pockets, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. His brows furrowed slightly, probably trying to figure out why you were acting like a deer caught in headlights.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice gruff, though there was a hint of amusement in it.

You nodded quickly, a little too quickly, your palms suddenly sweaty. "Yep, fine," you muttered, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “Just busy.” You gestured vaguely to the books in your arms as if that explained your entire existence.

Logan's gaze lingered on you, those damn intense eyes scanning your face, trying to read something in your expression. You swallowed hard, willing yourself to act normal, but normal wasn't exactly your strong suit when he was around.

"Right," he said, his tone skeptical but not unkind. "You sure? You look like you’re about to bolt."

You forced a laugh, though it came out more like a strained chuckle. "No, no bolting," you lied, though the urge to flee was strong. Your nerves were screaming at you to make up some excuse and leave before you made an even bigger fool of yourself.

Logan didn’t move, didn’t let you off the hook that easily. He stood there, hands still in his pockets, watching you with that calm, unshakable presence that made him impossible to ignore.

"So, I was thinkin’," he started, his voice a little softer now, almost hesitant—something you weren’t used to hearing from him. "You and me, we should... hang out sometime."

Your heart nearly stopped. Hang out? Logan wanted to hang out with you?

Your brain went into overdrive, trying to process the words, but instead of the cool, collected response you wished you could give, you blurted out, “Why?”

The word came out sharper than you intended, and you immediately winced, mentally kicking yourself. Of all the ways you could’ve responded, why was probably the worst? It sounded rude, and defensive, like you couldn’t believe he would even suggest it.

Logan raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Why not?”

You blinked, feeling your face grow even hotter. “I-I don’t know, I just—” You stumbled over your words, trying to backtrack but only making it worse. “I mean, you don’t usually talk to me, and I figured you’d rather—uh—hang out with someone else, you know?”

The smirk on Logan’s face softened, his eyes narrowing slightly in the way they did when he was trying to figure someone out. "I’d rather hang out with you," he said, his voice low and steady, without a hint of hesitation.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, your mind reeling. He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t mocking you. He was... serious and that realization only made you more nervous.

You shifted on your feet, clutching the books tighter. “I’m... not exactly the best company,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze again. “I’m awkward, and—well, I’m not really good at this kind of thing.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and almost warm. “Darlin’, you think I’m lookin’ for someone perfect to hang out with? I’m about as rough around the edges as they come.”

You hesitated, sneaking a glance at him from under your lashes. He was still watching you, but there was something softer in his expression now, something that made the knots in your stomach loosen just a little.

“I don’t know,” you murmured, feeling your voice wobble under the weight of everything unsaid. Uncertainty hung in the air between you and Logan, thick and suffocating, making your chest tighten with every awkward breath.

Logan stepped closer, his usual gruffness softened by the unspoken question in his eyes. His hand moved toward your face, almost instinctively, but he stopped short, his fingers lingering just inches from your cheek, as if he was afraid to touch you—afraid of crossing a line. His jaw clenched the hard edge of frustration in his expression barely masked by the vulnerability he wasn’t used to showing.

“Do you hate me or somethin’?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, so sudden and raw that they knocked the wind out of you. Hate him? Your throat tightened as you stared at him, the disbelief written all over your face. How could he think that? How could anyone hate Logan? The idea was so far from the truth that it left you speechless for a moment, caught between the shock of his question and the overwhelming desire to fix whatever misunderstanding had led him here.

“No—” You shook your head, the word falling out of your mouth clumsily, but it wasn’t enough to erase the hurt that flickered behind his eyes.

Logan’s face hardened, that familiar guarded look slipping back into place like armor, shielding him from whatever pain he thought you were hiding. He shifted his weight, his arms crossing over his chest in a way that felt more like a barrier than anything else. “Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered, his voice low, almost resigned. “You don’t talk to me. Hell, you barely look at me.”

You winced, feeling the truth in his words like a knife twisting in your gut. He wasn’t wrong. You had been avoiding him, dodging his gaze in hallways, keeping your conversations short, brushing him off whenever he tried to get close. But it wasn’t because you hated him—not even close. It was because every time he looked at you, your heart raced in a way that terrified you, a way that made you feel like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to fall.

The last thing you wanted was to fall for someone who could never want you the way you wanted him.

Logan took your silence as confirmation of his worst fears. His jaw clenched tighter, the hurt in his eyes hardening into something closer to anger, though not quite—more like frustration and resignation rolled into one. “Look, if I’ve done somethin’ to piss you off, just say it,” he said, his voice rough around the edges, but quieter now, like he was trying not to let the hurt show. “But this whole… act? This avoidin’ me all the damn time? I don’t get it. I ain’t done nothin’ to deserve this.”

His words cut deep, guilt gnawing at the edges of your heart. You could see it now—how your awkwardness, your fear, had been misread as rejection. How Logan, of all people, had been standing there, arms outstretched, only to be met with walls you didn’t even realize you were building.

You opened your mouth to explain, but the words wouldn’t come. You didn’t know how to explain the mess inside your head, the way you’d convinced yourself that keeping distance between you and him was safer, easier, than admitting how much he affected you. How much you wanted him, despite everything telling you it could never work.

Logan’s eyes flashed with frustration as the silence stretched between you. He ran a hand through his hair, his rough fingers tangling in the strands like he was trying to keep himself from saying something he’d regret. “You’re really not gonna say anything, huh?” His voice broke a little, rawer now, like the frustration had finally worn him down.

Your heart hammered in your chest, the weight of his words suffocating. The look on his face—the quiet hurt, the way his eyes flickered between anger and something far more vulnerable—was too much. It was too much to bear, too much to know that he’d spent all this time thinking you hated him when the truth was the exact opposite.

“I don’t hate you,” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips, but they carried more weight than you realized.

Logan stilled, his eyes locking onto yours, searching for something—some hint of truth, some explanation that made sense of all the confusion that had built between you. “Then what the hell is it?” he asked. “’Cause I don’t get it, darlin’. One minute you’re actin’ like I don’t exist, and the next you’re—” He stopped himself, his breath catching in his throat as he tried to find the right words. “I just don’t know what the hell I did wrong.”

Your heart ached at the pain in his voice, at the way he seemed so sure he was the problem. The truth weighed heavy on your chest, but fear kept your mouth shut—fear that once you said it, once you admitted how you felt, there’d be no going back.

Logan wasn’t going to wait forever. He took a step back, pulling his hand away from where it had hovered near your face, his eyes flickering with something close to disappointment. “Forget it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m not gonna beg.”

He turned as if to walk away, and panic surged through you, your chest tightening with the fear that you’d let him leave without explaining, without fixing what you’d broken. Your hand shot out instinctively, grabbing his arm before you even realized what you were doing.

“Wait—Logan, please.” Your voice cracked, your grip on his arm tightening. He stopped, glancing down at your hand, then back up at you with those sharp hazel eyes, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

He waited. His silence a heavy, painful thing as you struggled to find the right words. “I don’t hate you,” you repeated, more firmly this time, your heart pounding in your ears. “I… I just—” You swallowed hard, your chest aching with the weight of what you were about to admit. “I didn’t know how to be around you.”

Logan frowned, his brow furrowing as he studied your face. “What d’you mean?”

You bit your lip, your mind racing for an escape, any way to pull yourself out of this vulnerable moment. You could feel the truth bubbling up inside you, threatening to spill out, but fear clenched around your chest like a vice. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t tell him.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, your voice tight, forced. Your eyes flickered to the floor, your stomach twisting as you scrambled for something, anything, to steer the conversation away from the truth. A lie formed on your tongue, half-formed and desperate, and you latched onto it before you could stop yourself. “I’ve just been... distracted.”

Logan’s frown deepened. “By what?” His voice was quiet, but there was a sharpness to it, a need to understand that made your stomach churn. He was getting too close, too damn close.

Panic surged through you, and before you knew what you were saying, the words tumbled out. “It’s... someone else.” You cringed inwardly as the lie left your lips, feeling the weight of it settle between you like a barrier.

Logan’s expression shifted, confusion flickering across his face, and then something darker. He tightened his jaw as his eyes hardened. “Someone else?” he repeated, his voice low, carefully controlled.

You nodded, your heart sinking. You couldn’t stop now. The lie was out, and you had to commit to it. “Yeah, um... it’s just—I’ve been kinda... into someone from the team.” The words felt foreign, clumsy like they didn’t belong to you. You hated how easily they fell from your lips, how they felt like a betrayal of everything you actually wanted to say.

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his arms crossed over his chest, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he studied you. “Who?” The word was clipped, sharp, like he was bracing himself for something he didn’t want to hear.

You froze. Who? You hadn’t thought that far ahead. Your mind raced, and in your panic, you blurted out the first name that came to you. “Scott.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Logan’s reaction was immediate—his jaw clenched so tight you thought you could hear his teeth grind. His eyes flickered with something hot and dangerous before he quickly masked it. He took a step back, his hands curling into fists at his sides, his posture rigid. “Scott, huh?”

You nodded, swallowing the guilt that rose in your throat like bile. “Yeah,” you mumbled, hating yourself more with every second that passed. “I mean... I know he’s kinda, you know with Jean but...you can see why I didn’t want anyone knowing—”

Logan let out a sharp breath, cutting you off. His eyes, usually so intense but warm, were cold now, narrowed and unreadable. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” His voice was rough, edged with something that made your heart ache. “Because you’re into Scott?”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak. You just nodded, the lie sitting heavy on your chest, suffocating you.

Logan’s laugh was humorless, more of a bitter scoff than anything else. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair, his movements tense, almost angry. “Well, should’ve seen it.” 

You stood there, the room suddenly feeling too big, too empty, the weight of your lie pressing down on you like a heavy stone. Logan had left without looking back, his words still ringing in your ears—“Should’ve seen it”—and you wished, more than anything, that you could take it all back. But the damage was done, and now you were left with nothing but the bitter taste of regret.

You slumped into a chair, burying your face in your hands, replaying the moment repeatedly, wishing you’d had the courage to just tell him the truth.

Meanwhile, Logan was storming down the hallway, his mind a tangled mess of frustration, confusion, and something he couldn’t quite name. He wasn’t one for feelings—hell, he’d spent most of his life trying to bury them—but this? This hit him differently. The thought of you having a crush on Scott had thrown him, and for his life, he couldn’t figure out why. What the hell did you see in the guy?

His footsteps echoed through the mansion as he made a beeline for the training room, where he knew Scott would be. When he pushed through the door, the room was mostly empty, save for Scott, who was busy adjusting one of the control panels near the Danger Room entrance.

"Summers," Logan growled, his voice low and sharp as he approached.

Scott turned, eyebrows raised beneath his visor, clearly not expecting Logan to barge in like this. "Logan," he said, keeping his voice neutral. "What’s going on?"

Logan stalked closer, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Did you know she had a crush on you?" he demanded, his voice rough with barely contained frustration.

Scott blinked, clearly confused. "Know about what?"

"Her," Logan snapped. "She’s got a crush on you. You knew about that?"

Scott looked completely taken aback, his mouth slightly agape before quickly composing himself. "Wait, who are we talking about?" he asked, genuinely bewildered. "Are you talking about... her?"

Logan clenched his jaw, the muscle ticking beneath his stubble. "Yeah, her. She told me she’s been into you, and now I’m tryin’ to figure out what the hell’s goin’ on."

Scott’s confusion deepened, and he shook his head. "I had no idea," he admitted, sounding as baffled as Logan felt. "I thought she had a thing for Kurt."

Logan's scowl deepened. "Kurt?" he repeated, the name coming out like a low growl. "You’re sayin’ she’s into Nightcrawler?"

Scott shrugged. "That’s what I thought. I’ve seen them talk a few times, and she seemed... I don’t know, shy around him. Figured she liked him."

Logan’s frustration flared even higher, his temper fraying as the conversation spiraled further away from what he thought he knew. First, he’d thought you were into Scott, and now Scott was telling him you might have a crush on Kurt? None of it was making any sense, and the knot in Logan’s chest tightened.

"Thanks for nothin’, Summers," Logan grumbled, already turning on his heel and heading for the door.

Scott held up his hands, his visor catching the light. "Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just telling you what I saw."

Logan grunted in response, barely acknowledging Scott as he stormed out of the training room, his mind racing. If Scott didn’t know, and if you weren’t into him... then maybe Kurt had the answer. Logan’s jaw clenched at the thought, a surge of jealousy he hadn’t expected twisting in his gut. He needed to get to the bottom of this, one way or another.

Logan found Kurt in the garden, perched on a stone bench, lost in thought. The air around him was peaceful, the soft sound of birds chirping and the rustling of leaves in the wind providing a calm backdrop to the scene. But Logan wasn’t here for calm.

"Kurt," Logan called, his voice cutting through the serenity like a blade.

Kurt looked up, his yellow eyes widening slightly as Logan approached, clearly sensing the tension rolling off him. "Logan," he greeted cautiously, his tail twitching nervously. "Is something wrong?"

Logan stopped a few feet away from him, crossing his arms over his chest. "You and her," he said bluntly. "There somethin’ goin’ on there?"

Kurt’s brows furrowed in confusion, his tail curling around the leg of the bench as he tilted his head. "Her?" he echoed, trying to follow Logan’s line of thought. "Who are you talking about?"

Logan huffed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "The girl," he growled. "You’ve been talkin’ to her. Scott thinks she’s into you. Is that true?"

Kurt blinked, completely thrown off by the accusation. "Into me?" He shook his head quickly, standing up from the bench. "No, Logan, that’s not true. We’ve spoken, yes, but nothing like that. She’s... well, she seems reserved around everyone."

Logan’s jaw tightened. "So you’re tellin’ me you haven’t noticed her actin’ strange around you?"

Kurt smiled gently, trying to diffuse the situation. "Everyone acts strange around me at first, Logan. But no, I don’t believe she has feelings for me. I think you might be mistaken."

Logan let out a frustrated sigh, feeling no closer to an answer than when he’d started this ridiculous search. "Great," he muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "First Scott, now you... I don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on."

Kurt watched him for a moment, his expression softening with understanding. "Perhaps," he began carefully, "you’re looking for answers in the wrong place. If you want to know who she cares about... maybe you should ask Ororo."

“Why would I ask her?” Logan growled, more to himself than anyone else. “What’s she got to do with this?”

Kurt, ever patient, tilted his head and gave Logan a knowing smile. “Because she and Ororo are friends. I’ve seen them spend a lot of time together. If anyone knows what’s going on, it’s her.”

Logan grunted, rolling his shoulders, his tension palpable. He didn’t want to involve Ororo—didn’t want to turn this into more of a thing than it already was. But if Kurt was right, and Ororo knew something… well, he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Thanks,” Logan muttered, already turning to leave.

Kurt nodded, watching Logan go, but his yellow eyes were filled with something more than amusement—something that hinted at the truth Logan was too stubborn to see for himself just yet.

Logan found Ororo in the greenhouse, tending to a row of plants that thrived under her careful touch. The humid air clung to him as he stepped inside, the smell of earth and rain filling the space. Ororo didn’t look up at first, her focus on the delicate leaves of a blooming flower, but she knew he was there. She always did.

“Logan,” she greeted calmly, her voice like the soft rustling of leaves in the wind. “What brings you here?”

Logan wasted no time, his frustration still simmering just below the surface. “I need to ask you somethin’,” he said, his tone gruff as usual.

Ororo finally looked up, her serene expression unwavering. “Go ahead.”

He hesitated for a second, feeling foolish now that he was standing in front of her. Ororo wasn’t the kind of person you grilled for answers, but he was desperate. “You and her,” he started, his eyes narrowing. “You two are close. Has she… said anythin’ to you about someone she’s into?”

Ororo raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “Why do you ask?”

Logan’s jaw clenched. He hated this dance, hated feeling like he was walking into a trap he couldn’t see. “Kurt said you’d know. I’m tryin’ to figure out if what I heard is true, that she’s got feelings for Scott.” The name came out like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Ororo tilted her head, her expression softening. “Logan, what exactly are you trying to figure out?”

Logan scowled, feeling the question cut too close to something he hadn’t fully confronted. “I just… need to know if she’s into someone. That’s all.” His words were clipped, defensive.

Ororo’s eyes sparkled with quiet understanding. She didn’t say anything for a long moment, just watched him with that unnerving calm that made him feel like she could see right through him.

When she finally spoke, her voice was gentle but firm. “Logan, if you’re so concerned about who she’s interested in, perhaps you should ask yourself why.”

Logan stiffened, his muscles coiled tight. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Ororo’s smile softened, but she didn’t back down. “You’re chasing answers about her feelings, but I think the real question is about yours.”

He blinked, thrown off by her words, but before he could snap back with his usual gruffness, something clicked—something that made his heart tighten in his chest. Jealousy.

Was that what this was? All this running around, demanding to know who you were interested in, snapping at the thought of you liking someone else… it wasn’t about figuring out the truth. It was about him. It was about the way his heart twisted at the thought of you being with anyone but him. The way he couldn’t shake the anger, the gnawing insecurity, because deep down, he wanted to be the one you were looking at, thinking about.

Ororo watched the realization settle over him, her gaze steady but compassionate. “You’ve been chasing the wrong answers, Logan,” she said softly. “If you want to know how she feels, ask her. But first, figure out how you feel.”

Logan stood there, his fists clenched at his sides, the weight of her words sinking in. He didn’t respond, didn’t know how to. Instead, he gave a curt nod, turning on his heel and stalking out of the greenhouse, his mind a mess of conflicting emotions.

The rest of the day, Logan couldn’t get Ororo’s words out of his head. Jealousy. He wasn’t the type to get jealous. He’d lived too long and seen too much to get caught up in feelings like that. But damn it, whenever he thought about you with someone else—Scott, Kurt, anyone—it made his blood boil in a way he couldn’t explain.

By the time night fell Logan had had enough. He needed answers. He needed to know the truth, not just about you, but about himself.

With a deep breath, he made his way to your room, his pulse thrumming with a mix of frustration, confusion, and something he wasn’t quite ready to name yet.

When he knocked on your door, he heard the soft shuffle of footsteps inside. A moment later, you opened the door, looking surprised to see him standing there. The expression on your face quickly turned to confusion when you saw the intensity in his eyes.

“Logan? What’s going on?”

He didn’t waste any time. “We need to talk.”

You frowned, your hand tightening on the doorknob. “About what?”

Logan stepped closer, his voice low and rough. “About you. Who the hell you’re really into?”

Your eyes widened, panic flashing across your face. “W-what are you talking about? I already told you—”

Logan cut you off with a growl, his frustration boiling over. “Don’t lie to me. I’ve been runnin’ around all day trying to figure this out—askin’ Scott, Kurt, even Ororo. And you know what? None of them know a damn thing. So I’m done with the guessin’. You’re gonna tell me the truth. Right now.”

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure Logan could hear it. The weight of his words, the raw frustration in his voice, wrapped around your chest like a vise. This was it—the moment you’d been running from, the one that made you feel exposed, vulnerable, and terrified.

You couldn’t run now. 

You swallowed hard, forcing the words past the lump in your throat. “Logan... I don’t like Scott. Or Kurt. That was just—I panicked,” you confessed, the lie sitting heavy between you both, a truth finally dragging itself into the light. 

Logan’s eyes, usually so unreadable and guarded, were stormy with confusion and something sharper, something closer to hurt. He stared at you for a moment, trying to make sense of what you’d just said. “Why did you lie?” His voice was rough, almost accusing. “If you hate me, then just admit it.”

The way he said it—the bitterness in his tone—cut through you like a knife. Hate him? The idea was ridiculous, absurd, and yet it was clear Logan had convinced himself of it as if you avoiding him, your awkwardness, could only be explained by disgust.

“I don’t hate you!” you blurted, more forcefully than you intended. Your voice cracked with the weight of your own emotions, and you immediately took a step back, trying to gather yourself, but Logan wasn’t letting you go that easily.

“Then why does your heart race every time you see me?” Logan pressed, his voice low but intense. He took a step toward you, the space between you growing smaller, the air thick with tension. “I must scare you, right? You must be terrified of me because you hate me.”

The words hit like a wave, your breath catching as his eyes bore into yours, a mix of frustration, vulnerability, and anger swirling in his gaze. He was waiting for you to confirm it, to say what he thought was the truth—that you couldn’t stand to be around him.

Your throat tightened, your pulse hammering in your ears as you struggled to find the right words. How could you explain what you felt when even you didn’t fully understand it? The confusion, the fear of rejection, the way being near him made you feel so exposed like he could see through every wall you’d ever put up. 

“You don’t scare me,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Logan, it’s not that.”

“Then what?” His voice was still rough, but there was a flicker of something softer underneath—like he was holding on to the hope that maybe there was more to this than he thought.

“I don’t hate you,” you said again, your voice steadier this time, though your chest still felt tight. “I just... I didn’t know how to act around you. Because every time I see you, every time you’re near me, I—”

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. Logan didn’t move, his eyes still locked on yours, waiting, watching, almost daring you to finish.

“I feel something,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “And it scares me.”

Logan’s expression shifted, the anger fading as something else settled in—something that made your stomach twist in anticipation. His jaw clenched, his fists relaxing at his sides, and for a moment, he just looked at you, really looked at you, like he was seeing you for the first time.

“What’re you sayin’?” he asked quietly, almost hesitant like he didn’t trust himself to believe what he thought he was hearing.

Your breath hitched as his question hung between you, the truth teetering on the edge of your tongue. You had been running from this moment for so long, hiding behind your awkwardness and your fear. But now? Now you had to say it.

“I’m saying...” you began, your heart pounding as the words finally came, “that I could never hate you because I don’t know how to handle…you.”

