#storm and jean can fly

[cherikdogfood]

Anyone remember that meme/joke from Avengers Civil War? The one where Natasha looks at her teammates, and everyone has suits except her, and she's kinda glaring?

Yeah well I was watching X-Men 97 and I thought about it. In ep. 8, Jubilee complains that everyone in the team can fly except her.

Then in Ep. 9, Magneto asks the X-Men who would like to join him. I know she wouldn't do this (I mean this post is just crack, okay), but imagine if Jubilee agreed to Magneto's proposal.

It would go like this:

Magneto: So, who will join me?

Rogue: *flies to his side*

Roberto: *flies to his side*

Jubilee: I'll join you.

Magneto: Then come here.

Jubilee: ...

Magneto: Having second thoughts?

Jubilee: No... I can't fly damn it!

Magneto: ...right, I forgot. *Levitates her to him*

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Let Me Prove It

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> After months of grieving for Logan, he proves to you he's not going anywhere.

Disclaimer: Descriptions of death, blood, reader goes through grief of losing Logan. Angst, sadness, some fluff. There is a happy ending. Illusions to smut towards the end. Not Proof Read.

You could remember the day you fell in love with Logan Howlett. 

It had been a rainy afternoon. Nothing grand had happened that day. The kids had been in classes all day, most exams were happening all week but by Friday, they’d all be over for the semester. There was stew, heating up on the stove, and you had been reading your book. 

At least, you’d been trying to. 

Often, your mind would wander off on its own and only half way through your train of thought would you realise you had boarded the wrong train and it was already moving. And just like a flash of a meadow, snapping past one of the compartment windows, you discovered you had feelings for Logan. 

And watching him walk through the backdoor only a moment later, confirmed your thoughts. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

Your train came to a halt and you snapped up, focusing on reality. “What?”

Logan grumbled. “Nothing. Dinner ready?”

“Almost. Storm’s looking for you, by the way. She wants to know if you can cover her class next week. She’s got a doctor's appointment and no one’s available.”

Logan still had his back turned as he looked in the cupboard for something. “Sure. What class?”

“History. What are you looking for?”

Logan didn’t fully answer you. He just mumbled a noise before pulling a small box out from the back and closing the door. Turning around he opened it up, took a cookie out before offering it to you. 

“She got a lesson plan?”

Looking down at your book, you dog-eared the page. Sometimes, you’d use a bookmark but considering most of them would disappear without a trace and leave you fending for yourself to find your page again, hours after you’d read it, you gave up on them. 

“Yeah, she’s already left it in your room.”

“Of course she has.” Logan took another bite of his cookie and rounded the kitchen island. 

Your gaze followed him. Mostly out of curiosity. You and Logan were friends. Not best friends. But good friends. Well…

Good enough friends. 

Could you really be in love with him?

Reaching up into the top cupboard, he brought down the set of bowls and took half from the top. 

“You take the rest.”

And for the next ten minutes, you both laid out the table in time for dinner. 

Then you watched as he helped some of the younger kids with their hot meals. Despite all of his grumbling and his small protests when it came to calling him the best baby-sitter. 

Logan was good with kids. 

Yep. 

You were in love with Logan. 

And just like how you could remember the day you fell in love with Logan, you could also remember the day he died. 

It had torn you to pieces. 

It still did. 

It had been on a mission. You’d all faced worse before. And yet, somehow, nobody was prepared for what was about to happen. Everything blew up. Quite literally. You had been helping some of the kids to safety with Storm and Scott. Scott had left half way through, running to find Jean and help her. Storm had given him cover, as well as the kids. 

And once you knew the kids were in safe hands on the jet, you ran back. 

Only, when you got to the top of the hill, having skidded to a halt only to catch yourself on a rotting tree, you looked down to see for the first time, the image that would be forever imprinted in your mind. 

Logan and Jean were at the bottom. Scott had made it just in time to hold his girlfriend back when Logan took the brunt of the attack. It sent him flying and when he fell to the floor, your gut twisted. 

Usually, he’d get up. 

But something was off. 

He wasn’t getting up. Not as quickly, anyway. 

And when he did, an attack came sooner than anyone else had expected. 