Logan’s eyes softened, the frustration melting away as the truth hit him. He took another step closer, his presence almost overwhelming, but not in the way you feared. It was grounding, steady, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like running.

“I make your heart race because... you like me?” he asked, his voice low, the disbelief in it unmistakable.

You nodded, your chest tight with anticipation, your eyes locked on his. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I do.”

Logan exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he let out a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe it. He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again, softer, more open than you’d ever seen it.

“All this time,” he murmured, his voice rough and full of something raw, something you weren’t used to seeing in him. “You’ve been drivin’ me crazy, and I thought—” He stopped himself, his lips curving into a small, rueful smile. “I thought you couldn’t stand me.”

You felt a wave of relief crash over you, the weight of your unspoken feelings finally lifting. “I couldn’t stand being around you,” you admitted with a nervous laugh, “because every time I was, I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

Logan chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, like a quiet rumble from deep in his chest. He took another step closer, his hand reaching up, this time closing the distance and gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch was warm, his fingers rough but careful as they lingered there.

“Well, now I know why you kept avoiding me,” he muttered, his smirk softening into something more tender. “Guess I should’ve figured it out sooner.”

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter in your chest as you looked up at him, the tension between you shifting into something deeper, something that felt like it had always been there, just waiting for the right moment to come to light.

“So... what now?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s eyes darkened with something unreadable, but his smile stayed, slow and easy. “Now?” he murmured, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Now…I would really like to kiss you.”

He leaned down, his lips hovering just above yours for a heartbeat, waiting, giving you the chance to pull away—but you didn’t. Instead, you leaned in, your heart racing as his lips finally pressed against yours, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the moment he thought he’d never have.

The kiss was gentle at first, cautious, but it didn’t take long for the heat between you to build, the months of longing and tension finally breaking through. When you pulled away, your breath shaky, Logan’s forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“Should’ve told me sooner,” he muttered, his voice low, teasing but soft.

You laughed softly, still catching your breath. “Yeah, well... better late than never, right?”

Logan smirked, his fingers brushing through your hair. “Right.”

[strangelysamantha]

good girl ✧

eddie munson x fem!reader.

warnings: smut. MDNI!! 18+!! swearing; slight degradation if you squint. pure filth.

summary: eddie munson loves eating pussy, better yet he loves fucking you after he’s already made you crumble.

a/n: i want to write more to distract myself but im too lazy to grab my computer so this is written on my phone. like and reblog if you enjoy. eddie is hot 🩷 also im changing the intro to my stories bc i feel like some of it was unnecessary lol ^~^

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“god you’re so fucking pathetic.” eddie grabbed your throat, looking directly into your eyes. “you must want my cock so bad, hmm?” he used his finger to feel your clothed pussy. “soaking wet and i’ve barely even touched you.” you groan, the anticipation creeping up. “please ed,” you whimper softly, rutting your hips forward. “i need you so bad.” he tsks, standing straight. he locks his eyes with yours, slowly undoing his belt. his cock was hard, desperate for your touch, but he wanted to make you beg for him.

“why should i fuck you?” he questions, his pants are down now, his hard length protruding through his underwear. you frown, realizing what he was leading up too. “eddie please.” he shakes his head, “cmon baby, tell me.” you close your eyes, taking a shaky breath. “i need you to touch me.” he leans forward, “not good enough.” he stands up again, furthering the distance. “please all night you’ve been teasing me. i just want you to fuck me.” he sighs contentedly, placing a kiss on your lips. your hunger kicked into overdrive and you immediately kiss him back, your tongue fighting with his. you wrap your arms around his neck, holding tightly onto him. he pulls away and you immediately frown. “let me help you with these.” he leans down, removing the lacey material, exposing your pussy.

“promise im all yours?” you enthusiastically shake your head, “im all yours ed’s i promise.” he reaches his two fingers towards your mouth. “open.” you happily oblige, “wider.” he sets his fingers into your mouth, allowing your tongue to wet them. “such a good girl.” he leans on the bed with you now.

you were in a quite vulnerable position, legs wide. eddie licked his lips, his eyes mentally taking note of your exposed body. he places his wet fingers inside of you, slowly stretching you out. “i gotta get you nice and ready for my cock; yeah?” you couldn’t manage to utter a single word, so you just watch him in awe. he reaches forward, now using his tongue to lap against your clit. you throw your head back; a small moan escaping you. this made his heart speed up, he continued at a quick place, licking your pussy and thrusting his fingers into you. your hands grab his hair, keeping his face close to your cunt. “so good ed’s, feels so good.” he continues; seeing you crumble beneath him gave him an ego boost, and you were very aware. but eddie munson was really good at eating pussy, and with all the attention he focused on your clit, he was soon making you approach your first orgasm.

his free hand grabs your thigh tightly, his fingers leaving red marks into your fleshy skin. “don’t stop, please,” you hook your legs around him, forcing him close to your pussy. “i’m gonna cum.” he helps you through your high, your legs shaky slightly. “you taste so good sweetheart.” you shake your head, now embarrassed. “don’t be embarrassed baby, that was really sexy.” you decide to make the next move, eager to feel him inside you.

you sit up; reaching for his underwear. you pull it down to reveal his cock. it’s hard, throbbing; and there’s a decent amount of precum leaking from his red tip. you reach out, stroking him. he groans under your touch. “gonna fuck you so good.” you lay back on the bed, opening your legs for eddie. “then fuck me.” he smirks at your comment, but decides you’ve earned it. he pumps his cock a few times before lining it up at your entrance. “i need you eddie.” he kisses your neck, biting your skin. he slowly inserts himself, ensuring he wasn’t hurting you too bad. he slowly pushes in and out, he always waited for your approval. he wanted to make sure you were having a good experience too.

you let out a small whine, his cock was deep inside of you, that mixed with his hands gripping your hips, was sending you into blissful peace. “god your pussy is perfect.” he hides his face into the crevice of your neck. he reached a hand down, playing with your bundle of nerves. “love when you take my cock.” he’s going menacingly slow now, irritation taking over. “eddie faster.” he chuckles, “no please?” he lifted an eyebrow at you, removing his hand from your clit. “eddie. please, please fuck me.” he nods, his hands gripping your hips. he slams his cock further into you, a relentless fast pace following your demands.

you stare directly at eddie, watching his face contort into pleasure, his mouth open slightly, his curls falling in front of his eyes. you reach forward to move his hair to the side, immediately latching your lips onto his.

he swiftly pulls out, “get on your hands and knees for me?” you smile, “anything.” you switch into the different position, your ass arched perfectly in front of him. he lines himself up with you again; eager to continue fucking you. “fuck you’re gonna be the death of me.” he slaps your ass, squeezing it. “could fuck you like this everyday.” he pushes you down, now face to face with the mattress. he was incredibly turned on, the only thing on his mind was filling you with his cum. “eddie fuck you’re cock is so big.” his dick continued to hit that spot inside of you, his hands grabbing everything they could; your hips, thighs, ass, he couldn’t get enough of you. you reach down to circle your clit, small moan falls from your lips. “we’re alone baby.” you look back at him, “i know.” he smirks, “it doesn’t sound like you know. let me hear your moans.” he continues to drill into you, you stop muffling your moans and started to let go. letting the pleasure engulf you, “i know i make you feel good. no one else can fuck you like this, can they?” he questions, you shake your head, “no ed’s only you-.” you arch your back again; the angle allowing eddie to burry himself further into you. “fuck you make me feel so good eds.”

“want you to cum for me.” your eyes are shut now; the pleasure filling your stomach with butterflies, “be a good girl, cum around my cock.” his words only get you there faster. “gonna cum, please let me cum.” your hand dropped and he quickly used his fingers to replace the friction you had previously lost. “that’s it.” your body shakes as your orgasm washes over you. “gonna cum inside your pussy.” you moan at his words, and how eagerly he was using your sloppy hole. “such a slut. you want me to fill you with my cum? yeah?” you nod, worn out. “yes please.” he needs more, “beg for it.” you tighten around him, “give me your cum eds, i want you to cum.” you continue to babble, “fill me up please.” he moans, his cock twitching. “awh fuck yes.” his pace slows down as his high approached, his seed leaking out of you. “god that was perfect.” your eyes are sleepy; “eddie you’re really good at sex.” he laughs, “baby, when you’re pussy feels that perfect i’m obligated to work harder.” you bite your lip at his confession, “i gotta work to be able to keep your pussy, right?” you grin, “yeah, you’re right.” he smiles brightly, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

he leads you to the bathroom. while you use the toilet he wets a washcloth with warm water. he gently cleans you up. he places a kiss on your forehead, then one on your lips. he grabs you a new pair of underwear. he helps you slide them on. “you’re all i’ll ever need baby.” his words comfort you, and you follow him back to his bed. “i only want you.” he kisses you’re forehead again, “get some rest baby, i know your sleepy.” you look up at him, “very sleepy. goodnight eds.” you cuddle into him, you breathing slow. “i love you.” you softly mutter. he rubs your back, “i love you.”

[solxamber]

can I request a twst males (maybe females)and nrc staff with a reader who kinda likes deforms when their stress , they could be like a human slime who 'slops' around , she's human enough but some parts of her are slimy (maybe like a human magma slime from minecraft) , they stresses a lot and one day they just blob into their hands (the twst males ans staff) whilst they start crying , if this is too complicated u can ignore this.(my English is not too god)

Slime! Reader with All NRC + Rollo, Neige, Najma Viper, NRC Staff

hi! i hope I've interpreted your ask correctly! and your English is totally fine don't worry about! also I added najma because i didn't know which twst females you wanted.

Riddle Rosehearts:

When Riddle first sees you start to "slop" around, he’s at a loss for words. He's usually composed and strict, but seeing you melt in his arms—quite literally—throws him off.

“Y-You're not following the rules of physical form!” Riddle stammers, attempting to keep calm, but inside, he’s panicking. His need to control the situation is overridden by concern when you cry softly, slimy tears soaking into his uniform.

He awkwardly pats your head, trying to keep himself together. “There, there. You can cry as much as you need to, but please… maintain some semblance of form.”

Trey Clover:

Trey, with his calm demeanor, isn’t too fazed by the fact that you’re half-human, half-slime. In fact, he’s probably the most accepting.

When you melt into a puddle of stress in his arms, he just holds you close, gently massaging your shoulders (well, where your shoulders should be in slime form). “You know, stress baking helps me,” he says soothingly. “Maybe once you’re feeling solid again, we can bake something together. Or… we can make slime cookies?” He smiles softly as your sobs slow.

Cater Diamond:

Cater's immediate reaction is to whip out his phone for a picture—but then he stops himself because this moment is actually serious. When you’re upset and melting all over him, he adjusts quickly.

“Whoa, hey, hey! No need to puddle-up on me!” Cater jokes lightly but holds you tightly, letting you feel safe. “You know, I’ve heard slime baths are all the rage on MagiCam! How about we figure out how to make this slime stress into a #trend?”

Despite his attempt to lighten the mood, his grip is firm, and he lets you cry it out.

Ace Trappola:

Ace, being Ace, doesn’t know what to do when you start to melt into slime. His first instinct is to make fun of the situation, but the second you start crying, he feels a little bad.

“Okay, okay! I didn’t mean to stress you out that much!” Ace protests, awkwardly wiping your slimy tears. “You know, some people use this stuff for beauty treatments, so really, you’re just giving me a free face mask.”

Even though he’s flustered, Ace sticks by your side, not moving until you feel better.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce’s first instinct is to panic when he sees you melting. His problem-solving brain kicks into overdrive, but there’s no quick fix for slime stress.

“I-Is this normal?! Should I be calling a healer?” he blurts out while cradling you, his heart racing. His protective instincts take over as he holds you close, even though you’re all slimy. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out. I’ve got your back, okay?”

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona looks down at the slimey version of you with a raised eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting to literally have you melting in his arms.

“You’re a mess, herbivore,” Leona grumbles, but there's a warmth in his voice as he holds onto you, preventing you from dripping all over the floor. He doesn’t let go, even when his tail gets a little slimy too. “Don’t worry about it. Just stick close, okay?”

Ruggie Bucchi:

Ruggie is caught off guard by your sudden transformation, but he’s adaptable. He scoops you up into his arms with a quick grin.

“Hey, hey, don’t go melting all over the place! I’ve got things to do, y’know?” Ruggie jokes lightly. But his tone softens when he sees your distress. “But I guess those can wait. C’mere, I’ll help you get back on your feet—or whatever you have when you’re not slime.”

Jack Howl:

Jack is momentarily stunned when you melt in his arms. His first reaction is to try to lift you back up, but, well, you’re slime, so that doesn’t quite work out.

He huffs, blushing a little. “Just… take your time. You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ve got you, okay?” Jack's protective nature shines through, his arms gently wrapped around what solid parts of you remain.

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul, ever the strategist, watches you melt with wide eyes, calculating all the ways to “fix” the situation. However, when you start to sob, his business-like demeanor cracks.

“Ah… There, there,” he says, awkwardly patting your head as you slime down his pristine suit. “I assure you, we can handle this… strategically. No need to cry.” Despite his words, Azul’s genuine concern for you is obvious as he holds you.

Floyd Leech:

Floyd thinks your slime form is hilarious. The second you start to melt, he bursts out laughing.

“Whoa! Shrimpy, you're all gooey now!” Floyd teases, poking at your slimy form. But when he sees you crying, his mood shifts in an instant. “Aww, don’t be sad, Shrimpy. I like this version of you, too!”

He wraps himself around you, squeezing you tightly—slime and all.

Jade Leech:

Jade is intrigued by your stress-induced slime form. While he finds it fascinating, he’s also quick to comfort you when you start crying.

“Quite an interesting phenomenon,” Jade muses, wiping away your slimy tears with a handkerchief. “But please, don’t distress yourself. There’s no need for that. I’m right here.” His gentle voice soothes you as he helps you reform.

Kalim Al-Asim:

Kalim is both shocked and amused when you start melting in his arms, but he quickly recovers, hugging you tightly.

“Oh no! You’re turning into slime! Is there something I can do? Wait, I know—let’s throw a ‘Feel Better’ party!” Kalim’s enthusiasm is infectious, but he holds onto you as you cry, offering endless reassurances.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil tries to remain composed when you melt into his arms, though he’s secretly panicking on the inside.

“I suppose this is a normal reaction to stress for you?” he says calmly, even though he’s not sure what to do. He strokes your hair (or, well, slime), patiently waiting for you to calm down. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll help you through this.”

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil’s immediate reaction to your slime form is a mixture of shock and mild horror—at first, he’s concerned about you, but also a bit put out by the mess.

“My robes…” he sighs, but his voice softens as he holds you, tears and slime alike. “You’re allowed to cry. But I refuse to let you stay in this state of disarray.”

He brushes the slime from your face and helps you regain composure, all while managing to maintain his usual grace.

Rook Hunt:

Rook is enchanted by your unique form. The second you melt into his arms, he’s already waxing poetic.

“Ah, mon cher! Even in your most vulnerable state, you are truly magnificent!” Rook exclaims, holding you tenderly. “Worry not, I will be your steadfast support, slime or not.”

Epel Felmier:

Epel is confused when you start to melt, but his protective instincts kick in fast.

“Whoa, whoa! Hang on there!” Epel says, panicking slightly as he tries to keep you together. “You don’t have to be all stressed out around me. Just breathe, alright?”

His attempts to soothe you are clumsy but genuine, and he won’t leave your side until you’re back to your usual self.

Idia Shroud:

Idia’s first instinct is to panic. You’re melting? This is definitely not something he can handle without freaking out.

“Oh no… oh no… this is bad,” he mutters, but when he sees your tears, he stops. “Uh, hey, don’t cry! I mean, sure, you’re all gooey, but… you’re still cool.”

Idia awkwardly pats your head, unsure of how to handle the situation but doing his best to comfort you.

Ortho Shroud:

Ortho doesn’t panic like his brother. Instead, he’s immediately analyzing the situation with his scanners.

“Are you alright?” Ortho asks, his voice full of genuine concern. “Don’t worry, I can help you! Maybe a temperature adjustment will help stabilize your form?” He hovers near, ready to assist however he can.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus finds your slime form fascinating, though he’s more concerned about your well-being. When you melt into his arms, he cradles you gently.

“There, there, child of man,” Malleus murmurs softly, his voice like a calm lullaby. His powerful arms hold you securely as your slime tears drip onto his cloak. “You need not fret. I will ensure your safety, no matter your form.”

His dragon-like gaze watches you intently, the smallest smile forming at the corners of his lips as your sobs quiet. "Even in your most... fluid state, you are still precious to me."

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia finds your slime form to be amusing, but he’s quick to adapt. When you start melting in his arms, he lets out a cheerful laugh.

“Ah, how adorable! Don’t worry, my dear. I’ve seen stranger things in my time.” He pats your head reassuringly, not fazed at all by the situation. “Cry all you need to. I’ll be here when you’re ready to solidify again.”

Lilia hums an old fae lullaby while he holds you, and his mischievous side takes a backseat as he comforts you through the tears.

Silver:

Silver blinks slowly when you start to melt in front of him, but instead of panicking, he gently wraps his arms around your slumping form, not minding the slime at all.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice steady and calm, “it’s okay. I’m here.” His hand moves to stroke your slime-morphed head with gentle care, his touch soothing despite your current state.

“I don’t know exactly how to help,” he admits, “but I’ll stay with you until you feel better.” He pulls you closer, letting you rest in his lap while he hums softly, his presence grounding you. “You don’t have to hold it all in. I’ll keep watch.”

His quiet, reassuring demeanor slowly makes you feel more at ease. He may not say much, but the safety you feel with him speaks volumes.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek is utterly baffled when you start to melt into slime in his arms. For a moment, he just freezes, wide-eyed, trying to process what’s happening. Then he bursts out, “WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE YOUNG MASTER—!!”

His voice is loud, but as he sees the tears in your slimy state, his tone shifts—just a little. “H-Human! Cease this display at once! You cannot fall apart like this!” But even as he says that, he’s awkwardly attempting to gather your melted form without dropping any of it, his hands trembling slightly.

His frustration shows, but underneath it, he’s worried. “I—! Ugh, fine! Stay like this if you must! Just know I... I shall remain by your side, no matter what form you take! So, compose yourself, human!”

His stubborn loyalty shines through, and despite the bluster, you can tell he’s genuinely concerned. It’s a chaotic kind of support, but it’s Sebek, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Rollo Flamme:

Rollo is startled and somewhat appalled by your sudden transformation into slime, but he masks his discomfort with a dignified air.

"This... is highly irregular," he mutters, though his hands remain gentle as they hold you. "But I suppose even someone like you has their moments of weakness."

Despite his words, there's a hint of warmth in his actions, and he stays by your side until you're feeling better, his cold demeanor melting just a bit.

Neige LeBlanche:

Neige’s reaction is pure concern when you start to melt. He immediately wraps his arms around you, holding you close despite the slime.

“Oh no, are you okay?” Neige asks, worry etched across his face. “Don’t cry, please! You’re still beautiful, no matter what!”

His words are sincere, and he strokes your back soothingly as you sob, not caring one bit about the slime soaking into his clothes.

Najma Viper:

Najma is quick to comfort you when you start melting in her presence. She’s a bit surprised but reacts with ease.

“Whoa, that’s a neat trick! But hey, no need to cry, okay?” Najma smiles gently, holding you close. “You’re safe with me. We’ll figure this out.”

She’s calm and reassuring, her warmth helping you regain your composure faster than you thought possible.

Dire Crowley:

Crowley dramatically flails his arms when you start melting into slime, completely unprepared for this turn of events.

“Oh dear heavens, my precious student! What calamity has befallen you?” He panics, trying to scoop up your gooey form in a very uncoordinated manner. “No need to cry! Your benevolent headmaster will, um, fix this! Somehow!”

He’s more focused on not getting slime on his fancy coat than actually helping, but he makes a grand show of being concerned, which is as close to comfort as you’re going to get from him.

Divus Crewel:

Crewel’s eyes widen, but he quickly regains his composure.

“Well, this is... unexpected,” he says, eyeing the slime dripping onto his pristine coat. “But emotions, pup, are not something to be ashamed of. Even if they do involve... melting.”

He carefully wipes the slime from his hands, his tone softening. “You’ll pull yourself together soon. We’ll make sure of it. And once you do, we’ll work on controlling that stress—there’s no excuse for letting your emotions ruin your wardrobe.”

He pats your head in a surprisingly gentle manner, his usual sternness fading in the face of your distress.

Mozus Trein:

Trein, with Lucius perched on his shoulder, looks down at you as you begin to melt into a puddle of slime.

“Hmm,” he muses thoughtfully. “This is not something you see every day, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

He crouches down, his expression surprisingly calm. “When one is overwhelmed, their emotions can manifest in unusual ways. It’s important to take a moment and breathe.” He offers a hand, which Lucius bats at. “Compose yourself. You’ll recover, just as we all do from difficult moments.”

It’s unexpectedly wise advice, and his steady presence helps you feel grounded again.

Ashton Vargas:

Vargas is completely caught off guard by your sudden transformation into slime. He stares at you in disbelief before quickly scooping you up with a burst of energy.

“Whoa! That’s some serious stress! But don’t worry, we’ll get you back into shape in no time!” he says, flexing a bicep as if that will somehow solve your problems.

He awkwardly pats your gooey form, his optimism unshaken. “This just means you’ve got some inner strength waiting to burst out! Once you pull yourself together, we’re doing a killer workout to blow off all that steam, okay?”

It’s hard to stay upset with his over-the-top enthusiasm, even in your slime state.

Sam:

Sam chuckles when you start melting, entirely unfazed.

“Well, now, ain’t that something,” he says, leaning on the counter of his shop. “You must be feelin’ all sorts of stress, huh? No worries, I’ve seen worse.”

He grabs a cloth and gently wipes your slime tears. “Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll brew up something that’ll help you feel right as rain? Stress is just like a storm—it’ll pass, and you’ll be stronger for it.”

His easygoing nature and the comforting atmosphere of his shop start to calm you down almost immediately. It’s impossible not to feel better in his presence.

Masterlist

[theonottsbxtch]

PREACHER’S DAUGHTER PT5 | MV1

an: AND WE'RE BACK!! WHO MISSED OUR FAVOURITE LITTLE FAMILY! can't wait to hear what you guys think of this part, i've loved being with them this week, this is a shorter chapter but i've got ideas for what might happen next! lmk if y'all wanna see anything in particular

wc: 3.2k

Theo was four when his parents welcomed his sister, and Max very nearly missed it, if not for Danny.

It had been a normal day at the garage, Max elbow-deep in an engine rebuild, grease staining his hands and his focus entirely on the task at hand. His phone, forgotten on the workbench, buzzed furiously with calls and messages. It wasn’t until Danny came barreling into the shop, panting like he’d just run a marathon, that Max looked up.

“Max! Man, what the hell are you doing?” Danny wheezed, clutching his knees.

Max straightened, wiping his hands on a rag. “Uh, working? What’s wrong with you? You look like you’re dying.”

Danny shot him a glare, pointing accusingly at the phone vibrating incessantly on the workbench. “Your wife is trying to call you! She’s in labour, man! She’s having the baby!”

Max froze, the rag slipping from his fingers. “What?”

“She’s at the hospital! Her aunt’s with her, but you need to move! Now!”

Max’s heart lurched into overdrive. Without a word, he sprinted to the workbench, grabbed his phone, and bolted out the door. “Danny, lock up!” he shouted over his shoulder as he jumped onto his bike.

Danny shook his head, muttering, “You owe me for this one, man.”

Max arrived at the hospital in record time, still in his grease-stained shirt and boots. His wife was mid-contraction when he burst into the room, panting, his face a mixture of guilt and relief.

“You’re here,” she said through gritted teeth, her eyes narrowing slightly before softening at his frazzled appearance.

“I’m here,” he confirmed, rushing to her side and taking her hand. “I’m sorry, angel. My phone was on silent—”

“Save it,” she hissed, squeezing his hand so tightly he thought his bones might break. “You’re here now. Just don’t let go.”

Max didn’t. Not for a second. Hours later, they welcomed a healthy baby girl into the world. Max cried as he held her for the first time, the tiny bundle swaddled in pink resting against his chest. He looked at his wife, her hair damp and her face radiant despite her exhaustion.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re perfect.”

Their daughter, Mary-Ann, came home a few days later to a little house with a white picket fence that they had purchased not long before her birth. It was a modest place, but it was theirs, filled with laughter, love, and the chaos that only a toddler and a newborn could bring.

Theo was adjusting to his new role as a big brother with enthusiasm and curiosity. He followed his parents around, always asking to hold the baby or show her his toys. “She likes dinosaurs, right?” he would ask, clutching his favourite plastic stegosaurus.

“She loves dinosaurs,” Max assured him, grinning as he ruffled Theo’s hair.

Max had seamlessly embraced fatherhood, splitting his time between the garage and his family. He spent his evenings teaching Theo how to kick a football in the back garden and his nights rocking Mary-Ann to sleep.

The house, with its picket fence and flowerbeds lovingly tended by his wife, was the picture of the life Max had never imagined for himself. Yet, here he was, living it and loving every moment.

The day of Mary-Ann’s baptism dawned clear and bright, the kind of perfect day that made everything feel just a little more magical. Their little family was dressed in their Sunday best, Theo proudly wearing a bowtie that his mother had wrestled him into after much negotiation, and Mary-Ann bundled in a delicate white christening gown.

They arrived at the church to find her aunt, Danny, and a few close friends waiting for them, just as they had for Theo’s baptism years ago. Her aunt immediately swooped in to coo over Mary-Ann, her face soft with affection.

“She’s the spitting image of you at this age,” her aunt said warmly, brushing a soft curl away from Mary-Ann’s forehead.

“Let’s hope she doesn’t inherit my teenage rebellion,” she joked, glancing at Max, who chuckled.

The service itself was intimate and beautiful. As the pastor spoke, Theo sat on Max’s lap, squirming occasionally but staying quiet enough to earn whispered praise from both his parents. When it came time for the baptism, Max and his wife stood together at the front of the church, Theo holding onto his mother’s hand while Max held Mary-Ann close.

The pastor asked Theo if he wanted to say anything, and the boy puffed out his chest importantly, his tiny voice ringing out through the quiet chapel. “We’re all gonna be... um... part of Chris-tain-ity now!”

There was a soft chuckle from the congregation, but Theo frowned, frustrated by his own mispronunciation. His brows knitted together, and before anyone could stop him, he muttered under his breath, “Damn it.”

Max’s head snapped around, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at his son. “Where did you hear that, Theo?”

Without hesitation, Theo turned and pointed to Danny, who froze mid-grin. “Uncle Daddy says it all the time.”

The entire room dissolved into laughter, but Max’s expression darkened. “His name is Uncle Danny. Not Daddy,” he corrected firmly. He handed Mary-Ann to his wife with exaggerated care and then fixed Danny with a dangerous look. “Uncle Danny also has five seconds to run.”

Danny’s eyes widened as he stammered, “Now, hold on a second—”

“Five.”

Danny bolted toward the back of the church, nearly tripping over a pew. Max didn’t miss a beat, stepping around the altar and charging after him. Theo laughed hysterically as he watched his father chase Danny out the door, and his mother shook her head, trying to stifle her own giggles.

When Max returned a few minutes later, slightly winded but victorious, Danny trailing behind him with a sheepish grin, the ceremony continued. The pastor, who had been struggling to keep a straight face, resumed his blessing, and little Mary-Ann was baptised without further incident.

As they left the church, Theo clung to Max’s hand, his face lit with excitement. “Daddy, can I chase Uncle Danny next time?”

Max ruffled his hair, smirking. “Not until you’re faster than me, kid.”

The two of them loved the life they had built together and sometimes when Max woke up he had to pinch himself. Just under half a decade ago he was eating dry hotdogs and drinking stale beers in a rundown trailer. Now he was helping his wife. His wife. In the kitchen with his two kids. Not one, two. Max was a father and everyday he woke up he couldn’t really believe. it.

The smell of cinnamon and vanilla wafted through the house as she stood at the counter, carefully icing a tray of perfectly golden cupcakes. Mary-Ann was nestled in her baby chair nearby, happily chewing on a soft toy, and the kitchen felt like the warm, beating heart of their home.

Out in the garage, Max had Theo standing on a small step stool by the workbench, his tiny hands gripping a wrench that was far too big for him. Max crouched beside him, guiding his hands as they worked on an old oil pan together. Theo giggled every time Max made a joke, his high-pitched laughter filling the air.

She wiped her hands on her apron, grabbed a glass of iced tea, and wandered outside to watch her boys. Leaning against the doorframe, she crossed her arms and smiled. “Teaching him how to change oil already? He’s four, Max.”

Max turned, his grease-streaked face lighting up when he saw her. “Hey, never too early to learn the basics, right, buddy?”

Theo nodded enthusiastically, smearing a streak of oil across his cheek as he waved the wrench triumphantly. “Mama, I’m helping!”

“I can see that,” she laughed, walking over and kissing the top of his messy hair.

As her gaze wandered around the garage, it landed on their old motorbike, tucked into the corner, its polished chrome gleaming even in the dim light. Her smile turned into a smirk, and she gestured toward it with her glass. “You know, you’re going to have to sell that death trap.”

Max froze mid-laugh, a look of horror crossing his face. “What? No way. We’ve got so many memories with that bike.”

“We have two kids now, Max.”

He frowned, standing up and crossing his arms. “But what if Theo wants it when he grows up?”

She raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on her hip. “He’s not stepping a foot on that thing.”

Max threw his hands up in exaggerated protest. “Oh, so when it’s us, it’s fine, but when it’s Theo, it’s a problem?”

She grinned, completely unbothered. “Yup.”

Before he could argue further, Danny strolled into the garage, a familiar plastic container in hand. “Alright, where’s the good stuff? I heard there’s baking going on in that kitchen, and you know the deal—Danny gets dibs.”

She laughed, pointing toward the house. “I’ll bring you some in a second. Just made a fresh batch.”

As Danny leaned against the workbench, Max glanced at him, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hey, Danny, you wanna buy that death trap over there?”

Danny raised an eyebrow, glancing at the bike. “How much are we talking?”

Max grinned. “Fifty bucks.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

Max smirked, holding out a hand. “You buy it, but I still get to use it whenever I want.”

Danny laughed, shaking his head but reaching out to shake Max’s hand anyway. “You got yourself a deal, man.”

Max turned to her with a triumphant grin, wiping his greasy hands on his jeans. “See? It’s sold. Problem solved.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head but smiling as she headed back into the house. “You two are impossible.”

As she disappeared into the kitchen, Max knelt back down beside Theo, who looked up at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Daddy, what’s a death trap?”

Max chuckled, ruffling his hair. “It’s something fun that your mom doesn’t like.”

From the kitchen, she called out, “I heard that!”

While she packed up some of her baked goods for Danny she too thought of how lucky she was. How all her prayers had been listened to. How she finally made it out of that house. How she was going to witness all her own kid’s life milestones with joy and love, not hatred and jealousy. 

The morning of Theo’s first day of school, the sunlight streamed through the windows as the family bustled to get ready. Theo stood proudly in his brand-new school uniform, his backpack almost as big as he was. Mary-Ann, her curls tied up in tiny pigtails, was toddling around in her nursery outfit, clutching her stuffed bunny like it was her lifeline.

Their mother, however, was a whirlwind of emotions. She double-checked Theo’s lunchbox for the third time and nearly forgot to zip Mary-Ann’s coat, all while blinking back tears.

“I can’t believe they’re both going,” she murmured, her voice trembling as she fixed Theo’s collar for the tenth time.

Max, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee, tried to hide his grin. “Sweetheart, they’re not moving out. It’s just school and nursery.”

She shot him a glare. “Don’t start with me today, Max.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Come here, buddy,” he said, crouching down to Theo’s level. “You ready for your big day?”

Theo nodded, his little chest puffed out. “I’m gonna make so many friends!”

Max ruffled his hair. “That’s my boy. And you,” he added, turning to Mary-Ann and lifting her into his arms. “You take care of those nursery teachers, alright? Show ‘em who’s boss.”

Mary-Ann giggled, planting a slobbery kiss on his cheek.

After a bittersweet drop-off that left her sniffling the entire car ride home, they returned to their now eerily quiet house. For the first time in years, it was just the two of them.

She walked into the living room, glanced at the toys still scattered around, and sighed heavily, sinking into the couch. “It’s too quiet.”

Max sat beside her, pulling her into his side. “I told you this morning was gonna hit you hard.”

She swatted his chest lightly. “It’s just… I’ve never been in the house without one of them here. It’s so empty.” She buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled. “What if they need me? What if Mary-Ann gets scared? Or Theo forgets his lunch?”

Max chuckled softly, rubbing her back. “Sweetheart, Theo’s got this. The kid’s practically running for class president. And Mary-Ann? She’s gonna have the nursery wrapped around her finger before lunch.”

She peeked at him from behind her hands, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “You think so?”

“I know so.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple.

For a moment, she leaned into him, letting the comfort of his presence soothe her. But the silence of the house pressed in again, making her sigh.

Max pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know, we’ve got the house all to ourselves now.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Max…”

He grinned, running his fingers lightly up her arm. “I’m just saying. We’ve got a whole empty house and a few hours of peace.”

Despite herself, she laughed, smacking his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m practical,” he countered, leaning closer. “We might never get this chance again, angel. Think about it.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes, but her cheeks flushed. “I can’t believe you’re suggesting this right now.”

“I’m just trying to make the most of the quiet,” he teased, his hand slipping around her waist. “And besides, you’re way too stressed. Let me help you relax.”

She laughed despite herself, the weight of the morning momentarily forgotten as he kissed her neck, his stubble tickling her skin.

“You’re ridiculous,” she murmured, tilting her head to meet his lips, her heart finally feeling a little lighter.

And if she counted the exact weeks, that day was how she ended up pregnant with her third and final child.

Nine months later, their family grew again with the arrival of a boy they named Daniel. It was a tribute to Danny, their ever-reliable friend who had, over the years, become less like a buddy and more like an honorary member of the family.

Daniel came into the world with a loud cry and a shock of dark hair, immediately staking his place in the chaos of their household. Mary-Ann, now three and brimming with sass, had proudly declared herself the "boss" of her new baby brother. She often toddled around after him, dragging her favourite stuffed bunny in one hand and fussing over Daniel like a miniature mother.

Theo, at five, took his role as the eldest sibling very seriously. He loved showing off to Mary-Ann and anyone who’d listen about how he could hold his baby brother “without dropping him” (a feat Max closely supervised with a hovering hand). Theo also began peppering Max with endless questions about how cars worked, proudly announcing that he’d take over the garage one day.

The house was louder now, bursting with life and love in every corner. Daniel’s cries, Theo’s endless chatter, and Mary-Ann’s theatrical storytelling meant there was never a dull moment.

Max had learned to juggle bottles, bedtime stories, and car repairs, often collapsing into bed with her at the end of the day, marvelling at the whirlwind their life had become.

On quieter days—though “quiet” was a stretch—she’d watch Max play with the kids in their backyard. Mary-Ann would climb all over him, Theo would ask a million questions about the engine of a toy car, and baby Daniel would sit in his lap, chewing on whatever he could grab.

Sunday mornings had become a cherished tradition for her. Dressing Theo in his little button-up shirts, coaxing Mary-Ann into tights and her favourite frilly dress, and cradling baby Daniel in his soft onesie all felt like sacred rituals. She loved sharing her faith with her children, teaching them the hymns, and watching their faces light up during Sunday school.

But as much as she loved church, there was always a weight to bear. Her parents still attended the same church, their presence lingering like a spectre of the past. While most of the congregation had embraced her family with warmth, her parents had not. They’d sit on the far side of the pews, casting disapproving glares, and every so often, there were whispers—cutting, cruel words spread by those who believed her parents' version of events.

Still, she focused on her children. Theo beamed when he memorised Bible verses, Mary-Ann proudly showed off her colouring pages, and baby Daniel giggled at the choir. Sharing this part of her life with them felt like reclaiming something pure.

That afternoon, the church hosted a children’s Bible study, and she stayed to help with crafts and snacks while Max wrangled the baby. Daniel was perfectly content napping on his dad’s chest while Max sat in the corner, earning approving glances from the other parents for his patience and attentiveness.

As they packed up to leave, her father appeared, stepping out of the shadows like a storm cloud. His eyes were cold, his expression a mask of disdain. He walked past her, close enough that she could feel the venom in his whispered word:

"Whore."

The word cut through her like a knife. She froze, her heart pounding, the air sucked out of the room. Before she could even react, Max’s voice broke the moment.

"Angel, hold Daniel."

She turned to him, startled, as he handed her the baby with a calmness that belied the fire in his eyes. Then, without hesitation, Max spun on his heel and marched toward her father.

The sound of Max’s fist connecting with her father’s jaw was thunderous in the quiet room. Her father staggered back, clutching his face, as gasps rippled through the remaining churchgoers.

Max stood tall, his voice steady but cold. “Don’t you ever call my wife that again. You lost any right to speak to her the day you hurt her and abused your power. She’s a better person than you’ll ever be.”

Her father glared up at Max, but he didn’t dare rise. The weight of his disgrace was palpable as the onlookers murmured, their judgement no longer directed at her but at the man who had insulted his own daughter in a house of worship.

She stood rooted to the spot, Daniel cradled in her arms, her cheeks flushed. She could feel every eye in the room on her, but the only one that mattered was Max’s. He turned back to her, his expression softening, and strode toward her.

Max placed a gentle hand on her back, his touch grounding her. “Let’s go, angel,” he said quietly, his voice carrying none of the anger from moments before.

She nodded, unable to form words, and followed him out, their children close by. As they left the church, she glanced down at Theo and Mary-Ann, both wide-eyed but clutching each other’s hands tightly.

When they got to the car, she took a deep, shaky breath. “Max—”

He cut her off with a kiss to her temple. “Don’t. You don’t owe him anything. Not even your anger.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she leaned into him, Daniel squirming lightly in her arms. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Max tilted her chin up so she was looking at him. “You and these kids are my family. No one, not even him, gets to treat you like that.”

taglist: @sinofwriting @le-le-lea @vanicogh @iamred-iamyellow @rayaskoalaland @spookyanamurdock @iimplicitt @hellowgoodbye @maximuminfluencerstarlight @lottalove4evelyn @piceous21 @ladscarlett @leclerc13 @linnygirl09 @labelledejourr @cmleitora @fortunapre @felicityforyou @isagrace22 @bookishnerd1132 @formulaal @mastermindbaby @daddyslittlevillain @inmynotes63 @litllefox @hollstopia

[austinbutlerslovers]

The Chase

Label Mature 18+

🎃 Kinktober One Shot

Summary Benny Cross chases you through the streets on his motorcycle but once he catches you the fun really begins.

🧡Depraved Smut🧡 Dubcon• fingering •P in V• orgasm 🔗 Master List

🎂 Happy Birthday @austinbutlerfly 🎂 (have a fun day ☺️) 📖 Proof reader @purejasmine

@megangovier Thank you so much it’s perfect for October 🧡

The Chase

The autumn night air is filled with excitement, the streets of Chicago alive for a parade. People are cheering and laughing, their voices rising in excitement as the floats glide by.

But you have no interest in the light festivities, you are looking for a different kind of thrill.

You move swiftly through the crowded sidewalks, dodging groups of people, the cool breeze biting at your skin.

The music fills the air loudly as people clap along, but you keep your head down, weaving through the chaos.

You walk into a crowded diner, the smell of fries and coffee filling the air as the usual crowd bustles in and out.

You go straight to the jukebox, flipping through the vinyls trying to make a selection—and that’s when you see him the moment he walks in.

—Benny Cross

He was impossible to miss, all swagger and confidence, his leather jacket on his broad shoulders like a second skin.

The jean vest he wore over his jacket wasn’t just for show either—it bore the unmistakable insignia of his biker crew, the Vandals.

They were infamous in Chicago, the name carrying weight in each corner of the city, and everyone knew to keep their head down as he walked past.

But Benny was the kind of trouble you couldn’t ignore—handsome in a way that made you look twice, and tonight, that trouble set his eyes directly on you.

He scanned the diner as he came in, looking at you for just a moment, a slow, knowing smile on his lips.

And that was all it took.

Maybe it was the challenge, or maybe it was just the way his eyes lingered on you for that one moment, but you were mesmerized.

You should’ve left well enough alone, you should’ve looked away, but something in you couldn’t help it—the thrill, the danger, the way Benny Cross made your heart race.

So as you walk past him, you make sure to bump into him, casual enough not to raise suspicion but just enough to get close.

Your hand slips into his back pocket with a practiced ease, your fingers curling around the leather of his wallet. He doesn’t notice, not immediately anyway—because who would ever steal from Benny Cross?

By the time you walk was past him, its already in your jacket, your heart pounding.

You dont look back. You couldn’t.

You know you shouldn’t have done it, but it doesn’t matter now. What matters is you got away with getting your quick thrill… or so you thought.

The parade has just ended, and the streets are littered with streamers and confetti, the crowd slowly dispersing as people head home in small groups, their laughter and voices carrying into the night.

-That’s when you hear it.

The echo of Benny’s motorcycle roaring through the streets behind you, the engine a low, menacing growl that cuts right through the cool October air.

Your heartbeat quickens—because you know he’s figured it out and you know exactly what he wants now.

-He’s after you!

Without warning, you break into a sprint, quickly weaving through clusters of people, your breaths coming in fast, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

You can hear Benny’s bike as he tracks you and he’s getting close—too close.

And that’s when you realize you’ve run too far ahead of the crowd, singling yourself out.

—Bad luck.

Benny spots you right away, the sound of his bike engine revving kicks your adrenaline into overdrive.

Gasping for breath you see an alley ahead and push your self faster, your heart pounding against your ribs as you dash in.

You’re trying to put as much distance between you and Benny as possible, but his engine only grows louder and you throw a glance over your shoulder to be sure.

—Bad idea.

Benny is right there, his eyes locked on you as he leans in on his bike turning into the alley, his headlight illuminating your every move.

He isn’t just catching up—he’s on you!

Every time the bike revs, it sends a jolt of panic through you the sound echoing loudly off the alley walls pushing you forward, making your heart hammer even harder in your chest.

You exhale, glancing around desperately for some escape route.

Ahead, the alley narrows, the walls closing in, dumpsters and crates forming an obstacle in your path and you know he won’t be able to follow you through on that bike.

You easily weave through the clutter, your breaths coming in quick as you do.

But just as you clear the blockage, the sound of his engine cuts abruptly, and you hear the heavy thud of his boots hitting the pavement.

—He’s coming after you on foot!

Benny Cross is running full-speed at you, his footsteps pounding against the pavement, and he’s much faster than you, he’s right behind you!

“Hey fucking stop!” he shouts, his voice dark with malice, the sound cutting through the alley.

Your chest is heaving, your veins going cold with dread seeing the alley closing to a dead end.

Your hand goes into your pocket, feeling the wallet you’d taken, wondering if it was all worth it now.

Before you can make another move, Bennys hand grips the collar of your jacket, yanking you back. You stumble forward gasping for breath, as his other arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against him.