Straight through his stomach and a second through his side, Logan was impaled to the tree before being torn from it, sent flying forward with the tentacle branches before being pulled off and sent flying to the ground. 

You remembered screaming his name along with the others before running forward. Storm had made it there before you, but you were the first on your knees beside him, trying to check for any healing that was starting. 

It wasn’t. 

You heard the muffled voices of the rest of the team in your ears, fighting against your own heartbeat as you looked down at Logan. He was bleeding out and fast. 

The bodies beside you disappeared and followed after the attacker and soon everything became…

Silent. 

The ringing in your ears had stopped, your ears had gotten used to your own heartbeat, and you tried your best to focus on Logan. 

His eyes were closed. Begging him through your own tears for him to open his, you took his hand. Feeling for his pulse, it was weak. And getting weaker. 

“Logan…please. Please don’t do this.”

Then your hearing focused on his heartbeat. Each beat took longer to come after the other until finally, with one weak squeeze of goodbye to your hand, Logan died. 

The hours that followed after that became a blur. 

The man you loved but had never told had died in front of you. You had heard his heartbeat stop. You had felt his last goodbye. He never got any last words. Just one last touch. 

And every night that followed after that, you re-lived it. Over and over and over again. Each night, the same. Logan. The branches. The blood. The pulse. The heartbeat. The touch. The silence. 

Sometimes you’d wake just as he touched your hand, the ghost of a feeling left on your palm as you woke. 

The others never bothered to ask. At least, not after the first time you had told them. The Professor had gathered you all in his office after everything had happened. And all you could think of was that Logan’s body was lay, lifeless, underneath the school. 

He had asked you what had happened and, with your arms folded and your eyes on the ground, you answered him. 

“He wasn’t healing. There wasn’t anything I could do. He died,” you explained before looking up at the Professor and giving him Logan’s time of death. “May I go now? I want to make sure the kids are okay.”

The Professor excused you and you left as quickly as you could, the door slamming a little louder than you had meant. 

And for the next two months, you…kept yourself busy. 

People talked about Logan, they were determined to keep his memory alive. But they didn’t have to go to bed at night, just for his memory to die again. Each morning, you seemed to wake up earlier than usual. And with the feeling of Logan’s hand against yours, you busied yourself as best as you could. 

Grading papers, alphabetising the library, cleaning every possible surface including the ceilings, constantly doing the laundry. Weeding out the garden, planting some new flower beds. Fixing the creaky wooden board in the hallway, painting the doors and wooden boards between the windows. Trimming the bushes, scrubbing the pots (even the old ones that weren’t in use anymore). 

You did anything and everything you could. Mostly to keep your mind busy but party because you hoped, if you tired yourself out enough, you might have caught a break. Made it one night through without re-living Logan’s death. 

But all of that changed one afternoon when you were called to the Professor’s study. 

Where you came face to face with…

Logan. 

Everyone was confused. 

Apart from the Professor. 

And throughout the meeting you remained quiet. Obviously, everyone was angry at the fact the Professor had kept such a big secret. 

“We didn’t know if it would work and we didn’t want anyone to have to re-live their grief.” The Professor explained. “It was a shot in the dark.”

“How is this even possible?” Storm asked as she sat down. 

“It seems Logan’s healing abilities were simply weakened. He needed help to heal. Medical help that not I, nor I’m afraid even you, Jean, could give him. There is a doctor I know, based in Alberta. She helped boost Logan’s healing factor and made sure that whatever had weakened him was no longer in his system.”

There was a little more explaining to do, but you could feel yourself drifting from the conversation. You just kept looking at Logan as he stood by the window and the Professor’s desk. 

He had his back turned when you had walked inside, the others all looking confused and annoyed, having to wait for you before they got their explanation. 

He had died. 

You had seen him die. 

You had felt him die. 

And yet, there he stood. His hands in his pockets, looking around the room, breathing and living as if nothing had even happened. 

Not long after all the explanations, everyone got to voice their opinion and you came last. Everyone looked at you, including Logan. 

And all you wanted to do was run.

To him or away from him, you couldn’t quite tell. 

So, with a breath, you forced a half smile and nodded. “It’s good to have you back. Professor, may I go? I’ve got a class that’s about to start.”

“Of…of course. I would have thought-”

Reaching for the door, you looked back. “See you round, Logan.”