“I said stop!” Benny yells, turning and pushing you against the cold brick wall of the alley.

His body cages you in, his grip firm and unrelenting as his steely blue eyes burn with a fierce anger, making it clear he isn’t letting you get away.

“What do you think you’re doing, hm?” he asks, his eyes searching your face in the dim lighting.

Your chest is heaving, still trying to catch your breath, and you don’t even answer, feeling the adrenaline still coursing through you, your pulse thundering in your ears.

There’s a shift in his expression as he looks at you, his intrigue growing as his gaze lingers on your features and then his eyes slowly trail down your body.

His hand reaches into your jacket pocket, fingers brushing against yours as he pulls his stolen wallet from your grasp, his gaze lingering intensely as he holds it up between you.

“You thought you could get away with this?” he asks, his voice laced with intrigue as he returns it securely to his back pocket.

You shoot him a defiant look, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“Maybe …I wasn’t trying to get away,” you retort, your breath catching feeling a wave of heat flood through you having him so close.

He’s pressed against you, the scent of leather and a faint trace of smoke clinging to him, making him even more intoxicating.

“What were you trying to do then?” he asks, his voice dropping lower, his gaze deepening as it sweeps over you, taking in every small reaction.

You look up at him, your face flushed as your lips part, because in the midst of everything, the truth is undeniable—you are drawn to him—irresistibly attracted to his danger in every way, and now you have him.

He catches it, that spark of attraction, his eyes shifting with a subtle recognition as the tension between you changes into a different kind of charge.

His gaze lingers on your parted lips as you hesitate to answer and a slow knowing grin spreads across his face.

He leans in close, so close that his lips brush the shell of your ear. “The next time you want my attention,” he whispers, the words slow, savoring the moment as his grip on your jacket loosens “…just ask for it.”

His words hit you like a spark to kindling, igniting a rush of heat that spreads through your entire body. His attention is exactly what you want.

His eyes lock with yours now fully aware of the effect he has on you and his fingers lightly begin to trail down your body with an agonizing slowness.

His touch is soft, almost intimate, as his hand glides down to your waist but it carries the weight of his dominance—an unspoken reminder that he’s caught you and isn’t about to let you forget it.

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breathing, your heart racing in your chest as his hand lingers, just barely grazing your side, the contact sending sparks of heat through you.

“I should be mad,” he muses, sliding his thumb along your waist, testing the limits of how far he can push.

“But I think I like the way you play,” he reveals, his fingertips slipping into the waist band of your skirt.

His touch is confident and knowing, making it impossible to ignore his intentions, and the way he looks at you makes it clear—he’s in control, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

You bite your lip, the urge to lean into his touch becoming overwhelming as a surge of adrenaline rushes through you reminding you of the chase that led you here.

“You like playing with danger?” he asks, his voice low, his gaze flicking down to your lips and back to your eyes, and the way he looks at you tells you everything you need to know.

—He’s going to take what he wants.

You open your mouth to answer, but the words die on your lips as he says, “Well, now you’ve got it,” his voice rough and heavy with need and you don’t even try to stop him as he leans in, his lips claiming yours in a hard, possessive kiss.

His other hand dips to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him and you gasp against his mouth as his hand slips lower, his fingers grazing your panties as if daring you to deny him.

“You should’ve known better,” he whispers against your lips, his voice dark and intense. “Taking what’s mine… this is what happens.” He confirms his hand gliding lower.

You barely have time to react before his fingers push their way into your panties. The alley beyond you becoming nothing but a blur as his fingers thrust into you rough and urgent, like he can’t get enough.

His mouth moves to your neck, trailing hot kisses along your skin as he thrusts them even harder inside you, the slick wetness coating his fingers.

You let out a low moan, feeling how soaked you are as the pressure builds between your thighs, his touch igniting something deep and uncontrollable within you.

“You like getting caught?” he rasps, his voice low and taunting, his breath hot and heavy against your ear and his fingers thrust faster, relentless now, his control slipping as his own need takes over.

“Yes,” you manage to gasp, the word barely a whisper, almost lost in the rush of sensation overwhelming you.

“I thought so,” he whispers, his lips grazing your ear, his fingers thrusting faster bringing you close to the edge.

“Gonna teach you a lesson about me” he says with a rough grip pulling your thigh up and pressing you harder against the brick wall, his body closing the space between you.

“You’re gonna take this lesson well,” he rasps as his other hand moves quickly, yanking down his zipper.

In one swift motion, he pulls your panties aside, his fingers slipping away, only to be replaced by the hard urgent tip of his cock.

You cry out as he pushes into you with one powerful thrust. He’s raw and unyielding—his pace rushed as his body claims yours without hesitation.

A moan rises in your throat, your breath quickening as your muscles tighten around him. Each thrust igniting a fire in you as he takes control.

“You wanna take something from me?... I’ll give you something to take,” he whispers against your ear, his voice dark and teasing.

With a sudden forceful thrust, he drives into you harder, pressing you firmly against the rough brick wall and a loud moan escapes your lips, as the pleasure floods through you. 

The heat of him, the roughness of him, the way his lips claim yours again—it all blurs together until you can’t think, can’t focus on anything but the way he makes you feel.

The tension coils tighter and tighter within you until his intensity is consuming every thought, every breath.

Before you know it, you begin to orgasm, your face pressing to his shoulder as desperate cries escape your lips feeling the waves of pleasure over take you.

Your inner walls tighten on his cock pulsing with each thrust, and you begin to loudly moan against him drawing him in deeper as you ride out the high.

Benny groans from his chest as he pulls out, his grip tightening on your hip.

His other hand wraps around his cock, roughly stroking it as he comes hard, his release spilling in thick streams along the alley way floor.

For a long moment, neither of you move, breaths still heavy and uneven as you come down from the intensity of the moment.

Benny leans back slightly, as he catches his breath. A smug grin on his lips as if he’s just won some kind of prize.

His fingers linger on your waist for just a second longer, as if to remind you he could take more if he wanted.

Then with a satisfied smile, he leans close, his lips grazing your ear.

“Next time you think of taking something from me you better ask first.” He whispers as he tucks his cock away in his jeans. “Or you better be ready to handle the consequences.” He adds with a wicked grin.

His words are a challenge, laced with danger and excitement, making your pulse race as you feel the weight of his promise linger in the air between you.

As you begin to straighten your skirt he steps back, that same easy confidence in his stride as he heads back toward his motorcycle.

He gives you one last look as he kick starts the engine, his grin still firmly in place, the silent promise in his eyes.

The intensity of his gaze makes it clear—he’s daring you to push him, and you know he’s more than ready to make you pay for it.

The roar of his engine echoes down the alley as he rides off, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding in your chest, and you bite your lip as you watch him go, knowing full well this isn’t the last time you’ll make Benny Cross chase after you.

🎃 End 🎃

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️Always Tag Me List @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @lindszeppelin @abswifey @ausssbutlershortstories @magicovento @umika @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @psycheetamore @aust-een @faegoddessog @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler @hardcoredisneynerd @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @elvismylove04 @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @feralgodmothers @finley-08 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @majestyjade @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @ifuckindontknow @kaelatargaryen @darknightmareobject

🏍️ Benny Cross Tag List @ashelybutler @landlockedmermaid77 @jvanilly @oceanablue @12joeywheelerfangirl @presley1992 @rose-deathman @sillylittlethrowaway @lillypink @faephoria @fallout-girl219

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing: Jey Uso x f!Reader x Rhea Ripley 🖤 Summary: Jey and his girlfriend get the surprise of their lives when Rhea decides to join them. 🛑 Warnings: NSFW. Threesome (m/f/, f/f, m/f/f), oral m and f receiving, thigh-riding, sex, cum, dirty talk, marijuana, alcohol 18+ 🖤 Notes: Since there are two women involved, it’s difficult to leave the Reader nameless, so I’m just gonna call her Baby. 🖤 Taglist: @mselenalovebug. If you'd like to be added, please click here! 🖤 Requested By: @tori143da. Hope you enjoy! 🖤 MASTERLIST

The drinks were flowing, a few joints were passed around, and the party was in full swing to celebrate Jey’s championship win. His girlfriend, Baby, of course, was on his lap, arm around his shoulders, favorite drink in hand, pink Yeet sunglasses shielding her bleary eyes, taking the scene in around her. Rhea was on the other side of Jey, just over the fence of buzzed, giggling at something Damian, who was sitting on the floor beside her, spliff in hand, said. Various superstars were sprinkled throughout the moderately sized hotel room, making the space seem that much smaller, the air that much thicker, and the tension that much more palpable. She knew she and Jey would fuck before the night was over, and she’d bet her lunch money that he’d want to wear the title while they did it, which was perfectly fine with her, considering how incredibly fine her boyfriend looked wearing that belt. Especially with the new blue embellishments. 

But as often as she was checking out Jey, her eyes couldn’t help but drift to Rhea. The raven-haired beauty was often a topic of conversation between the couple, and just as often, an aphrodisiac of sorts, since seeing her in painted-on leggings or barely-there ring gear sent the couple’s libido into overdrive. They talked about her while they fucked—Jey fucking his girlfriend while Rhea rode her face was a popular fantasy, and a close second was having the women make out around Jey’s cock. But really, anything involving Rhea Ripley was enough to make them both cum all over each other.

Baby took a moment to appreciate the beautiful fantasy that was lying between Rhea’s brawny thighs and licking her into oblivion, and when she came back to herself and the hotel room and Jey’s lap, she realized that not only had she been staring at Rhea, but Rhea had noticed, and was staring right back. She licked those thick, perfect lips that she’d recently cleared of all makeup, and winked. She winked, and Baby nearly fell to the floor. Rhea nodded, and it was like she was a tractor beam, drawing the other woman to her like a magnet as she slid off Jey’s lap and onto Rhea’s. Her boyfriend’s hands held tight to her waist until he figured out exactly where she was going, and then he relinquished his grip. The people who noticed whooped and hollered, but the women paid them no mind. Rhea wrapped an arm around Baby’s waist, cradling the smaller woman’s face, long nails tickling her cheek. Baby delicately pressed their lips together, testing the waters, and Rhea responded with vigor, deepening the kiss, hand slipping from Baby’s cheek to the back of her head, grip tightening on her hip.

“Damn, girl,” Jey growled into her ear, and she moaned into Rhea’s mouth. “Want me to kick ‘em out?”

She and Rhea opened their eyes at the same time, pausing their kiss to grin at each other, and they nodded in unison. Jey was up immediately, herding their guests to the door, letting them know they didn’t have to go back to their rooms, but they had to get the hell out of this one. Damian took a moment to have a private conversation with Jey, and Baby could only guess he was asking to stay and watch. She couldn’t blame him—he’d watched she and Jey fuck before while he jerked off in the chair across the room. But Jey turned him down without discussing it with either woman, and the smiles and relaxation that swept over them told him he’d made the right decision.

He returned to his original seat after removing his shirt and grabbing the Intercontinental title from the bed so he could then strap it around his waist. “Why don’t y’all come over here?” he asked. “I promise y’all keep kissin’.”

The women snickered, kissing just a moment longer before turning to Jey. They crawled over to him, each straddling a thigh, and Jey’s widened eyes were almost comical. Rhea and Baby seemed to be feeding off one another already as they leaned forward to kiss his cheek, down his jaw and to his neck where their kisses and licks were more out of sync and therefore more stimulating. Jey thrust his hips at the air as he turned his head to kiss his girlfriend, their tongues doing most of the work, and her own hips started to grind on his meaty thigh. Rhea moaned at the display, sucking on Jey’s neck, and everybody felt when her hips gyrated.

“Come here, come here,” Jey mumbled, clutching the women’s chins gently as he directed all three of their tongues to meet in the middle. Baby whined, Rhea purred, and Jey chuckled. “Fuck yeah,” he said, gently separating them and urging them to continue kissing. “Now ride these thighs.”

The women’s tongues collided before their lips, and as the kiss intensified, their hips naturally, and slowly at first, rocked back and forth. Jey’s hands were all over both of them, ultimately fondling their breasts where he discovered both of Rhea’s nipples were pierced. “Oh, my God,” Jey gushed, “touch ‘em, Baby. Knew they was pierced.”

Rhea and Baby giggled.

“You didn’t think they were?” Rhea asked her.

“Honestly, if I sat down and started thinking about what you have pierced and where, I would never get back up again,” Baby said, blushing. Rhea smiled, taking Baby’s hands in hers so she could situate them on her breasts, pressing the palms of her hands against the bars piercing her nipples. “Fuck,” Baby whispered, squeezing, groping, circling a fingertip around a permanently hard nipple. “You have no idea how long I’ve—” She glanced at Jey, and he removed the Yeet sunglasses from her face to place them on his own, pushing them up his nose with his index finger, oozing sexual prowess by doing the simplest—sometimes nerdiest—things. “—we’ve,” she corrected, “been waiting so fucking long for this. For you.” She leaned forward, peppering kisses all along Rhea’s jawline, carefully tugging on her nipples, smirking at the moan escaping Rhea’s perfect mouth.

“How long?” Rhea quietly asked.

“A long time,” Baby replied. “The night you won the title … the party after Priest won his … Jey and I been trying to land you for a while.”

“Aww, you’ve been pining after me,” Rhea teased, winking at Jey.

“We didn’t wanna put no pressure on you,” Jey said. “She tried to seduce you,” he pointed at Baby, “I tried to seduce you,” he gestured to himself. “But you just wasn’t havin’ it.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Rhea uttered.

“That’s right,” Jey said proudly, a hand on each of their hips. “But what I really wanna know is … why y’all stop ridin’ my thighs, huh?”

The women shared a uniformly diabolical grin, and they positioned their hands on his chest, Jey’s girlfriend clutching the title at his waist, and they resumed rocking and rolling their hips on his muscular thighs. The champion encouraged them, telling them how sexy they looked, suggesting they kiss, and ultimately he brought each of them to him for a sweeping smooch.

“You know where else I want these tongues?” he whispered to one and then looked at the other.

The women glanced at each other. “He is the champion,” Rhea said, eyes sliding back to Jey. “The champion should always get everything he wants.”

Baby breathed a laugh as she nuzzled Rhea’s cheek. “The champion should be worshiped,” she breathed, sucking Rhea’s earlobe into her hot mouth.

“Absolutely,” the Aussie agreed, and Baby applied gentle pressure to the back of her neck, mere encouragement, and Rhea went the rest of the way to meet Jey’s lips once more. His girlfriend gasped, having imagined this scene plenty of times, but she’d never anticipated it being so fucking hot. She could see their tongues slithering together and she felt a gush between her legs, and she didn’t want to be the first one to cum. She slid down Jey’s leg until her knees met the carpet, her jaw not too far behind as she now had a front row seat to Rhea’s flawless ass, the toned muscles bouncing with each flex. As this was Jey’s night, she chose to let him direct, and what he wanted was their tongues.

Baby unleashed Jey’s still-hardening cock, mouth instantly filling with saliva like Yogi Bear sniffing out a picnic basket. As Jey and Rhea continued kissing and Rhea continued riding his thigh, Baby engulfed Jey’s cock in her searing mouth without warning. He thrust intuitively, gagging her, and she snickered at his neediness, the laugh dying in her throat when she saw that Jey had lifted Rhea’s shirt, her pierced tits on display for the first time. His fingers were swiping back and forth across the bars, Rhea’s hips picking up speed, and Baby knew what was about to happen before Jey did—he lunged at her breast, sucking the jewelry into his mouth, and Rhea threw her head back, crying out. Snaking a hand inside her leggings and panties, Baby’s fingers delved within her aching folds, moaning around Jey’s dick as she applied gentle pressure to the little nub.

Rhea made her way down Jey’s body, both women squeezing between his legs, and this was the moment he chose to remove the sunglasses. Baby showed Rhea the position Jey usually liked her in when she was sucking him off—on her hands and knees, back arched, no hands, only mouth. Rhea recreated everything, down to the enchanted grin on her plump lips, and Jey scrubbed his hands over his face, shaking his head. The women waited for him to peek through his fingers before they attacked his rigid, weeping cock with lips and tongues, nibbles and sucks, and the noises Jey was making Baby had never heard before.

“Goddamn,” he groaned, hands on the back of their heads, and he held their mouths in place, watching with bared teeth and a gleaming grill as their lips smacked around the head of his dick. “Alright, give me them hands,” he growled, “gotta give this title some love. Keep suckin’, though. Don’t ever stop suckin’.”

Rhea and Baby laughed, each lifting a hand to clutch the gold and blue belt, their mouths continuing to work him over. Rhea took his dick in her mouth, cheeks hollowing as she sucked, and Baby lowered her body so she could suck and lick at the underside of his cock. She lifted his balls from his pants, slurping each of them, flicking her tongue along the soft skin. Her eyes rose after several minutes of adoration, pleading silently to Jey as she cast her eyes at Rhea. He caressed her cheek, his cock all but resting on her face as Rhea never stopped sucking above her, just as he’d ordered.

“You want that pussy, don’t you?” Jey growled.

“So fucking bad,” Baby whimpered, desperately licking every inch of his cock her tongue could reach.

Jey granted her request, allowing them to remove their mouths from his dick, but they had to crawl across the floor to get to the bed. Baby in leggings, and Rhea in spandex shorts, Jey groaned and hollered watching them obey him, and he remained on the couch as Baby helped Rhea onto her back on the mattress, head on the pillows. It was finally her turn to pull a pierced nipple into her mouth, she and Rhea combining to make noises that would rival any pornographic film. Baby made her way down Rhea’s sculpted, tattooed body, struggling a bit to get her shorts over her ass as she pulled them down and off. No panties, and Baby thought she died for a moment. 

“God, you’re perfect,” Baby extolled, hands gliding up Rhea’s smooth legs, her inner thighs, applying gentle pressure, allowing the former world champion to spread her legs on her own.

Rhea giggled, her own hand slipping down her body, middle finger dipping into her soaking pussy. Her bright eyes were mere slits as she watched Baby watch her touch herself for a long moment before reaching out to Baby with her drenched fingers. Baby sucked them into her mouth, licking every bit of Rhea’s juices, at the same time wiggling her own digits inside Rhea’s pussy.

“Fuck,” Rhea cried out, eyes closing, back bowing. Her fingers fell from Baby’s mouth so she could massage her breasts, pulling at the bars through her nipples.

Baby glanced over her shoulder at Jey. Dick in hand, he was jerking furiously, and she couldn’t believe he’d held back this long without joining them. She winked at him, he blew her a kiss, and the moment she returned her attention to the beautiful woman with her legs spread, delicious, wet pussy on display, she covered Rhea’s entire cunt with her mouth and sucked. Rhea groaned, Baby’s tongue writing her name in her pussy, and she had to grip her thighs to keep them separated, lest she be choked to death.

Baby’s brows rose and her eyes lifted when she felt a new weight on the mattress. Jey was crawling across the bed on his knees, still clutching his stiff cock, and he placed his other hand on Rhea’s head. Her eyes opened, instantly zeroing in on his erection, and her jaw dropped, accepting him into her mouth again. Baby stared as Jey pumped in and out of Rhea’s mouth, slurping her slick at the same time, and she reached between her legs once again to provide herself some relief. She was more of a giver, but sometimes—like when Rhea Ripley and Jey Uso were in her bed at the same time—she needed a little attention too.

“Don’t you worry that beautiful brain,” Jey said to her. “Soon as you make this girl cum, I’m’a fuck that pussy.” He looked down at Rhea. Her cheeks were pink and collapsed as her mouth created a vacuum around his dick, eyes closed, and she was tugging at her nipples. When she heard him speak, those sparkling eyes unlocked and she smiled, mouth still full. “And then she gonna make you cum again,” he promised.

It wasn’t much longer before Rhea was writhing, virtually sobbing, and flooding Baby’s mouth with her succulent juices. Jey pulled his cock from Rhea’s mouth and changed everyone’s position. Baby removed her clothes and lay on her back, legs open. Rhea guided Jey’s cock inside her dripping pussy. There were three of them, but as soon as her boyfriend was fucking her, Baby had to wrap her arms around his shoulders, pressing her lips to his. They both loved to fuck other people, but they loved to fuck each other more. 

“I can taste her fuckin’ cum in your mouth,” he growled, shoving his tongue back for more tastes.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” she mumbled against his lips.

Baby laid back on the bed, breasts bouncing with each thrust from Jey, and Rhea struggled for a moment to catch one in her mouth. The girls giggled, sharing a few kisses, and they heard Jey inhale deeply through his nostrils. They both looked at him, their smiles fading as his muscles flexed, as the gold and blue on the title still around his waist reflected the light around them. His hands were at the backs of Baby’s knees, holding her legs open as he fucked her, and Rhea started to move. She straddled Baby’s face, leisurely lowering her pussy onto her mouth, and took hold of her legs from Jey. 

“Now fuck her,” Rhea purred, “so I can watch.”

Baby groaned, gorging on Rhea’s pretty pussy, hips rolling with Jey’s rhythm to get his cock deeper inside her. Despite the slurping sounds she was making, she was able to hear the smacking from Rhea and Jey’s lips. His pounding sped up, the bed now rocking against the wall, and Rhea began to grind on Baby’s face.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum again,” Rhea moaned. Baby clutched her hips and her mouth kicked into overdrive.

“Fuck yeah,” Jey breathed. “Cum all over my girl face. She love that shit.” Baby whined, body squirming, her own orgasm culminating deep within her. She could swear he was in her stomach, drawing a moan from her each time he hammered into her.

“Baby, shit,” Rhea howled, and the woman under her was gifted another stream of her cum, just as tasty, even not more so, as the first time.

Rhea quivering above her, coating the bottom half of her face with her essence, combined with Jey’s now inconsistent pummeling, Baby clenched around Jey’s pulsating cock and came. Her screams were muffled by Rhea’s pussy as she couldn’t help but continue to eat as she rode out her orgasm, and her boyfriend’s thrusts began to stutter moments before he pulled out.

“Come here,” he panted, “bring your pretty faces down here.”

The women maneuvered their bodies into position—lying on their backs next to each other, heads nearly hanging off the bed—as Jey jerked his drenched dick. He stepped forward, and Baby’s tongue snaked out of her mouth to lick at his balls. Rhea followed, and Jey roared before dropping string after string of cum onto each woman’s face. Before he was even finished unloading, Rhea and Baby were lapping his cum off each other’s cheeks and lips and noses and foreheads.

“Holy fuck,” Jey rasped, falling back onto the couch. “Y’all bout to give me a damn heart attack.”

[darklordofthesimp]

Clement (John Price x Reader)

Can be read as a standalone. Part 1 here. 

Summary: John continuously ends up in your medical bay but now it’s his turn to take care of you. 

A/N: These two are my fluffy couple and even that I can’t manage

Category: Mutual Pining || Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Graphic Language || Anxiety || Themes of PTSD

“Don’t take this the wrong way, John. But, I really don’t like how much I’ve been seeing you.” 

Captain John Price raised a brow, groaning as he situated himself in his usual seat. The man was soaked in blood, a sight that you’d begrudgingly gotten used to but still hated. He had no right to take offence, he was in your office every other week with varying injuries. The way you saw it, he was in that office more than you were. 

“Kinda hard not to take that the wrong way, darlin’.” He chortled as he readjusted his bad arm, the noise just as pained as it was amused. 

“Saint,” you corrected. 

“Saint,” Price rolled his eyes. 

You sat down in front of him, a huff pulling from your chest as you took him in. There was a long moment as you both stared at each other, silent and almost comical. 

“I’m sick of your shit, Captain.” You gave him a deadpan glare. 

John scoffed, “oh, don’t be like that.” 

“No, seriously ” you threw your hands up, “You owe me a drink.”

Price’s eyes widened in disbelief but you ignored him as you slowly dabbed antiseptic across his wounds. You could feel the muscles beneath your fingers tense as he fought to find the words.

“I’ve been asking you to let me buy you a drink for weeks!” John hissed, his eyes flitting cautiously to the doorway as a nurse walked past. He didn’t want to compromise your professional reputation, no matter how much you drove him crazy. 

You only raised your nose at him, “well, that’s because I don’t mix business and pleasure.” 

“And now is the exception?”

“No, now is the payment for putting up with you and your accident-prone kids’ fuckery.” 

Price laughed, it was full-bodied and warm and something that you could listen to forever. Your hands faltered in their work. Usually, you were steadfast- but John Price always had you on the edge of your seat with a pounding heart and a fuzzy mind. 

“Well, then.” The Captain conceded, relaxing a little more into his chair. “I’d better make it a damn good drink.” 

You hummed your agreement, leaning in closer to get a better look at the wounds on his neck. 

“A damned nice place too,” you said distractedly, “no grubby bars for this one.” 

How did he even manage shit like this? You were so in awe of the strangeness of his injuries, that you hadn’t realized the effect your proximity had on the good Captain. Your words whispered across the skin of his neck and jaw like a gentle caress. The knowledge that he could kiss you right now simply by tilting his head down a little, it drove him insane. 

“Of course not,” he rasped, “I’d take you somewhere fancy. One of them nice cocktail bars, maybe.”

You smiled as you tended to him, your gaze glued to where your hands worked their magic. You couldn’t have seen the way his eyes flickered from your brows to your lashes, and then to your lips. You wouldn’t have noticed the way he clenched his jaw and prayed to anybody who was listening that you weren’t talking shit.

“I’d love that,” you murmured, pulling your touch from his skin to reach for the wound dressings. He craved the warmth immediately. “You’d be in a suit and all.” 

Price chuckled, partly at what you’d said and partly by how distractedly you spoke. 

“Is this all part of your master plan to see me dressed up?” The Captain said jokingly. His heart stopped when you finally flicked your gaze up to his. 

It was at that moment that you realized just how close you sat to him, your mouth going dry at the proximity. You could smell him so clearly as if all your senses had suddenly kicked into overdrive. John always smelt like pine and tobacco. You wondered if it was just his body spray mixed with those damned cigars, but part of you knew it had to be some pheromone that drove you crazy. 

“Funny,” you regained your bearings, leaning back in your seat to observe him. “I was going to accuse you of the same thing.” 

Those ocean-hued eyes sparkled with mirth, roving over your features as if he were committing them to memory. John had a way of seeing beneath all the armour you wore, but somehow it never left you with the sense that you were defenseless. He always made you feel seen but safe. He was comforting. 

“Won’t lie to you, love. I’d give anything to see you all dressed up,” John said honestly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

You raised a brow challengingly but the Captain only watched you, as comfortable as ever and confident in his words. After a long moment of silence, you finally spoke. 

“A lot of these boys would,” you rolled your eyes. “Not exactly invoking confidence here.” 

John straightened in his seat a little. 

“Well that’s the problem, innit?” He said, shooting you a meaningful look. “They’re boys, not men.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, maybe with something smart or clever or anything really that would throw the good Captain off kilter. Instead, you were interrupted by a woman leaning in through your doorway. It was the new nurse that had transferred from another unit only a few days ago.  

“Saint?” She said softly, eyes flicking between John and yourself. “Just wanted to pop in and let you know that this is the last patient on your roster.” 

You smiled, trying to ignore the way that her hand sat precariously on your door handle. The stomach-churning realization that she didn’t know the protocol for your office was making it difficult for you to speak. 

“Awesome, thanks Angie.” You choked out.

As you opened your mouth to remind her to leave the door open, the woman skittered away as fast as she’d appeared. You watched as the door swung shut, anxiety roiling in the pits of your gut. The sound of it clicking closed felt like the final nail in the coffin. 

You took in a deep, calming breath. “Lovely.” 

Price stood up from his seat instantly, resting a hand against your shoulder as he moved to pass you. “Easy love, I got it. You just focus on getting me back into fighting order, yeah?” 

 “Yeah,” you rasped, your fingers shaking as you slowly reached for your stitching kit. The sound of John’s footsteps behind you felt like a hammer in your chest and you tried to fight the urge to swing around and watch him. 

You trusted John. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you and you knew this was just a reaction from your prior experiences. A closed door and a turned back had been a recipe for disaster last time, but this time you were with the good Captain- you were with John. 

There was a long silence from behind you as the door rattled and you tried to ignore the sound, focusing on attempting to thread the string through the eye of the needle. Your hands were trembling far too much for it to be anything but a joke. 

“Saint.” John said from across the room. 

Not love, not darlin’, not even Doc. 

Just Saint. 

You held your breath, swivelling slowly on your stool to face the man behind you. Price stood by the closed door, his expression carefully blank. He had a palm resting on the handle. 

“I need you to take a breath,” he began. “Don’t panic.” 

Too late. 

You said nothing, painfully aware of how dry your throat suddenly felt. Each breath felt like your skin scraped against sandpaper, and with every beat of your heart, it felt like it was only going faster.

John rattled his hand against the door and to your horror, it didn’t budge. 

“Saint,” he raised his other hand with his palm facing outward, an attempt to placate you. It was well and truly too late for small acts of comfort, it was well beyond that point. 

How could they have accidentally locked the door? 

You stumbled off your seat, reminding yourself of the breathing techniques that you had taught both Birdy and Ghost. How could you help them when you couldn’t even help yourself? 

You were a fraud. 

“That’s fine,” you said, sounding anything but fine. “This is fine, we just need to call the nurses on the outside.” 

“Saint.” 

You reached clumsily for your table, the tools and bottles tipped overboard to bounce against the vinyl flooring. You swore beneath your breath, painfully aware of how hot it had suddenly become. Sweat trickled down the length of your spine, prompting your anxiety to run with it. 

You had forgotten what you were even looking for. 

“Saint.” 

You needed to get out of there. You needed to get that door open. You couldn’t be in there, couldn’t be left to the mercy of another soldier. Your heart thrashed wildly in your chest, your ribs aching as they tried to contain it. 

“Saint!” 

The door was closed and there was a man in the room with you. If you showed weakness it would only encourage him to attack, you needed to maintain the facade. You needed to be strong. Your fingers found the scalpel handle on your table. You wouldn’t let it happen again. 

“Saint!” 

You shot up straight, whirling around on the soldier now standing behind you. The instinct to protect yourself overcame any situational awareness that you had, you weren’t going to go through it again. The blade in your hand came down hard, aiming straight for his chest. 

Price caught your wrist instantly, ocean gaze baring deep into yours. 

A desperate noise, something akin to a sob fell from your lips.

“You’re alright, darlin’,” John rasped, sparing a quick glance at the weapon in your hand. “Gonna need you to take a breath with me, yeah?” 

You were sweating but cold, shaking but frozen, all at the same time. 

You were a mess. 

A fraud. 

“Saint,” the Captain ducked his head to meet your dropping gaze, “look at me.”

His fingers came to rest softly against your chin, tipping you up to meet his eyes miserably. You sniffled, tears running rampant down the length of your face and neck. You wanted to sob, you wanted to tear yourself from his grip and beat against the door. 

You weren’t sure whether you were too scared to move or too safe. 

“You’re safe. I’m not gonna let anyone lay a fuckin’ finger on you,” John reassured, genuine and firm in the statement. He wasn’t fucking around, he wasn’t spitting pretty words just to break them. 

John Price was right about one thing, there was a difference between boys and men. 

And there was no way to confuse which one he was. 

“Yeah,” you rasped. It was dry and crackled but it was a sign that you still had some control over yourself. It was a sign that you weren’t going to snap. 

“Yeah?” The Captain smiled. The sight of it put you at ease. The sound of his chuckle comforted you. 

“Yeah.” You reaffirmed, nodding your head this time. 

You were okay and you were safe and it was just a fucking door. 

“Good,” John said, eyes sparkling with mirth. He flicked his eyes upward at where he still held your wrist. “You reckon you could drop your machete then? Fearin’ for my life.” 

You jolted at the realization that you were still holding the scalpel, the blade still pointed directly at the man before you. Your knuckles had gone white from how hard you’d been gripping it. 

You sucked in a deep breath, dropping it as if it had burnt you. Price hummed consolingly as you stared up at him with wide and teary eyes. 

“Im sorry-“

“Don’t.” John warned gently, releasing your wrist. “Don’t apologize for defendin’ yourself.”

You closed your mouth and offered him a shaky nod. You needed him closer, you needed comfort and for once that didn’t involve you craving isolation. Usually, you wanted nothing to do with people when you were like this. Now, your fingers itched to touch him. 

The Captain rocked back on his heels a little, observing you from beneath his lashes.

“You alright?” He asked. His hands moved to touch your elbow but he paused halfway, as if he thought better of it. You watched as they dropped, wishing that he’d just done it. 

“Could be better,” you said honestly. “Could use a drink.” 

Price laughed, short and sharp. His fingers flexed. 

There was a long silence as you both took each other in. You wanted to say something, literally anything. You could slip in one of your dry jokes or maybe ask him to sit back down as you searched for your phone. 

Instead, you found yourself watching him, enjoying the visage of the Captain behind the lense of a new perspective. 

And he was watching you right back. 

His hands moved again, this time slow and with intent. John was giving you the option to move away, giving you the time to reject his touch. Some part of you tried to remind you that you should be afraid, that you were alone in a room all over again. But there was no reason to be afraid of this man, he was not some broken soldier- he was the master of his own ship. He was the Captain. 

He was John Price.

When his fingers came to rest on your arms, goosebumps rose across the places that his warmth trailed. 

“Let me take you out,” he whispered, so close you could taste the words. “Let me get you a drink, Saint.” 

Again, the intentional use of your call sign. The name that you had given him but he’d refused to use up until today.

“John-“ you hesitated, shifting where you stood.

You wanted nothing more. However, your thoughts had a way of running away from you, taking your fears and experiences and sprinting from where you stood. You knew he was a good man, but at the end of the day military men had a stigma for good reason. 

What if he would fuck you over in the end?

What if he didn’t come home?

“I know what you’re thinking,” John spoke, stepping closer. “I know where that brilliant fuckin’ mind of yours is going and I want to stop you right there.” 

You snorted softly. “You don’t know what I’m thinking, Captain.” 

His palms settled against your biceps, fingers enclosing around your skin. You could feel his thumbs rub into your arms, as though he was grounding himself as he spoke. 

“I do. You’re thinkin’ about me doing wrong by you. You’re thinking I’m full of hot air and pretty words and all that shit.” John rattled off, shaking his head as he spoke. “You’re thinking ‘bout what happens if one day I don’t make it.”

Your breath caught in your throat. 

“Well,” his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that you’d never seen. “I’m not here to play games. What you see is what you get and if I have you to come home to, I promise not even God could take me.” 

John’s breath was shaky at best as he scanned your features. It was nerve wracking to put yourself out there but it spun you out trying to process what he’d just said. Everything in you wanted to kiss him the second he’d finished his sentence.

You swayed on your feet, mouth opening and closing as you tried to muster a response. Your heart beat against your chest, trying to escape its prison and run right into John’s grasp. 

“Okay.” You said.

You wanted to die. The man had said the most romantic thing you’d heard since you’d binge watched Bridgerton, and all you had was one word. The most unenthusiastic word, mind you.

But, in true John Price spirit, the man only laughed. Full bodied and victorious. 

“Okay?” He sought confirmation with the biggest smile you’d seen from him in months. 

“Okay.” 

You wanted nothing more than him. 

[urdreamydoodles]

Would it be alright if I asked for some X Men headcannons with all the characters you currently write for where the reader has deals with chronic hip pain however she doesn't tell them that it occasionally pops out and she can pop it back in herself because she doesn't want to bother them with an issue she can resolve herself until she has to do it in front of them while on a mission? I'm so sorry if this breaks any request rules or guidelines I couldn't find a post that had them listed! Also I just wanted to say I really enjoy your writing and I look forward to anything you post!

X-Men x Reader

You have chronic hip pain and they find out about it

You have been hiding your chronic hip pain from your partner, fearing you would be a burden, but during a mission or in a vulnerable moment, the truth comes out.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Erik Lehnsherr, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Jean Grey, Wade Wilson & Rogue

As someone who suffers from multiple chronic pain in different joints, as well as one in the hips, this prompt particularly touches me, so thank you. I hope you like it ♡ And thank you for the compliment! — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

- Being with Logan is intense, both physically and emotionally. You love his fierce protectiveness, his strength, and his unwavering loyalty, but you also know he tends to worry—especially about you. That's why you’ve kept your chronic hip pain to yourself, knowing how he’d react if he found out you were dealing with it alone. Logan has enough on his plate without adding your physical issues into the mix, and besides, you’ve gotten good at managing the pain. It’s not like it affects your life in any major way—at least, that’s what you’ve told yourself.

- On a particularly dangerous mission, your hip starts acting up. You’re deep in enemy territory, and the stakes are high. You manage to push through the discomfort for most of the mission, but as you land from a jump, your hip finally gives out. The pain is sudden and sharp, and you know you need to pop it back into place. Trying to stay discreet, you find cover and do what you’ve always done—adjusting your leg to realign your hip with a grimace. Unfortunately, Logan notices immediately. He’s always been attuned to your every move, and the second he sees you in pain, he’s by your side in an instant.

- “What the hell are you doing?” His gruff voice cuts through the tension as he kneels next to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and concern. You try to brush it off, but Logan isn’t having any of it. “That ain’t somethin’ you hide from me,” he growls, his gaze hard. You explain the situation—how it’s been a chronic problem for years and that you didn’t want to worry him. Logan’s jaw clenches, his frustration palpable. “Darlin’, you don’t get to decide what I worry about. That’s my job.”

- After that, Logan is relentless in making sure you’re taken care of. He’s constantly checking on you, offering to carry you when your hip bothers you, and giving you space to rest when you need it. His gruff exterior melts away when it comes to your well-being, and his protective instincts kick into overdrive. “Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you go through this alone,” he tells you one night as he helps you adjust your leg after a long day. He’s gentle, far more so than anyone would expect from him, his hands careful as he massages the sore muscles around your hip.

- Logan’s solution is simple: he makes sure you never feel like a burden. Whether it’s during missions or at home, he’s always there, watching your back and offering his help without hesitation. “We’re a team, remember?” he says one day, his hand resting on your hip, his thumb brushing over the spot where the pain usually resides. “And that means you don’t have to deal with anythin’ on your own.”

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

- Remy is perceptive, always reading between the lines and noticing things others might miss. That's part of what makes him such a great partner, but it’s also what makes it harder for you to hide your chronic hip pain from him. You've managed to keep it under wraps for the most part, popping your hip back into place whenever it slips without him noticing. Remy is always so full of energy, so carefree, and you don't want to dampen that with your issues, especially when you can handle them yourself—at least, that’s what you’ve convinced yourself.

- During a mission, though, things go wrong. You’re in the middle of a heated fight, dodging attacks and moving quickly when your hip slips out of place. The pain is sharp and immediate, and you know you need to pop it back in before you can continue. Without thinking, you duck behind cover, quickly adjusting your leg to realign your hip. As you do, you hear Remy’s voice in your ear, laced with concern. “Chère, what you doin’? You okay?”

- He catches you mid-movement, his sharp eyes narrowing as he puts the pieces together. Remy quickly makes his way over to you, worry etched across his face. “Dis ain’t somethin’ you been dealin’ wit’ alone, right?” he asks, his usual playful tone replaced with something more serious. You try to downplay it, explaining that it’s been a chronic issue and that you didn’t want to bother him with it. Remy frowns, his eyes darkening as he kneels beside you. “You tink I don’t want to know when you hurtin’? C’mon, chère, dat ain’t how we do t’ings.”

- After that mission, Remy becomes even more attentive. He insists on helping you whenever your hip starts acting up, whether it's offering his shoulder to lean on or massaging the area when the pain gets bad. He’s surprisingly tender, his usual flirtatious demeanor softening into something more protective when it comes to your well-being. “Ain’t no need to be shy wit’ me, ma belle,” he says one night, his hands gentle as he rubs the sore muscles in your leg. “I’m here for all of it, pain an’ all.”

- Remy never makes you feel like a burden, instead turning every moment of vulnerability into an opportunity to show how much he cares. He’s always there, with a wink and a smile, but beneath that charm is a deep concern for your happiness and health. “You don’t ever need to hide from me, chère,” he says one evening as the two of you sit together, his arm wrapped around your waist. “We a team, you an’ me. I’m in dis for de long haul.” And in those moments, you realize that with Remy by your side, you’ll never have to face the pain alone.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

- Kurt has always been so graceful, moving through life with a lightness and ease that’s almost magical. You admire that about him, and you’ve never wanted to weigh him down with your chronic hip pain. He’s so gentle, so kind, always focused on making sure you’re happy and comfortable. You’ve managed your pain well enough, not wanting to bother him with something you’ve been handling on your own for years, especially since it’s always been more of an inconvenience than anything else. But on a mission, when you’re both deep in hostile territory, your hip finally gives out in the worst possible way.

- You’ve trained yourself to ignore the pain when it flares up, but this time, it’s different. The terrain is uneven, and after one wrong landing, your hip slips out of place with a sharp, searing pain. Kurt is mid-teleport, taking out enemies with his acrobatic movements when you feel it happen. You’re quick to duck behind a boulder, gritting your teeth as you try to realign it without making a scene. You don’t want to distract him from the mission, but as soon as you try to pop it back into place, Kurt appears beside you in a flash of sulfuric smoke.

- His yellow eyes widen with concern as he takes in the situation. “Liebes, what’s wrong?” His voice is full of worry, and you can’t bring yourself to brush him off. You explain quickly, telling him how your hip has been a problem for a long time and how you’ve been managing it yourself. Kurt’s brows knit together as he listens, and when you finish, he shakes his head, looking hurt but not angry. “Why did you not tell me?” he asks softly, gently helping you shift your leg to ease the pain. “You should never have to suffer alone.”

- After the mission, Kurt makes it his personal mission to ensure you never have to handle your hip pain by yourself again. He starts incorporating exercises into your routine to strengthen the muscles around your hip, always careful to avoid anything that might aggravate it. He’s patient and understanding, never making you feel like a burden for needing help. “You are my world, Liebes,” he tells you one night as you rest together, his tail curling affectionately around your leg. “I would never want you to suffer in silence.”

- He becomes your constant support, both physically and emotionally. Whether he’s helping you during a flare-up or teleporting you somewhere more comfortable when the pain becomes too much, Kurt never hesitates to be by your side. His love for you is unwavering, and he makes sure you know that your pain will never be a burden to him. “You are everything to me,” he says one evening, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And I will always be here to help you, no matter what.”

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

- You’ve been managing your chronic hip pain for years, never feeling the need to burden anyone with it, especially Scott. He's the leader of the X-Men, always juggling so many responsibilities that your small physical ailment seems trivial in comparison. You've gotten used to popping your hip back into place whenever it slips, and it’s never been a problem—until now. On missions, you’ve always been careful to avoid any situation that might aggravate it, keeping your pain to yourself and maintaining your focus on the task at hand.

- But today, the pain hits harder than usual, probably from the heavy landing you made after leaping from a ledge during a mission. You can feel it—the sharp, familiar ache—and you know it’s only a matter of time before it gives out. In the middle of the fight, you try to ignore it, but the pain intensifies until your hip finally pops out of place. You freeze, desperately needing to pop it back in, but the mission is still ongoing. Without thinking, you quickly duck behind cover and try to discreetly adjust yourself, hoping Scott doesn’t notice.