Just before you closed the door, you heard Storm announce her way to Logan to give him a hug. But even the Professor couldn’t concentrate on that because he couldn’t help but notice there was something different about you. 

Of course, he’d noticed you’d been keeping yourself busy. Missing out on family dinners, eating yours when you found the time later on in the evening, cleaning up the classrooms after hours, doing a little touch ups here and there with a smaller paint can and paintbrush. 

Little did he know, you had just been filling in the spots you had missed the day before. 

But he had figured you had been like the others. Itching to hug Logan. Being glad he was alive and breathing. 

Instead…

You had barely said two words and had left as soon as you could. 

“Are you okay?” Storm asked you later that night when you were cooking dinner. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Storm lifted herself onto a stool opposite you. “I don’t know. You just didn’t seem…excited about Logan being back.”

“Of course I’m excited he’s back.”

“Then would it kill you to show it?” Storm asked, half jokingly. “Here, let me help.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay, I’m almost done.”

Storm moved her hands away from your chopping board slowly. “Okay. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You smiled. “Ororo, I’m fine. Scouts honour. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

You shrugged, forcing your mind back to reality. “Nothing. It’s just been a long day, s’all.”

Later that evening, you found yourself alone in your classroom. The others were down the hall having dinner but you had found yourself something to do. You could have gone down but whether out of habit of the last two months or fear, you didn’t wish to join them. 

Your appetite had already been worse for wear over the last couple of weeks. If you were sat at the table, across from Logan, you wouldn’t have been able to even think about eating. 

So, taking another bite of your sandwich, you turned back to your essays. 

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Logan looked around the table. You were missing. 

“Whose turn was it to cook tonight?” Logan asked. 

“Y/n’s.” Jean told him. “She’s been making most of the meals lately. Guess she just got the cooking bug.”

“But she’s not here.”

Jean shrugged it off. “She’ll probably get some later.”

“Where is she?” He asked as he went to stand. But Jean stopped him. 

“Oh, no. Stay. Come on, Everyone needs to catch up.”

“Catch up on what?” Logan asked. “I’ve been in a hospital in Alberta for two months.”

“Please, just…stay. Besides, Y/n’ll appear when she wants. She’s probably busy.”

And after a little bit more convincing, Logan stayed. You’d left so abruptly that morning, he questioned if you even wanted to see him at all. 

It continued like that for a week. 

At first, Logan tried to convince himself you weren’t avoiding him. But as the week went on and he began to see less of you inside his routine, he knew you had to be. 

And then he began to notice things. 

Everything seemed cleaner than when he had left. And brighter. Fresher, even. The doors had been given a paint job. Despite it being dry, he could still smell the aroma of fresh paint in the air. The halls were less creaky when he walked down them. The cupboards were tidier. He could find his cookies with ease now. 

And despite the fact he didn’t read all that much, he knew the library had changed. Even the books that no-one ever touched. There wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen near them. And one of his personal favourites – a book he tended to read around winter, where the cover was falling off and the pages were falling apart – had been binded to look like new.

So, taking action into his own hands, he went to look for you. 

And it wasn’t long before he found you. 

You had escaped him when he saw you planting fresh flowers in the garden, and you had escaped him when you had brought in the groceries having used Storm as a distraction for you to slip out of the kitchen once everything was away. 

But he had found you in the library. 

Once again, you hadn’t come to dinner, making up an excuse that you needed to work. And Logan knew for a fact you hadn’t left to come and get your dinner yet so, he brought it to you. 

“Thought you might be hungry.”

You looked up but Logan had already heard the change in your pulse. 

“Oh…thanks. You can just leave it there.”

And he did. 

“You’ve got to eat at some point.”

“I will,” you looked back up at him. “Soon. I promise.”

This was the longest conversation you’d both had since he got back. So, he took a seat across from you. 

“What are you working on?”

“Work.”

Logan smiled. “Funny.”

Then the silence washed over you both. But he didn’t want it to stick. “Y/n?”

You hummed a response. 

“Can you look at me?”

Your heartbeat seemed to jump and you took in a discrete breath. Finally seeing your face, Logan smiled. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve not been avoiding you.” You looked back at your work. 

“Yes, you have.”

“What makes you say that?”

Logan gave you a list. “The constant work, the avoidance of dinners, the silent treatment. Did I do something?”

You shook your head. “You haven’t done anything, Logan.”

“Then can you look at me when you tell me that so I might believe you.”

Finally, you looked at him. 

“Tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on.”

Logan asked again. “What’s going on?”

You laughed, nervously. “Nothing’s going on. Logan, I’m fine.”

“Are you? Because you’ve been avoiding me since I got back and- what? What is it?”

You laughed again, except this time you didn’t know how you’d describe it. 

“‘Got back’ you repeated his words. “You say that as if you left for a vacation. You died, Logan. Or did you forget that?”

“No. Y/n. What’s going on?”

You shook your head and packed away your things as quickly as you could. “Forget I said anything. Thanks for dinner.”

“You didn’t even eat-” Logan watched you walk away from him again. 

He’d rather have you fight him than avoid him, so he pressed on. 

“Talk to me.” Logan followed after you. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. It’s late, Logan. Go to bed.”

“Only when you do.”

“What?” You asked. 

“Your bedroom, it’s upstairs, down the hall from mine. In the opposite direction. The only thing this way is your classroom.”

“I’ve got to finish grading.”

“It’s almost midnight.”

You shrugged. “What teacher doesn’t get enough sleep?”

“Something is going on. Something has been going on. For a while. Please,” Logan begged. “Just tell me what it is.”

You stopped in your tracks. “Do you really want to know what it is?”

“Yes.” Logan nodded, stopping in front of you. 

“Okay then, I’ll tell you.”

And you did. 

“I watched you die, Logan. I heard your heart stop. I watched as blood pooled out of your body with no way for me to stop it. Even after three scalding hot showers, I still had your bloodstains on my skin, under my nails and on my clothes. Every night when I close my eyes, I re-live it. Everything. Every tiny detail. And the silence afterwards…it’s deafening. Sometimes I wake up, still feeling the pressure you put into my hand. Sometimes it’s still there hours after I wake up. I had spent every single day keeping myself busy, finding extra work for myself, just to make sure that I don’t start daydreaming about the waking nightmare I had to watch you go through. I had spent the last two months going over and over in my head what I would say to you if I ever saw you again. But I could never bring myself to do it, because I had watched you die. I had felt you die. So, please. Forgive me if I’m not jumping with joy because I can miraculously forget what happened, like everyone else.”

Logan let your words wash over him. No one had told him. He had a sneaking suspicion they hadn’t because even they didn’t know. Maybe they never asked. Maybe they just hadn’t noticed. 

Gaining back your breath, you went to turn away. 

“Goodnight, Logan.”

Closing your classroom door behind you, you silently locked it and pressed your back against it feeling your entire body start to shake. Slowly, your legs went from underneath you and you lowered yourself to the ground by sliding down the door. You tried your best to squeeze your tears back into your eyes with the heels of your hands, but nothing could stop them. 

Not now. 

Not when you had just admitted the truth to the one man you never thought you would see again. 

Three times Logan turned back to your classroom door, ready to walk inside. But he didn’t know what he would say. 

So he waited. 

Back in his room, he waited to hear the door to your room close. 

And after two hours, he finally did. 

And before he knew it, his feet were carrying him towards your door. Only, he stood there for ten minutes, unsure of what to do with himself. 

At some point, he finally knocked. 

Turning off the tap by the sink, you hung up your flannel onto the radiator bar and dried off your face when you heard the soft knock at your door. 

There was only one person who could have been up so late. 

He knocked again after a minute or two. 

And you opened up the door. 

Whatever Logan had just semi-prepared in his mind, slipped away. He was going to say something. But looking at you, standing in front of him…all words failed him. 

And the longer he stood in front of you, the louder the reminder came to you that he wasn’t dead. He was alive. He could be shot with twelve live rounds and the bullets would pop right back out of his skin. His claws would flare out and he’d be Wolverine. They’d retract and his skin would heal instantly. There would be no evidence that anything had ever happened. 

Then six words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them. Before even your brain could register the thought. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Logan felt his chest crack and his heart impale with pain. 