- Unfortunately, Scott sees everything. His eyes narrow behind his visor, and you can feel his laser-sharp focus honing in on you, even in the chaos of the battle. “Are you okay?” His voice crackles through your comms, calm but laced with concern. You grit your teeth, trying to brush it off. “I’m fine, Scott. Just need a minute.” But Scott knows you too well, and he doesn’t believe you for a second. When the battle ends, he rushes over to you, his face etched with worry. “What’s going on? I saw you struggling back there.”

- You sigh, realizing there’s no hiding it anymore. You explain the hip pain, how it’s been a chronic issue for years, and how you didn’t want to bother him with it. Scott’s expression shifts from concern to frustration—not with you, but with the fact that you’ve been suffering in silence. “You should have told me,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to handle this alone.”

- From that point on, Scott makes it his personal mission to help you manage your condition. He insists on finding ways to make your missions less physically taxing, even if it means altering strategies or teaming you with someone who can assist if needed. At home, he’s constantly asking if you need anything, researching exercises that might help strengthen your hip. And every time your hip starts to hurt, he’s there, offering support, both physically and emotionally, never making you feel like a burden. "You're part of this team," he tells you one night as you lay in bed. "And you're the most important part of my life. Don't ever think you're bothering me.”

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

- Erik has always been a man of immense strength, both physically and emotionally. You admire his resilience, his determination to fight for what he believes in, and you’ve never wanted to seem weak in his eyes. Your chronic hip pain has been a constant companion for years, but you’ve always managed to handle it on your own. Erik has enough battles to fight, and you don’t want to burden him with something as small as your occasional discomfort. But during a high-stakes mission, when your hip finally gives out, there’s no hiding it anymore.

- The mission is intense, with enemies surrounding you on all sides. You’re doing your best to keep up with Erik’s powerful presence, but as you dive for cover, your hip slips out of place. The pain is immediate and excruciating, but you try to push through it, not wanting to slow Erik down. As you quickly duck behind cover, you attempt to pop your hip back into place, hoping Erik doesn’t notice. But of course, Erik is far too perceptive, and his sharp eyes catch the movement instantly.

- “What are you doing?” His voice is stern, and you can feel his eyes burning into you as he approaches. You try to brush it off, but Erik’s not one to be deceived. He crouches down beside you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder as he looks at you with concern. “You’re in pain,” he states, his tone softening slightly. You explain the situation, telling him about your chronic hip pain and how you’ve been dealing with it yourself. Erik’s expression darkens, and you can see the frustration in his eyes—not at you, but at the fact that you’ve been suffering in silence.

- “You should have told me,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and disappointment. “I would never want you to hide something like this from me.” From that moment on, Erik takes it upon himself to ensure you never have to deal with your hip pain alone again. He may be a man of power, but when it comes to you, his touch is always gentle, his concern always genuine. He begins making adjustments to his plans, always considering your well-being and ensuring you’re never pushed beyond your limits.

- Erik is fiercely protective, and after learning about your hip, his protective instincts only intensify. He finds ways to make your missions less physically demanding, always checking in to make sure you’re comfortable. At home, he’s constantly asking how you’re feeling, offering massages and making sure you’re resting when you need it. “You’re important to me,” he tells you one night, his hand resting on your hip as you lay together in bed. “And I will never let you go through this alone.” With Erik by your side, you feel safe, knowing that he’ll always be there to help you through the pain.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

- Wanda has always been deeply attuned to emotions, both hers and yours. She’s someone who understands pain and struggle, having lived through so much herself, but you’ve never wanted to weigh her down with your own chronic hip pain. It’s been a part of your life for years, something you’ve learned to manage on your own, and though it’s frustrating at times, it’s never felt like something worth sharing with Wanda—until the day you’re on a mission together, and everything changes.

- The mission is intense, filled with chaos and danger, and you’re doing your best to keep up. But in the middle of a fight, as you dodge an attack, your hip slips out of place with a sharp, searing pain. You bite back a gasp, quickly ducking behind cover as you try to pop your hip back in without drawing attention. But before you can even try, you feel a gentle pulse of energy wrap around you. Wanda’s magic—red and warm—flows over you, and you know she’s sensed something is wrong.

- “What’s happening?” Wanda’s voice echoes in your mind, her concern immediately apparent. You don’t want to distract her from the battle, but you can’t hide the truth. You explain quickly, telling her about your chronic hip pain and how you’ve been dealing with it alone. Wanda doesn’t hesitate. In an instant, she teleports to your side, her eyes glowing with a fierce, protective light. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, her voice filled with worry, but there’s no anger in her tone, only concern.

- Wanda helps you through the pain, using her magic to gently ease your hip back into place. Her touch is soft, her presence comforting, and in that moment, you realize just how much you’ve been holding back from her. After the mission, Wanda makes it clear that you don’t have to deal with your pain alone anymore. She starts using her magic to help manage your hip, casting healing spells and creating charms to keep the pain at bay. “You’re not a burden,” she tells you one evening as you sit together, her hand resting on your hip. “We’re in this together. Always.”

- With Wanda’s support, you feel a weight lifted off your shoulders. She never lets you feel like a burden, and her love for you is unwavering. Whenever the pain flares up, Wanda is there, using her magic to make it easier for you. She becomes your constant source of strength, and with her by your side, you feel like you can handle anything. “You don’t have to hide your pain from me,” she says softly one night, her fingers gently tracing your skin. “I’ll always be here to help you, no matter what.”

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

- Being with Pietro is like living in a whirlwind. He’s always moving, always full of energy, and you love the excitement he brings into your life. But that same energy is part of the reason you’ve never told him about your chronic hip pain. You didn’t want to slow him down, didn’t want him to feel like he had to adjust his pace for you. You’ve been handling the pain on your own for years, and it’s never been an issue—until the day your hip gives out during a mission.

- You’re both in the middle of a high-speed chase, running through the city as you try to outmaneuver your enemies. Pietro’s a blur of silver and blue, darting ahead while you do your best to keep up. But as you leap over a barrier, your hip slips out of place, sending a sharp pain shooting through your leg. You stumble, biting back a cry as you duck behind cover, trying to pop your hip back in as quickly as possible. You don’t want Pietro to notice, but of course, he’s already there in an instant.

- “What’s wrong?” Pietro’s voice is sharp with concern, and before you can even answer, he’s crouching beside you, his blue eyes scanning you for injuries. You try to brush it off, but Pietro’s not having it. “Tell me what’s going on,” he insists, his voice softer now but still filled with worry. Reluctantly, you explain about your chronic hip pain, how you’ve been dealing with it yourself because you didn’t want to bother him. Pietro’s expression shifts, and for a moment, he looks hurt. “You think I wouldn’t want to know?” he asks quietly.

- From that moment on, Pietro refuses to let you suffer in silence. He’s always checking in on you, making sure you’re comfortable and never pushing you too hard. He even slows down for you when he needs to, never making you feel like you’re holding him back. “You’re not a burden,” he tells you firmly one day as you sit together, his arm wrapped around your waist. “I’d rather be at your pace than leave you behind.”

- Pietro’s love for you is as fast and fierce as everything else he does, and he makes sure you never have to handle your pain alone again. Whether it’s carrying you when your hip is acting up or making sure you have a comfortable place to rest, he’s always by your side. “You’re everything to me,” he says one night as he presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “And I’ll always take care of you, no matter how fast or slow we have to go.”

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

- Jean is the most intuitive person you’ve ever known, her empathy so strong that it’s almost impossible to hide anything from her. But you’ve managed to keep your chronic hip pain a secret, not because you don’t trust her, but because you didn’t want to worry her. Jean has so much on her plate, with her powers and the constant responsibilities of being an X-Man. You’ve always handled your hip pain on your own, and it never seemed like something worth burdening her with—until one day, when you’re on a mission together, and it becomes impossible to hide.

- The mission is going well, but as you leap from a ledge, your hip slips out of place with a sharp, sudden pain. You try to hide it, biting your lip as you duck behind cover, quickly attempting to pop your hip back into place. But you can feel Jean’s presence in your mind before you can even move. Her concern washes over you, her mental voice soft but urgent. Are you okay? You sigh, knowing there’s no hiding it from her now. “I’m fine, Jean,” you say out loud, but she’s already at your side, her eyes full of worry.

- “You’re not fine,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. Jean listens quietly as you explain your chronic hip pain, how it’s been an issue for years, and how you’ve been managing it on your own. She frowns, her brows knitting together as she processes what you’re telling her. “You should have told me,” she says softly, her hand resting on your arm. “I could have helped you.” There’s no anger in her voice, only concern and a deep, unwavering love. You feel her empathy wrapping around you like a warm blanket, soothing your fears and making you realize that you don’t have to carry this burden alone.

- From that moment on, Jean makes sure you never have to deal with your hip pain in silence. She’s always checking in on you, using her telepathy to gently monitor how you’re feeling without being intrusive. She even starts researching ways to help manage the pain, from physical therapy exercises to mental techniques for pain management. “We’ll figure this out together,” she tells you one day as you sit together, her hand resting on your hip. “You don’t have to go through this alone anymore.”

- Jean is endlessly supportive, both mentally and physically. Whenever your hip starts acting up, she’s there, offering to help you realign it or using her telekinesis to make the process less painful. Her empathy and care make you feel cherished, and she never makes you feel like a burden. “You’re my partner,” she says one evening as you lay together, her fingers gently tracing circles on your skin. “And that means we share everything—the good and the bad. I’m here for you, always.” With Jean by your side, you know that you’ll never have to face your pain alone again.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

- Wade is anything but conventional, and that’s one of the things you love most about him. He’s chaotic, loud, and completely unpredictable, but he’s also fiercely protective of you. You’ve never wanted to burden him with your chronic hip pain, though. He already has enough on his plate, what with his healing factor and constant battle scars. Your hip pain seems so small compared to everything he deals with, so you’ve been managing it on your own—until one day, when Wade finds out in the most Wade way possible.

- You’re both in the middle of a mission, and things are going as well as they ever do when you’re working with Deadpool, which is to say: absolute chaos. Wade is cracking jokes, slicing through enemies, and generally causing mayhem, while you’re doing your best to stay focused. But then, as you dive to avoid an explosion, your hip slips out of place with a painful pop. You grit your teeth, ducking behind cover to pop it back in, hoping Wade doesn’t notice. Unfortunately, he does.

- “Babe! What the hell was that?” Wade’s voice comes over the comms, full of concern, and before you can even respond, he’s next to you, his mask tilted as if he’s trying to get a better look at you. “Did your hip just do the thing? You didn’t tell me you had a thing!” You sigh, knowing there’s no avoiding the conversation now. You explain about your chronic hip pain, how it’s been an issue for years, and how you’ve been handling it yourself because you didn’t want to bother him. Wade stares at you for a moment before letting out a dramatic gasp. “Bother me? Babe, I literally regrow limbs. I think I can handle a little hip action.”

- From that moment on, Wade makes it his personal mission to make sure you never have to deal with your hip pain alone. He turns it into a running joke, calling himself your “personal hip specialist” and constantly offering to “massage your beautiful, badass hip.” But beneath the jokes, Wade is genuinely concerned for you, and he takes your pain seriously. He starts carrying you around whenever your hip acts up, always cracking jokes to make you laugh, but you can tell he’s keeping an eye on you, making sure you’re okay.

- “You’re my hot, kickass partner,” Wade says one night as you both relax at home, his head resting on your lap. “And if you think for one second that I wouldn’t want to help you with this, you’re crazy. I mean, crazier than me, and that’s saying something.” Wade’s love may be unconventional, but it’s fierce and unwavering, and he makes sure you never feel like a burden. Whenever your hip pain flares up, Wade is there with a joke and a helping hand, making you feel cherished and cared for, no matter what.

Rogue (Anna Marie)

- Rogue has always been cautious with you, careful not to hurt you with her powers. She’s your fiercely protective Southern belle, and you love her for that. But when it comes to your chronic hip pain, you’ve kept it to yourself. You never wanted her to feel like she had to take care of you when she already deals with so much of her own struggles. You’ve gotten used to quietly popping your hip back in place when needed, but it’s something you don’t plan on letting her see—until one mission changes everything.

- You’re both out in the field, dealing with a group of rogue Sentinels. The battle is intense, and you’re focused, trying to keep up with Rogue’s flying acrobatics. But as you leap out of the way of one of the robot’s attacks, your hip slips out of place with a sharp, agonizing pain. You stumble behind some rubble, gritting your teeth as you try to pop it back into place. Unfortunately, Rogue sees the whole thing.

- “Sugar, what’s goin’ on?” she asks, her voice filled with concern as she hovers above you. She lands beside you, reaching out as if to help, but stops herself, her gloved hands hovering just inches from your arm. You hesitate, not wanting to burden her, but the worry in her green eyes convinces you to tell the truth. You explain your chronic hip pain and how you’ve been dealing with it yourself because you didn’t want her to worry. Rogue listens carefully, her brow furrowed, and when you finish, she lets out a long sigh.

- “You think Ah wouldn’t wanna know somethin’ like that?” she asks softly, her accent thick with emotion. “Ah love you, sugah, and if you’re hurtin’, Ah need to know. It don’t matter if it’s somethin’ you’re used to. Ah want to help.” From that moment on, Rogue makes it her mission to help you in any way she can. Whenever your hip acts up, she’s quick to offer her strength—lifting you, carrying you, or even just sitting with you until the pain passes. She makes sure you know that you’re never a burden to her.

- Rogue’s love is as strong as she is, and she refuses to let you face your pain alone. She���s always there, whether it’s helping you get comfortable or making sure you have a supportive cushion to sit on. “You’re mah heart,” she whispers one night as she gently rests her head against yours, her gloved hand resting on your hip. “Ah’ll take care of you, just like you take care of me.”

[ninibeingdelulu]

What turn them on… ft. leon kennedy, levi ackerman, Kento nanami

A/N: nsfw (not detailed)

leon :

That low, hushed bedroom voice you slip into drives him absolutely wild. When you lean in close, lips brushing his ear as you murmur those filthy suggestions and pet names, it ignites fire in his veins.

He loves when you let your hair down and shake those tousled locks loose. Watching those silky strands cascade down framing your features instantly kicks Leon's pulse into overdrive.

Don't even get him started on you in lingerie - especially some slinky, lacy number that clings to every delicious curve. One glimpse of your body captured in those delicate fabrics and Leon's undivided hunger sears onto you.

But his ultimate weakness? You flat-out seducing him in that saucy, empowered way only you can. Strutting up with that coy, bedroom-eyed stare and beginning to slowly, teasingly unfasten each garment until you're deliciously bare before his devouring gaze...he'll ravish you into the mattress without hesitation.

levi :

Seeing you assertive, confident, and in total control of any given situation makes Levi's steel resolution melt into a puddle. You radiating that fiery, self-assured dominance speaks directly to his most primal instincts.

He can't resist when you playfully tease or rib him in that sarcastic, flirtatious tone. That rapier wit and zero effs given attitude immediately ignite Levi's scorching lust.

Get a little messy and carefree around him once in a while. Don't mind getting handsy or disheveled because he adores watching you unravel from propriety into total sensual abandon.

But Levi's ultimate turn-on? You taking charge, grabbing him by the cravat, and forcefully devouring his mouth like a starving animal before tearing every stitch off his taut body. He'll submit willingly, eagerly awaiting your ravenous commands.

kento :

An uninhibited, joyful smile radiating your genuine warmth and inner vibrance leaves Kento utterly bewitched. He's an absolute goner for your luminous, sunny disposition.

Don't be afraid to lightly tease his cheeky flirtations or naughty innuendos with playful eyerolls or mock indignation. Keeping Kento on his flirtatious toes amps up the simmering chemistry.

He adores watching you engage in physical hobbies you're passionate about. That focused intensity and litheness of your body through athletic motions enraptures Kento endlessly.

But his most delirious turn-on? You inching up close and languidly trailing your fingertips up his chiseled abdomen over clothes. Letting your touch linger there while angling up to brush parted lips against the corner of his smirk with a breathy invitation to continue getting _very_ physical behind closed doors...Kento will scoop you up before you can even blink.

[solomonomenon]

skz's first thought when they see an attractive woman

⚠️ for entertainment purposes only *based on tarot

𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣

his mind goes into overdrive. he’s immediately hit with this rush of energy, like he’s ready to compete for her attention, but at the same time, he’s trying to play it cool. you know he’s imagining all the slick moves he could make, but there’s also a part of him that’s like, chill, don’t overthink it, just wait for the perfect moment. he’s caught in this inner tug-of-war between making a move right away and just soaking in the moment while plotting how to stand out.

𝙡𝙚𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬

he’s a mess inside, even if he looks calm on the outside. at first, he’s all smiles, thinking, she’s cute, I could totally vibe with her, but then doubt creeps in. he starts overthinking, maybe even comparing himself to the crowd around her. deep down, there’s this flicker of vulnerability, like he’s thinking, would she even notice me, though? he’d never show it, of course, but inside, it’s a mix of playful interest and a touch of heartbreak before he even says hello.

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙗𝙞𝙣

he sees her, and bam—his brain goes wild. he’s immediately struck by her beauty, thinking she’s absolutely got it all. then his confident, intense side kicks in, and he’s analyzing her like, yeah, I know exactly how to charm her. but there’s also this darker, more primal side of him that’s like, she’s trouble, and I love it. he’s the type to admire her from afar while imagining all the bold, thrilling ways he could sweep her off her feet.

𝙝𝙮𝙪𝙣𝙟𝙞𝙣

his reaction is like a mix of dreamy and earnest. he spots her and immediately starts picturing some romantic, poetic scenario—like offering her a flower or writing her a song. but there’s also a playful, carefree side of him that’s like, what if I just walked up and said something totally random? he’s imagining all the sweet, heartfelt ways to grab her attention while also entertaining the idea of just being himself—charming, quirky, and maybe a little impulsive.

𝙝𝙖𝙣

he spots her and feels this pull, like wow, she’s something special, but then he’s all, nah, don’t get ahead of yourself. his thoughts start bouncing around—he’s wondering if she’d even notice him, imagining little scenarios where he tries to get her attention, but then he also kind of zones out, like, what’s the point? he’s intrigued but also keeps one foot out the door, just in case she’s too good to be true.

𝙛𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙭

he’s soft but lowkey deep about it. he sees her and instantly starts wondering about who she really is—like, what her story is, what she’s like when no one’s watching. there’s a part of him that feels fated, like maybe I was meant to see her, but instead of rushing in, he holds back, thinking, should I even approach her? he’s more reflective, imagining the what-ifs while staying in his own little dreamy bubble.

𝙨𝙚𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙢𝙞𝙣

his first thought is pure restraint. he sees her, and there’s this intense mental battle where he’s keeping his cool, telling himself, don’t get distracted. but let’s be real, she’s in his head now. he’s analyzing every detail, weighing whether it’s worth approaching her, and maybe even thinking, could she be a challenge? there’s a hint of a competitive edge, too, like he wouldn’t mind winning her over just to prove he could. but mostly, he’s locked in his thoughts, trying not to let her beauty throw him off his game.

𝙟𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣

he sees her and it’s like a spark of excitement lights up inside him. he’s immediately intrigued, admiring her beauty in this sweet yet curious way, while also imagining how she might react if he actually said something. there’s a playful, almost innocent vibe to his thoughts, like he’s thinking, what would she say if I walked up to her? he’s fascinated but also has this grounded side, imagining how he could subtly impress her without coming on too strong.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

[rubra-wav]

Hiya! I absolutely loved your posts about the HH main cast dealing with a sick reader and them being sick. You did a phenomenal job with them!

As for a request, what about Vox, hell’s resident bipedal tv, hc’s of him realizing he’s legitimately falling for reader?

Vox realises he has feelings for you

A/N : Thank you so much seriously!! 💛

Cw: SFW, gn!reader, suggestive comment at one point, angst-ish/ Vox coping

- It'll be a good long time before he realises he's fallen for you, and when he finally does, he's fully in it. There's no turning back and there's no backpedalling. He's absolutely whipped.

- It hits him one day like a train that he's actually in love with you all at once.

- He hung out with you the afternoon, and that night he's laying on his back with his phone gripped in his hand against his chest.

- It's been exactly 3 and a half hours since you were out together on a movie date at the VIP premiere. (as in in the ridiculously lavish movie room he had within Vee tower)

- He had been counting.

- You hadn't texted him back yet, and he was tapping his claw impatiently waiting for you to message him back with the world's biggest pout on his face.

- He'd already sent 4 texts, and none of them had been answered yet. He had to stop himself from sending more because he didn't want to seem too desperate. (Even though he was)

- He told himself he'd be mad that you had made him wait whenever you got back to him. He'd blow up over it.

- However, the second his phone buzzes and he sees the notification from you saying you had fun and were sorry you hadn't gotten back immediately it's like his dopamine receptors have been kicked into absolute overdrive.

- He's giddy. Warmth is flooding his chest, and he starts breathing heavier as the world's dorkiest smile spreads across his face.

- It isn't then that he realises exactly, but it's when you leave to go to sleep after texting him for a couple of hours with a flirtatious comment that has his head spinning and sparking.

- You were talking about how you'd washed your sheets that day and were making your bed. He acted like he was bored, and your next words absolutely took him out.

- "Fine. Next time, come over, and I'll spread you out on my bed then."

- When he calms down, it's messed up again as he's questioning himself.

- Why did I glitch out to them saying something that resembles a shitty pick-up line? Why did I count every minute that passed the second you went home? Why do I feel like I'm on drugs the second you pay me the slightest bit of attention.