Pushing the door open a little wider, his arms engulfed you in an embrace that would forever be imprinted on your soul. Your own arms wrapped around him, trying to remember the feel of him both physically and spiritually in case the day ever came where you truly would never see him again. 

That if this was going to be your only memory of him, you could never, ever forget it. 

Lifting you up in his embrace for a moment, Logan walked further inside your room, kicking the door shut with his foot. Even if no one else was awake, he didn’t want to risk anyone walking by. Clearly, no-one else knew what you had been living through in your nightmares. And he didn’t want anyone else to share this moment between himself and you.

“You spared me the pain of being alone.” Logan whispered into your hair. “I was less scared because you were there.”

“I couldn’t have left you.” 

Your tears were back to rolling down your cheeks. “I’m sorry about everything you had to go through.”

Logan softly kissed away your tears, wiping the others away. 

You took in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Logan shook his head. “You saved me. You stayed with me.”

“But-”

With both your eyes closed, and Logan’s, you felt his forehead touch yours as his hands cradled your cheeks. “I’m real, Y/n. I’m alive.”

You felt Logan take your hand and press it to his chest, over his heart. His heartbeat was mostly steady, if a little quick. Spreading your fingers across his chest, you felt it rise and fall with his breathing. 

“I’m alive,” he kept repeating. “I’m alive.”

Logan’s breath was drawing closer to yours. “Logan…”

“Let me prove it to you.”

And you let him.

Capturing your breath in a kiss, Logan remained soft at first. He didn’t want to scare you. He didn’t want you to jump and run away from him like you had done only a few hours before in the library. 

But then you kissed back. 

So he moved his hands through your hair and over your body until you were pressed against him as close as you possibly could be. 

Your own hands pulled him in closer by his neck whilst the hand he’d placed over his heart remained fixed in its position. 

Logan was proving to every sense in your body he was real. That he was alive. Almost counteracting the memory that had been drawn from a waking nightmare. 

And as he lifted you up, your back soon pressing against the wall, you and Logan knew he would be spending the rest of the night doing exactly what he told you he wanted to do. 

Prove it to you. 

As morning rolled around, you felt a warm body next to you, tangled not only in you but also your sheets. 

Logan. 

His arms practically caged around you, you recalled every single detail from the night before. Your argument in the hallways, the classroom, the knock at the door, the hug, the kiss, the proof. 

And then, you felt yourself, for the first time in months, give a real smile. 

Lowering your head, you buried yourself in between Logan’s chest and your bedsheets, feeling his arms tense at your movement, holding you in the bed without a way of escape. 

And as your body reacted to his touch you realised something. 

For the first time since his death, you hadn’t had a nightmare. You hadn’t seen his death play on repeat inside your head. And the touch you were feeling wasn’t in your hand but rather all across your body. 

Parts were aching with a soreness you never quite knew was possible and later when you would look in the mirror, you would find fingertip bruises by your hips, love bites leading down your hip bone and on your inner thigh. Smaller ones were also dotted around your collar and neck, but a rather prominent one was yet to be left by the crook of your neck from behind where Logan’s lips would find themselves before you got into a fresh shower, Logan joining almost immediately. 

But until then, you’d revel in the feeling of Logan’s constant heartbeat against your hand, and for a moment your lips as you kissed his skin. Before he woke up and proved to you time and time again how real he was and how much the memory that had plagued you for two months was something that, although wasn’t easy to forget about, could become something of a distant memory. 

And for the rest of your lives, he would make sure to do exactly that.

[8lyme]

Why do I have to lose you?

Logan Howlett x reader (gender unspecified)

Part 2

SUMMARY: You and Logan are being chased down by the military after a group of mutants attempted to set fire to the White House. The school instantly became a target. While trying to protect the school in a damaged X-jet, Logan decides your fate for you.

WARNINGS: Sad and a little graphic.

a/n: I am fr gonna do a pt 2 i just didnt want to make this super long like it will probably end up being also again pls give me a break i just gotta free this shit from the straight jacket it's in inside my brain

Within seconds of news footage airing, the whirring of chopper blades surrounded the school.

Since jet takeoff, Storm and Jean had jumped out to help on the ground. Both diverted most of the attacks away from the jet. You and Logan had flown over the masses of machinery that were crawling toward the school. Tanks and trucks filled with armoured soldiers and explosives gathered just outside the tree line. The explosives packed under the jet had long-since run out, hardly making a dent in the wall of troops.