- OH FUCK -

- He goes through all stages of grief as he realises he's in love with you in a single second and ends up causing a blackout in his bedroom in the process.

- When he roboots, he holds his head in his hands and chugs delulu juice instantly feels absolutely terrified.

- It's humiliating for him to have such delicate feelings, let alone for someone who surely doesn't feel the same way. His experiences with real, genuine romantic love for other people have hardly ended well.

- He likely tries to distance himself from you because he's scared of the fact he is so attached to you.

- It's been ages and ages of being attached to you but he's only fully realised - or at least fully acknowledged the extent of that attachment.

- His distance from you is shortly lived however as he craves you and your presence so badly he's disgusted at himself.

- He would not be the one to confess 9 times out of 10.

- Even if it's glaringly obvious you are also into him, he copes so fucking hard he's actually delusional with the excuses he makes about it.

- He basically friendzones HIMSELF.

- You could kiss him on the cheek or hold his hands in yours or cup his face lovingly and he would be there glitching while thinking about how you must just be like this with everyone else-

- He's charismatic, charming, and can often read everyone around him like an open book - analyse their behaviours, true intentions, expressions, thoughts under it all, etc.

- But he's so terribly stupid with love.

- You need to confess to him first most likely and he'll probably still think you're bullshitting him.

- Literally finds every reason of why you aren't in love with him and tries to twist everything that way.

- Even when he's in love, he wants it to be reciprocated obviously. The thought of it not being requited as he expects is embarrassing at best.

- But, he's genuinely probably even more terrified of what that means if you do love him back.

- It's easier if you don't love him back for him because he's scared of the way you might further bring out whatever imperfections and vulnerability he's shown you already after actually being in a relationship with you.

- He craves being in a relationship with you and the security you could bring him to expose those parts of himself he desperately conceals with masks resting on masks, but also its deeply unnerving to him simultaneously.

Infuriating watching the process of this man actually realising he's in love for real, honestly 😭

[alyrasturnz]

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSYadsLfN/

the "can u see him doing this with ur daughter? theres ur answer" trend reminds me of matt so much like yes he would wear a tutu and play barbies with his daughter

THERES YOUR ANSWER

❐ summary » five occasions arose where matt's actions illuminated the path, demonstrating with unwavering clarity that this endeavor could indeed flourish.

❐ pairings » dad!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » none

❐ a/n && w/c » this is made for the ones that have daddy issues • 4.48k

“can you imagine him checking under the bed for monsters?”

the wind outside was a relentless force, howling like a pack of wolves, while thunder boomed through the sky with the fury of a thousand drums. it was a night where the storm seemed to have a life of its own, and your daughter aniella, nestled in her bed, suddenly awoke, her body snapping upright.

fear gripped her as she watched the shadows cast by the flickering lightning dance ominously on her bedroom walls. the thunder's deafening roar only intensified her fright, making her small frame tremble with each resounding crash from the storm outside.

aniella whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes as she called out for matt. "daddy!" she cried, her voice quivering with fear as she desperately tried to burrow under her covers, seeking refuge from the storm's terrifying symphony.

her small frame shook with each sob, her heart pounding as she clung to the only sense of safety she could find in that moment.

after a little while, her voice pierced the storm once more, "daddy!" she cried out, louder this time, her tone saturated with a deeper, more palpable fear.

she sobbed uncontrollably into her unicorn sheets, her cries a desperate plea for comfort amidst the chaos raging outside.

matt swiftly opened the door, his hair in wild disarray and his eyes still clouded with the remnants of sleep, yet unmistakably etched with concern. his gaze swept across the dimly lit room, taking in the flickering shadows cast by the storm outside, before finally settling on the small, trembling form of aniella.

she was partially hidden beneath her unicorn-themed covers, her sobs a soft, heart-wrenching sound that cut through the chaos of the night. matt's heart ached as he took in the sight of his frightened daughter, his protective instincts immediately kicking into overdrive.

his heart swelled at the sight of his daughter, a profound mixture of love and concern washing over him. his eyes softened, a tender smile tugging at his lips despite the urgency of the moment.

"aniella, sweetie?" matt whispered, his voice gentle and soothing as he closed the door behind him with a quiet click. he walked up to her bed with measured steps, each one laden with the intent to comfort and protect.

he carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, his movements deliberate and gentle, as though afraid to disturb her fragile state.

with a tender touch, he slowly pulled the covers away, revealing his daughter's tear-stained cheeks. the sight made his heart soften even further, a wave of empathy and protectiveness washing over him as he took in her vulnerable expression.

"what's wrong, elle?" he cooed softly, his voice a soothing balm against the storm's fury. he brought his hand up to her small, tear-stained cheeks, his thumb gently tracing soothing circles against her delicate skin, hoping to ease her distress with his tender touch.

"i'm scared," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible above the patter of rain against the window. tears continued to stream down her face, carving glistening paths down her cheeks as she sought solace in her father's presence.

"of what, sweetie?" he asked softly, his voice imbued with a gentle curiosity and concern, as he endeavored to uncover the source of her distress.

aniella slowly sat up, inching closer to matt with a hesitant grace, her small frame trembling slightly. she brought her lips to his ear, her breath warm and trembling.

"the monsters under my bed," she whispered softly, her voice a fragile thread of fear. matt's gaze softened, a small, reassuring smile tugging at his lips as he absorbed her words, his heart swelling with a renewed determination to protect her.

"there are no monsters, aniella," he whispered, his voice a gentle murmur in the dimly lit room. as aniella crawled back under her sheets, matt couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, the sound warm and comforting.

"do you want me to check for you?" he asked, his tone tender and reassuring. aniella peeked out from beneath her covers, her eyes wide and hopeful, and nodded slowly.

matt rose to his feet and then gracefully lowered himself onto his knees, peering into the shadowy abyss beneath her bed. "no monsters," he proclaimed softly, his voice carrying an air of certainty.

as his hand reached out, it brushed against something soft and familiar. with a gentle chuckle, he pulled out a unicorn stuffed toy, holding it up for aniella to see. "but i found this," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he handed the plush unicorn to her.

aniella gasped, her eyes sparkling with delight as she eagerly took the unicorn and hugged it tightly to her chest. "i was looking for this!" she exclaimed, a radiant smile spreading across her face, her previous fears momentarily forgotten.

matt rose gracefully, ensuring aniella was snugly tucked in beneath her blankets, making sure every corner was perfectly in place to keep her warm and secure. with a gentle, affectionate motion, he leaned down, his presence exuding a calm and comforting aura, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

his touch was imbued with warmth and reassurance, a silent promise that he would always be there to protect and care for her. as he straightened up, he watched her eyes flutter closed, a serene smile playing on her lips, knowing she felt safe and loved.

matt offered a gentle smile as he began to walk away, but aniella, with a sudden and earnest urgency, reached out and halted his departure.

"please, daddy, stay," she implored, her eyes brimming with a heartfelt plea. matt's face, already softened with affection, seemed to melt even further, if such tenderness was possible.

matt's heart clenched with a profound ache, "of course, baby," he whispered tenderly, his voice barely more than a breath. with deliberate care, he climbed onto her bed, his movements slow and gentle, ensuring not to disturb her comfort.

he wrapped his arm around her small frame, pulling her close as she nestled against his chest, her tiny fingers clutching his shirt.

the rhythmic beating of his heart provided a soothing lullaby, and he could feel her breathing synchronize with his own.

as he held her, the world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the warmth of their shared embrace and the unspoken promise of his unwavering presence.

»--•--«

“can you imagine him dressing up in a tutu for your daughter?”

"aniella! lunch is ready!" you call out, your voice resonating through the house with a blend of warmth and authority. you carefully place her plate and utensils on the table, each movement deliberate and precise, as if setting the stage for a cherished ritual. 

the aroma of the meal wafts through the air, mingling with the anticipation of shared moments and conversations yet to unfold.

you had anticipated the familiar sound of aniella's hurried footsteps as she came running out of her room, eager for lunch. instead, an unexpected stillness filled the air, broken only by the soft strains of classical music emanating from her room, creating a poignant contrast to the lively scene you had envisioned.

"what in the world?" you murmur, your voice tinged with confusion and concern, as you slowly make your way towards her room, each step echoing in the quiet hallway.

you open the door to a whimsical sight: matt and aniella, both adorned in vibrant tutus, with aniella twirling gracefully around the room and matt balancing precariously on his tippy toes, his face a picture of concentrated effort and playful delight.

your jaw drops, a wide smile spreading across your face, as a soft chuckle escapes your lips. you lean against the door frame, taking in the endearing scene with a mix of amusement and affection.

you watch the scene unfold with a sense of wonder, as matt gracefully crouches down, allowing aniella to gently place a delicate crown upon his head. with a flourish, he spins around once more, the room filled with the enchanting blend of their laughter and the soft strains of classical music.

"oh my god," you exclaim, your voice a mix of astonishment and delight, as matt halts his movement, turning around to flash you a radiant smile that lights up the room.

"mommy, come join us!" aniella giggles, her face alight with a cheerful smile. she darts across the room, grabbing an extra tutu with eager hands, and runs back to you, presenting it with a sense of excited anticipation.

you beam, accepting the tutu from aniella with a warm smile. your gaze shifts upwards to meet matt's eyes, a silent exchange of joy and amusement passing between you.

"what is this?" you mouth to him, your eyebrows raised in playful curiosity. he responds with a casual shrug, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"come on, mama!" she exclaims with boundless enthusiasm, her small hand grasping your wrist firmly. with a burst of energy, she pulls you along, running back towards matt with infectious excitement.

"like this," she says, her voice brimming with innocent delight. she rises onto her tiptoes, her tiny feet barely making a sound as she twirls gracefully. her dress flutters around her like a delicate flower in the wind. 

you laugh softly, the sound a gentle melody, as you watch her with a heart full of love and admiration. her joyous demonstration fills the room with a sense of pure, unfiltered happiness.

"like this?" you ask, mirroring her words with a playful smile. you rise onto your tiptoes, mimicking her delicate movements as you spin around gracefully. she nods eagerly, her eyes sparkling with approval and delight, as if you have perfectly captured the essence of her dance.

"yeah!" aniella exclaims with boundless enthusiasm, her voice ringing with excitement. she turns swiftly to look at matt, her eyes alight with joy and anticipation, eager to share the moment with him.

matt chuckles, a warm, deep sound that fills the room. he rises onto his tiptoes, mimicking the delicate twirl of a princess, his movements surprisingly graceful. aniella giggles with delight, her laughter a sweet melody, while you can't help but let out a laugh, the joy of the moment infectious.

»--•--«

"can you imagine him taking your daughter out to dinner if she gets stood up by her date?"

after a grueling day of filming, matt maneuvered his car into the driveway, the weight of exhaustion evident in his every movement. with a heavy sigh, he leaned back against the seat momentarily, allowing the weariness to wash over him. as he turned his gaze towards the house, his eyes fell upon his daughter, who was seated on the porch steps, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of the evening light.

he furrowed his eyebrows in a mix of confusion and concern, the realization dawning upon him that she was supposed to be out on a date.

aniella stood with her head bowed, her eyes fixated on the ground beneath her. her face, shrouded in a veil of sorrow, betrayed a deep sense of introspection and sadness. the weight of her thoughts seemed to pull her gaze downward, her posture a silent testament to the heavy burden she carried within.

his heart swelled with a myriad of emotions at the poignant sight before him. after a moment's hesitation, he opened the car door and stepped out, each step towards the porch laden with a mix of anticipation and concern.

aniella's gaze remained steadfastly fixed on her feet, as if they held the answers to the turmoil within her. despite her unwavering focus, matt quietly lowered himself onto the step beside her, his presence a silent offering of comfort and solidarity.

a profound silence enveloped them, the air thick with unspoken words, as a torrent of thoughts cascaded through matt's mind, each one vying for his attention.

should he offer her solace, gently reminding her that the world is vast and teeming with opportunities, like an ocean brimming with countless fish? or should he let his indignation surface, bluntly labeling her date as an inconsiderate dick?

matt, wrestling with the cacophony of conflicting thoughts, finally decided to cast them aside. trusting his instincts, he allowed his gut feeling to guide his next move.

"how about we turn this night around, hm?" he inquired, turning to her with a gentle nudge. "let's go out, just the two of us. what do you think?" he proposed with a warm smile, his words causing her eyes to light up as she turned to meet his gaze.

“really?” she asked, a delicate smile beginning to form on her lips.

“of course,” matt replied, standing up with a fluid motion. he extended his hand towards her, his fingers curling slightly in invitation. "let's make the most out of tonight,” he added, his eyes sparkling with determination.

they stroll to a quaint, cozy diner tucked away on a quiet street nearby. as they enter, the warm, inviting aroma of comfort food envelops them. matt, with a twinkle in his eye, orders her favorite milkshake, rich and creamy, along with a heaping plate of golden fries.

they slide into a booth, the worn leather seats adding to the nostalgic charm of the place.

their conversation begins to flow like a gentle stream, washing away the remnants of earlier sadness. they chat and laugh, the sound of their mirth mingling with the soft hum of the diner. 

matt begins to share stories from his own teenage years, each tale more vivid and animated than the last. he recounts mischievous pranks, awkward moments, and small triumphs, all with a self-deprecating humor that makes her giggle.

with each story, she feels a growing sense of connection and understanding. the way matt's eyes light up with each memory, the way he gestures animatedly, and the warmth in his voice all make her feel seen and valued. the earlier sadness melts away completely, replaced by a comforting sense of camaraderie and shared experience.

after a while, matt leans back, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. he sighs softly before saying, "you know, this moment takes me back to the very first time i laid eyes on your mom."

aniella's eyes sparkled with curiosity, her voice tinged with eagerness as she asked, “really? how did you meet her?”

matt smiles, his eyes distant as he recalls the memory. “it was a night much like this one. i was supposed to meet a friend, but he canceled last minute. i decided to go to the diner anyway, and that's when i saw her. she was sitting alone, reading a book and sipping on a milkshake."

he pauses, taking a sip of his own drink. “i was nervous, but i felt this strange pull to go talk to her. so, i walked over and asked if i could join her. she looked up, surprised, but then she smiled and said yes. we ended up talking for hours, about everything and nothing, just like we are now."

your daughter listens with rapt attention, the sorrow in her eyes giving way to a burgeoning curiosity and warmth. “what happens next?” she inquires, her voice a soft whisper, eager to hear more.

“we started seeing each other more often," matt continues. “every time we met, it felt like we were discovering new parts of each other. and before we knew it, we were inseparable. she became my best friend, my confidant, and eventually, my wife."

by the time they head back home, your daughter feels much better, her heart buoyed by the comforting knowledge that, no matter the twists and turns of life, her dad will always be there for her, just as he was steadfast for her mom. 

as they approach the familiar steps of their home, she wraps her arms around him in a tight embrace, her gratitude overflowing for the serendipitous evening they shared. the warmth of his presence and the shared stories have woven a new thread of closeness between them, leaving her feeling cherished and secure.

»--•--«

"can you imagine him comforting your daughter when she has her heart broken for the first time?"

as the evening sky adorned itself in a tapestry of twilight hues, casting an ethereal glow over the weathered porch, she sat in quiet desolation, tears cascading down her cheeks like a silent symphony of sorrow. her heart lay in fragments, the agony of her first heartbreak a visceral, unyielding force that gnawed at her very soul. 

the world around her seemed to have been drained of its vibrancy, each color fading into a dull monotony, leaving her surrounded by a bleak, lifeless landscape. the oppressive weight of her grief threatened to consume her entirely, pressing down on her chest with a suffocating intensity.

in that moment, every breath felt like a struggle, each heartbeat a reminder of the love lost and the dreams shattered. she clung to the memories of what once was, yet they only served to deepen the chasm of her despair. 

the night grew darker, and the stars above seemed indifferent to her plight, twinkling coldly in the vast expanse of the sky. she was alone in her sorrow, and the silence of the night offered no solace, only a haunting echo of her pain.

matt found her there, his presence a gentle balm to her sorrow. without uttering a word, he positioned himself beside her, enveloping her shoulders with a comforting arm. she leaned into him, seeking solace in his embrace. for a timeless moment, they sat in profound silence, the only sound being the gentle rustle of leaves stirred by the evening breeze.

"you know," he began softly, his eyes distant as if recalling a distant memory. he shifted slightly, his fingers tracing absent patterns on the wooden bench between them. "when i was your age, i thought my world had ended too. i remember feeling like the pain would never go away."

she sniffled, her sobs gradually diminishing as she listened intently. his voice, steady and soothing, wove through the tumult of her emotions like a lifeline cast into a tempestuous sea.

"there was a time," he continued, his voice a soft murmur against the night, "when i felt just as lost. it was my first heartbreak, and i thought i'd never be whole again. but with every dawn, the pain lessened, and i discovered a strength within me that i never knew existed."

he paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle into the silence that enveloped them. she looked up at him, her eyes a tempest of emotions, swirling with a mixture of lingering pain and a fragile glimmer of hope. the moments stretched, each second an eternity as the depth of their shared experience began to unfold in the quiet between them.

"pain," he intoned, his voice a gentle murmur amidst the quiet, "is like a storm. it can be fierce and overwhelming, but it always passes. and when it does, it leaves behind a clearer sky. you will find that you are stronger than you think."

his words, cloaked in the wisdom of experience, began to weave a rich tapestry of solace around her. he recounted tales of resilience and hope, of moments when he had confronted seemingly insurmountable challenges and emerged not only unscathed but stronger and more resolute. each story was a thread, intricately woven, creating a fabric of comfort and strength that enveloped her.

"you are never alone," he whispered, his voice imbued with unwavering assurance. “i will always be here for you, no matter what."

in that fleeting moment, as twilight surrendered to the embrace of night, she sensed the fragments of her shattered heart beginning to mend. the pain lingered, yet it was no longer insurmountable. with a profound certainty, she knew that regardless of the trials ahead, her father would remain an unwavering pillar of support.

they sat together on the porch, the stars beginning to twinkle in the vast expanse of the night sky. the world, which had seemed so dark and hopeless just moments before, now felt imbued with a faint but growing light. she understood that the path ahead would be fraught with challenges, yet with her father by her side, she felt a newfound readiness to confront whatever lay ahead.

"thank you, dad," she whispered, her voice resonating with profound gratitude and deep emotion.

he smiled, a warm and reassuring smile that conveyed a depth of unspoken understanding. "anytime, sweetheart. anytime."

and so, beneath the vast canvas of the night sky, a bond that had always been strong grew even more unbreakable. in the quietude of that evening, amidst the whispers of the wind and the soft luminescence of the stars, a father's unwavering love and a daughter's resilient spirit intertwined, weaving a tale of hope and healing that would be cherished for generations to come.

»--•--«

"would you want a man to treat your daughter the same way he treats you?"

as the evening sun descended beneath the horizon, it bathed the quaint restaurant in a resplendent, golden glow, transforming the familiar surroundings into a canvas of nostalgic warmth. you and matt found yourselves seated at a table steeped in memories, the very spot where your parents had first encountered matt all those years ago. 

the air was thick with the aroma of freshly baked bread and the soft murmur of conversations, creating an ambiance both comforting and intimate. tonight, however, the air was charged with a different anticipation, as you were here to meet aniella's boyfriend, ethan. 

the significance of the moment was not lost on you; this was a new chapter, a bridge between past and future. the delicate interplay of light and shadow seemed to mirror the mix of emotions swirling within you—excitement, curiosity, and a touch of nostalgia.

ethan arrived, his presence strikingly reminiscent of matt's from your teenage years. his nervous energy was palpable, manifesting in the way he fidgeted with his hands, an unconscious echo of matt's youthful mannerisms. 

even his choice of words, carefully selected yet tinged with a hint of anxiety, mirrored matt's from that fateful night when he first met your parents. the resemblance was uncanny, and you couldn't help but smile as memories of those formative years flooded back. 

the way ethan shifted in his seat, the earnestness in his eyes, and the slight tremor in his voice all combined to create a vivid tableau of the past, intertwining it seamlessly with the present moment. it was as if time had folded in on itself, bringing forth a sense of nostalgia and continuity that warmed your heart.

the conversation commenced with light-hearted banter, a gentle prelude to the deeper inquiries that lay ahead. soon, you and matt navigated the waters of casual discourse, steering towards more profound and introspective questions.

"ethan," you began, your voice a steady anchor amidst the ebb and flow of conversation, “what are your plans for the future? where do you see yourself in five years?” the question hung in the air, a bridge between the present moment and the unfathomable expanse of time yet to come.

ethan adjusted his glasses, a gesture that seemed to illuminate his eyes with a fervent enthusiasm. "well," he began, his voice tinged with excitement, "well, i'm currently working on my master's in astrophysics, and after that, i plan to pursue a phd. i'm really passionate about research, especially in the field of exoplanets. i want to contribute to our understanding of the universe and maybe even discover new worlds. and, of course, i want aniella to be a part of that journey. she's my biggest supporter."

you smiled softly, your heart warmed by ethan's dreams and aspirations. it was a quality you had always cherished in matt as well. his passion for the things he loved and his unwavering commitment to his goals had always been a beacon of inspiration for you.

matt nodded approvingly, his gaze softening. "and how do you handle disagreements with aniella?" he asked, his tone gentle but probing.

ethan smiled, though a trace of nervousness still clung to his expression. "we engage in open dialogue," he began, his voice steady yet sincere. "we talk things out. i believe in open communication and making sure we both feel heard. it's not always easy, but i think it's important to work through things together. we also love debating different scientific theories, which helps us understand each other better."

your heart swelled with a profound warmth, for matt mirrored this very approach in his own unique way. his dedication to open communication and mutual understanding was a reflection of the qualities you so deeply admired in him.

as the evening unfolded, you observed with growing admiration how ethan's responses exuded a maturity and thoughtfulness that provided you with a profound sense of reassurance. he spoke of his upbringing, his values, and his dreams with a clarity and conviction that vividly reminded you of matt's early days. 

the uncanny parallels between ethan and matt were striking, weaving a tapestry of familiarity and shared values that warmed your heart deeply. it was as if you were witnessing a reflection of matt's younger self in ethan, and this realization filled you with a sense of comfort and hope for the future.

by the end of the night, it became abundantly clear that ethan had left an indelible mark on your hearts. as you departed the restaurant, hand in hand with matt, your hearts brimmed with a profound sense of fulfillment. 

you couldn't help but reflect on how your own love story had blossomed within the walls of that very place, and now, witnessing aniella's journey unfolding so beautifully with ethan by her side, filled you with a sense of poetic continuity. it was as if the threads of your past and present were intricately woven together, creating a tapestry of love and hope for the future.

thus, to address your query, the answer is unequivocally yes. you observed matt in his actions and endeavors, and through these, he consistently demonstrated and substantiated his capabilities to you.

yes, you can envision matt meticulously inspecting every nook and cranny beneath your daughter's bed, ensuring that no imaginary creatures lurk in the shadows.

yes, you can picture matt twirling gracefully with your daughter, both adorned in tutus and tiaras, their laughter filling the room as they dance in joyous harmony.

yes, you can envision matt tenderly taking your daughter out for dinner, providing solace and companionship after the disheartening experience of being stood up.

yes, you can envision matt offering a comforting embrace to your daughter, his presence a soothing balm as she navigates the tumultuous emotions of her first heartbreak.

yes, you can envisage your daughter finding solace and companionship in a man akin to matt, whose character and virtues mirror those of her steadfast guardian.

[loveshotzz]

Lovesick!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Made For Loving You

summary: Eddie’s in love and can’t keep his hands to himself.

warnings: 18 + mentions of drinking, smoking, public making out, semi public oral (f receiving)

word count: 2k

authors note: distance makes the heart grow fonder and I missed Eddie a whole lot. Here’s him being in love with you and eating you out from his POV. thought I’d try something new. Eddie moved away from Hawkins and to a city where he could be loud and himself in this AU.

Eddie watches white smoke billow from between your parted red lips, faded and just slightly smeared from cupping your hands over them when he made you laugh inside the bar you stood outside of. He was still enamored by them. By you. Your cheeks hollow out when you take another long drag of his cigarette after you’d asked for only one swearing that you only did it when you drank. He’d sit here and watch you smoke his whole pack if you’d let him.

The city skyline shines bright behind you, it's beautiful but its glimmer pales in comparison to the way you smile as you tell him a story he’s already heard before. He doesn’t care, you could tell it on a loop if it means you’ll keep looking at him like that. When you finally hand it back to him he notices the way your eyes glaze over when your fingers brush against his rings.

The urge to kiss you is strong but he’s enjoying this moment too much.

Nodding his head in agreement to a new story about an argument you had with a customer at the record shop he’d met you at, his chocolate eyes catch a glimpse of the faint crimson stain now adoring the butt of his cigarette before pressing it to his plump lips. This was good enough for now.

You're all leather and black and somehow wearing his flannel, the wind kicking up after night fell — you blamed it on the summer chill. He knew he’d never see that shirt again, not unless it was wrapped around your curves.

Exhaling his last drag he flicks the remains into the street earning him the scowl from you he was waiting for. Using it as a distraction so he can press you against the brick lining the outside of the dive bar, he silences your scolding with a smile in his kiss. A soft chuckle rumbling in his chest when you meet his advances with a more than eager mouth.

The drinks you both had makes the swipes of your tongues messier when you lick into each other’s mouths. His hands settling deep and bruising on your hips as you find what he’s learned is your favorite place with fingers tangled in his curls. The light tug you give at his roots pulls a moan deep from his throat.

He nudges your thighs apart with his knee just enough to slot a denim clad leg between yours, pushing your skirt up just enough for him to get a view of the lace underneath. He nips at your bottom lip when he feels you immediately start to wiggle against him for more, your neediness that you’d been better at hiding than him sends him into overdrive.

“Eddie” His name slips out from between desperate kisses broken and whiney. He loved getting you like this. You tug his curls again when his lips travel to your neck. Nipping at your sensitive skin, he wants to hear you say it again.

The sound of the music inside goes from a dull thumping to loud enough for the two of you to break apart when the door slams open, drunken laughter joining the rest of the city noise that both of you managed to block out. Still caging you in with two hands on either side of your head, he reaches down to tip your chin up to look at him. The rough pad of his thumb tugs your sucked in bottom lip, his darkened eyes watching the way your tongue glides over your top row of teeth after.

Lipstick smeared even more, he knows he’s wearing some now.

Dimples poking his cheeks when he smiles at you, the look in your eyes matches his as your lips finally give in and pull up at the corners. A giggle bubbles from you as your nervous fingers pull your skirt down one more time and he swears each one he earns is better than the last.

“Wanna get out of here princess?” It's his turn to bite his lip when he catches the way you clench your thighs. Your converse tap against the pavement as you shuffle side to side at the thought.

“My place or yours?” Smirking up at him with mischief twinkling in your eyes he wondered if it was still too early to tell you the three words that he swears have been on the tip of his tongue since the day you met.

—

Eddie’s apartment ends up being the winning destination with the promise of his roommate being out for the night. The awkward run in with yours the last time makes him thankful for his home base advantage. Walking side by side cutting through the neighborhoods to avoid the major streets, your shoulders brush and fingers interlock under the glowing yellow street lights.

The sound of your low humming catches his ears, curious chocolate eyes giving you their undivided attention. It was the song that interrupted you back at the bar and a hint of a small smile plays at the corners of your mouth when you feel his stare on you.

“I didn’t peg you for an Eddie Money fan.” His teasing words turning your hint of a smile into a full blown face splitting grin.

“Sometimes I dabble in the mainstream.” Shrugging nonchalantly you throw him a sideways glance pleased when you see the whites of his teeth. “It doesn’t always have to be hardcore and heavy metal all the time.”

Snorting he throws his head back in a loud mocking laugh knowing damn well you have the same taste in music as him. Too distracted he doesn’t catch the way your eyes stay trained on his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in the white gleam of the moon. His pale skin illuminating under its glittering light, the dark ink that covers every inch of him stands out even more, making all your words catch in your throat.

Eddie finally meets your gaze and he swears he can see the stars in your eyes, suddenly the ten minutes left of the walk seem like a lifetime. You couldn’t look at him like that and expect him to be patient. Smirking with devilish intent he doesn’t hesitate to grab your hips the way he’s wanted to all night.

Dipping into the alley he presses you hard against the quiet apartment building. Crowding your space he wastes no time letting his calloused fingers explore the sliver of skin exposed between your shirt and skirt. Relishing in the way your chest moves with your heavy breathing, you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you. You always did.

Collecting your lips in a bruising kiss, he hums against you when you meet his advances. The whiskey still lingering on your tongue tastes bitter sweet against the bourbon on his. Cherry red just like your lips, your nails drag against the roughness of his happy trail hidden under his shirt. He shivers from your touch - a growl he can’t stop releasing from his throat, your tongue catches it with ease and lets it mingle with your own.

The blunt ends of your nails drag across his sweat slick skin, the humidity from the day finally setting in. He knows there’s going to be marks as they dig in when he sucks that special spot behind your ear. His badge of honor.

“Let me take care of you real quick.” He always wants to but his body aches with the kind of need that could set a whole forest on fire. “I need to taste you baby.”

There’s a ringed hand already under your skirt, fingertips skimming across the damp fabric between your legs. His words make your hips search for more, the smallest amount of pressure hitting against your bundle of nerves has you moaning his name.

“You’re gonna have to try and be quiet for me. Can you do that sweetheart?” Smirking to himself, he knows he’s asking for the impossible when he gets you worked up like this.

He pushes your panties to the side as two fingers slide through your wet folds. Coating them instantly — he doesn’t think you understand the power you have when you drip like this — just for him.

His shushes are gentle when his lips cover yours to swallow your gasp when he dips them in. Filling you till he hits the metal of his rings, your velvet walls constrict around him. Fluttering when he curves them to the side he’s hard enough to press uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans. Too lost in the way your body reacts to him, he ignores the pain.

Pulling away just enough to whisper “Be quiet” against your lips with a smile, you watch him with an open mouth and pinched brows when he drops to his knees. The loose rocks on the asphalt dig into the exposed skin from the rips in his jeans, but when he catches sight of the way you glisten on his rings he’s only got a one track mind.

He catches your whimper when he removes his fingers and another one when he sucks them clean. Sugar in your drinks all night he swears you taste just as sweet. Your hands twist themselves into the curls on his head, a soft yank and a nudge forward he can’t stop the way his eyes roll back. Pressing kisses to the inside of your sticky thighs, he nips at the dip of your hips before smoothing over them with his tongue.

Quick hands remove your underwear, stuffing the wet lace in his back pocket. Another one to add to his collection.

Usually he teases you more but the strain in his pants is getting worse and the looming threat of someone interrupting what he’s been thinking about all night has him burying his face in record time.

Closing his eyes when you coat his tongue, his hungry mouth starts lapping you up. The roundness of the end of his nose bumping against your clit with every stroke of his muscle in and out of your hole. With strong arms wrapped around your thighs he can hear the way you muffle your cries from under the hood of your skirt when he starts shaking his head from side to side.

The way your legs start to shake and your thrusts start meeting his face he knows you're close. Licking a stipe up your slit he starts focusing his efforts on your button of nerves but not before asking “Are you gonna cum?”

Nodding your head with eyes blown wide and the pink tinge of your lips peeking through the barely there lipstick that once coated them— he’s never thought you looked more beautiful than just like this.

“I want you to give it to me, baby.”

Maybe it was the liquor at the bar or maybe it was just you, but he felt like making you come apart like this was his sole purpose on this shitty earth. Especially when he hears you say his name all pretty like this, like you’re his.

Your fingers pull at his roots when you finally let go, gasping with a hand over your mouth. Nectar of the gods he’s always greedy when he gets what he wants from you so he doesn’t stop till you’re whimpering with a gentle hand to his forehead and a soft “Eddie” falling from your lips.

He leaves more open mouthed kisses on your thighs before coming up for the air he forgot he needed. His hands move to hold your wobbling waist. Dimples in his cheeks again when he smiles satisfied, he’s not expecting the way your fingers curl into his shirt and pull him down to your needy lips. Pressing his body weight against you again he thinks he could die like this.

——

tags: @munsonology @elthreetimes @munsonmunster @eddiesprincess86

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 jump then fall

pairing: harry potter x reader

warnings: tooth rotting fluff:p, no use of y/n, that’s all I think !!

1.6k words ^_^

You and harry had been friends since 2nd year, when you were both in the hospital wing alone, leading to a conversation. You and harry had accidentally fallen asleep in the cozy, warm common room after talking the previous night about random things, you had fallen asleep on Harry’s lap.

You had woken up before Harry, admiring your sleeping best friend, too engrossed by his ethereal face, you didn’t notice him stirring and waking up until he talked.

His raspy morning voice getting you out of trance, him laughing softly, the laugh that makes one’s heart flutter, the laugh that made your heart flutter. That exact moment was when you realized his laugh was the best sound you have ever heard. You had dug yourself in a hole far too deep to get out of.

You then realized he was talking, about who knows what, you heard the words but you were only thinking about how you two should be together. As he smiles while re-telling a story that happened to him last week (he already told you what happened a week ago) you also smile.

You never knew when these feelings for Harry started, but you never really fought them; it’s not like they could disappear. The thing is, you really wanted them to disappear, scared one day you’ll slip up and admit your feelings for Harry and ruin your friendship.

There were so many girls that wanted Harry, many that you thought were prettier, better suited for Harry. But oh how you wanted Harry to jump and fall onto you.

Too entranced, again, Harry had softy nudged your shoulders.

“It’s 6:30, breakfast just started, hurry and get ready so we can eat together.” With that, Harry had left to go get himself ready for the day.

You and Harry met up in the common room again, talking softly together making your way to the great hall. Ron and Hermione already there, food on their plates. You and Harry made your way to them, sitting across from them.

Harry’s hair couldn’t be anymore messier but oh how you loved the way falls on his face.

Not wanting to think of Harry anymore, you quickly grab food to put on your plate, Hermione lifting her eyebrows and smirking at you, she knew about your feelings for Harry. She had caught you staring at him for nearly 3 minutes straight in transfiguration, you later confessed that you indeed liked Harry.

You just loved how Harry was everything you ever wanted. His beautiful green eyes, soft raven hair, his personality. Oh you could just die from how perfect he is.

Realizing you’re zoning out again, you try to join into the conversation Ron and Harry were currently having.

However, your attention was immediately drawn to Harry, who seemed unusually subdued as he picked at his breakfast, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

Concern gnawed at your insides, and you leaned in closer to him, lowering your voice to a whisper. “Harry, is everything alright?”

Harry looked up, his emerald eyes clouded with worry. “It’s nothing, just… a headache. I probably didn’t get enough sleep last night. You know how noisy the common room can be. Maybe it’s more of a nap zone than a sleep spot.”

You had felt bad, knowing you were the reason he slept in the common room last night.

You studied him carefully, noting the faint lines of exhaustion etched across his features. “Are you sure? Maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey, just to be safe.”

Before Harry could respond, a sudden commotion erupted across the hall, drawing everyone’s attention. You turned to see a group of Slytherins huddled together, casting furtive glances in Harry’s direction.

Hermione’s gaze hardened, her instincts kicking into overdrive. “What are they up to now?” she muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

You felt a knot form in the pit of your stomach, a sense of foreboding settling over you like a heavy cloak. With tensions already running high, the last thing anyone needed was another confrontation with the Slytherins.

Harry’s hand tightened around his wand, his jaw set with determination. “I’ll go talk to them,” he said, his voice steady despite the unease swirling around him.

Before you could protest, Harry was on his feet, striding purposefully towards the Slytherin table. Your heart pounded in your chest, the fear of the unknown clawing at your senses.

As Harry disappeared into the throng of students, you exchanged a worried glance with Hermione, silently praying that everything would turn out alright. In times like these, the bonds of friendship were more important than ever, and you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

————————————————————————

As you and Hermione made your way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, the castle corridors echoed with the sounds of students bustling to their respective classes. The air hummed with anticipation, and a nervous energy seemed to permeate the stone walls.

Glancing sideways at Hermione, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh, your thoughts inevitably drifting to Harry. “I hope Harry’s doing alright,” you said, your voice laced with genuine concern.

Hermione shot you a knowing look, her brown eyes warm with understanding. “He’ll be fine, you know Harry. Always manages to come out on top, even in the trickiest situations.”

You nodded, trying to shake off the worry gnawing at your insides. “I know, it’s just… with everything going on lately, I can’t help but worry.”

Hermione placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, her touch grounding you in the present moment. “We’re all in this together. If Harry needs us, we’ll be there for him. That’s what friends do.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, grateful for Hermione’s unwavering support. “Thanks, Hermione. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Hermione returned your smile, her expression softening with affection. “You’d manage just fine, but it’s nice to know you have someone to lean on when things get tough.”

With Hermione’s words echoing in your mind, you felt a flicker of hope ignite within you. No matter what challenges lay ahead, you knew that as long as you had your friends by your side, everything would be alright.

Harry hurt, is what you are now thinking of, if he was hurt, what would you do?

In moments of darkness, when the weight of the world bears down on Harry’s shoulders, you find solace in the simple act of being there for him. If ever he’s wounded, aching with the scars of battle or the burden of destiny, you stand ready, arms outstretched like a fortress against the storm, ready to catch him before he falls.

And if there comes a time when Harry’s anger threatens to consume him, when the weight of injustice presses down upon his soul until he feels like he might shatter, you offer him sanctuary in the embrace of your arms. You hold him through the night, his tears mingling with the soft whispers of solace and reassurance, until the darkness recedes and he finds solace in the light of dawn.

In these moments of vulnerability, you see Harry as he truly is, a soul forged in the crucible of adversity, yet tempered by the warmth of friendship and the enduring bonds of love. His laughter, once a rare and fleeting thing, now echoes through the corridors of your heart, a melody of hope and resilience that speaks to the depths of your soul.

And so you pledge to stand by him, unwavering and unyielding, through the trials and tribulations that lie ahead. For in Harry, you see not just a friend, but a kindred spirit—a beacon of light in a world shrouded in darkness, a reminder that even in the bleakest of times, love will always find a way to endure.

————————————————————————

As you and Harry sat by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, the crackling of the flames providing a comforting backdrop, you both found yourselves engrossed in conversation. The air between you was charged with a palpable tension, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Harry glanced at the you, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary, before turning away with a faint blush coloring his cheeks. You felt your heart flutter at the intensity of his gaze, a warmth spreading through them like wildfire.

“I can’t believe it’s already our fifth year at Hogwarts,” Harry remarked, his voice soft with nostalgia. “Feels like just yesterday we were wandering the corridors, trying to navigate our way through the maze of secrets and mysteries.”

You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Time flies when you’re having fun, I suppose. But Hogwarts wouldn’t be the same without all the adventures we’ve shared together.”

Harry’s expression softened, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that took the reader’s breath away. “I couldn’t agree more,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And… I’m grateful for every moment we’ve spent together.”

Your heart skipped a beat at Harry’s words, the weight of their shared history washing over them like a tidal wave. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the common room and the flickering glow of the fire, you realized just how much Harry meant to you.

As they sat in companionable silence, the air charged with unspoken longing, it became clear that your feelings for each other were anything but one-sided. In the quiet intimacy of the moment, you and Harry found solace in the knowledge that this bond was deeper than friendship, and that love had found its way into both of your hearts when none of you expected it.

With a whispered promise and a love that knew no bounds, you and Harry surrendered to the pull of destiny, hearts beating as one in a symphony of love that would endure through the ages.

Jump, then fall, baby

Jump, then fall into me, into me

[allisluv]

BEDSHEETS

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

summary: you leak through the sheets on your period and finnick comforts you (i can not find the original requestc i’m super sorry!)

content warnings; mentions of blood, nothing else i can think of!

You pull your knees up to your chest, muffling your groan into your silk pillowcase. Your stomach cramps and it feels like someone is repeatedly plunging a burning hot knife into your abdomen. Finnick's warm hand is strewn across your waist, hugging you close to him and you. have to peel yourself from his strong grasp,

You've only been going out withh Finnick O'Dair for six months and you can hand on heart say they've been the best six months of your life. He's sweet, and kind, and he knows how to make you laugh. You know he wouldn't judge you for something as simple as a normal bodily function, but you can't help the dread that runs through your veins when you pull away and see the blood on his pristine white sheets.

Your mind immediately kicks into overdrive as you start to think of all the worst case scenarios. What if he asks you to leave? What if he thinks you're disgusting? God, you don't think you'll ever be able to look him in the eye again.

You slip out of bed and into the en-suite bathroom with your overnight bag slung over your shoulder. Changing out of your sleep shorts, you dispose of your pad and pull a clean pair of underwear and pyjama bottoms up over your legs.

It takes every ounce of self-control you possess not to lock yourself in the bathroom and hope the ground swallows you up. In the end, logic outweighs the impulse to hide and you go back into the bedroom. Your throat is beating so hard that you worry it might jump out of your chest.

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you don't see any other option but to wake Finnick up and asl him to get up. He's built like a twig, but he's also made of muscle, and it would be almos impossible to move him without waking him.

You shake his shoulder gently, and he nuzzles into his pillow, hands patting the empty side the bed. His brows knit together and a frown tugs at his lips when he doesn't find you next him. He calls your name and his eyes flutter open, lashes kissing his sun-tanned skin.

"Hi," you whisper tentatively. The heat has rushed to your face and you duck your head, using your hair as a curtain to shield you from his dazed but watchful eyes.

Finnick sits up straight, propping himself up on his elbows. All traces of tiredness has slipped from his features, replaced with a concern that makes you want to burst into tears, mostly out of embarassment than anything else. "What's wrong, honey?"

"I, uh--" you trail off, trying to duck your head again. Finnick's far too quick, though, and cups your face in both his hands, coaxing you to look him in the eye. "I need to change sheets," you blurt out. "I got my period early and I kind of leaked on your sheets. I'm so sorry."

Finnick looks at you like you've grown three heads in the span of a few minutes. "Why on earth are you apologising, honey?" He smooths your hair out of your eyes and your frown deepens, confusion evident on your face. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he clarifies. “It can’t be helped.”

"But... but I ruined your sheets!" You wail, feeling tears sting at your eyes as you bury your head in your hands. Finnick chuckles and wraps you into his arms, not caring about the fact that you're soaking his shirt. "It's not funny!"

"They're just sheets, baby," Finnick coos. "They can be washed. There's no need to panic." He waits until your chest stops heaving to ask, "Are you in pain?" He feels you nod into his chest. "Oh, baby. You should've woken me up earlier. Do you want me to get your heating pad?"

You pull away from him, wiping at your flamed cheeks. "You don't have to do that."

"It's not a matter about having to. I want to," Finnick admits. "Look, why don't I swing by Mags' house and see if I can score some of that chocolate I know you like? And then when I come home, we can snuggle up on the couch. How does that sound, hm?"

You nod as the calloused pads of his fingers trace over the lines of your palm. "But what about the sheets?"

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about that," Finnick says as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants. "Just make sure you have some popcorn ready for our movie night when I come home."

"Finnick?" You ask as he tugs a t-shirt over his head.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Thank you."

He pecks your cheek and presses another kiss to the crown of your head. "I won't be long."