The sensors in the X-jet are whirring, alarms flashing red and blaring. Almost as loud as tornado sirens. You're gripping at the controls, straining at keeping the jet level while a thruster sputters out. A lurch knocks the cabin as another sensor drums on. You pull on a lever to the side of the console in front of you as a hasty attempt to divert power back to the fizzling thruster.

"I think the jet took a hit," Logan calls out loudly over the screech of the alarms.

"No fucking shit!" You call back shakily, head pounding and heart hammering. The windshield is fogged from smoke damage and beginning to crack on the left side.

"You need to fly out of here!" Logan calls again, his voice near monotone.

"Again, no fucking shit!" You whip around to face him and use the opportunity to flip off the interior electricity. The cabin is only illuminated by the windshield, but you can't see Logan.

"We need to land" you say to the shadows of the bay. You glance around, still white-knuckling the controls before calling out "Logan?"

"Let me out" he responds, walking out from the base of the hangar. "Drop the hangar and let me jump out. I can get past the front line and set off the explosives in the trucks"

"Are you stupid? You'll plaster to the ground on impact" you tell him, turning back to the windshield in time to pull away from a stray rocket.

He comes behind you and grips onto your shoulder, forcing you to look his way again.

"Open the hanger and let me jump out" He says firmly. "And then get the hell out of here."

"I don't think you understand how physics works, Logan! I can't bring this jet more than fifteen hundred feet above the ground. You will literally splatter to the ground if you jump from that high."

His grip on your shoulder tightens, saying "I'll survive."

You pull away from him to face the console. "Have you survived a fall from this high before?" You ask over the roar of the thrusters.

"Will you listen to me?" He yells to you, taking your face in his hands. "You need to get out of here. I'll regenerate, you won't! My bones are indestructible -" And you cut him off.

"Your tendons aren't adamantium!" You yell to him, smacking his chest with the side of your hand for emphasis. "Your muscles aren't adamantium and your organs aren't adamantium! The second you jump out of this jet you will get shot out of the sky. How do you know you'll survive getting literally blown up?"

You try not to cry, sucking in a breath in an attempt to stop the stinging behind your eyes. His face is firm. He pulls the straps of your harness so you face him fully.

"You won't survive if this jet gets shot out of the fucking sky!" Logan shouts. "Open the hangar and get the hell out of here!"

"There is no reason for you to jump out of this jet, you self-sacrificial piece of shit!" You're trying to yell firmly, but your breath is shaky and your vision starts to blur. Suddenly, the spring of the chair unlocks and Logan clicks on the jet's autopilot and pushes your chair away from the console, locking it feet away from the controls.

"Logan!" You go to unlock the clasps of your harness as he pulls away from you. He must've crushed the buckles while you were fighting, because you can't unclasp yourself. Panicking, you whip around to try and face him while yanking at the harness as hard as you can.

He's walking toward the hangar while the door loudly begins to unlatch.

"Stop it!" you beg. "I am not going to scour these woods for your metal bones to put you back together and hope that you regenerate!" You begin to sob, pulling at your straps fruitlessly.

He marches back toward you, shouting "And I am not going to watch your empty casket go into the ground!" over the wind. You can see the hurt and panic on his face. He looks furious, but you know how terrified he feels. "I am not going to lose you."

The hangar is wide open now. Crackles of explosions sound off in the background.

"Why do I have to lose you?"

The furrow in his brow softens a little. He moves closer to bend and cup your cheek with his hand. You grip tightly onto his uniform as he kisses you, hoping in vain that you're strong enough to stop him.

Logan pulls away to the sound of the hangar beginning to close. He pries your fingers off him, turns away, and jogs to the lip of the closing door. You watch him leap out as the groan of the door comes to a stop.

Part 2 will be linked here!

[rotthepoet]

Come Home (Dark!Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

Notes; DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Matty has been plaguing my mind and I need an outlet omg. I lowkey rewrote some lore for this, so essentially the battle of Hogwarts takes place but Voldemort's influence still lives on through Mattheo, who basically runs the new Knights of Walpurgis(The slytherin boys). Everyone is evil, all good business. 

Warnings; again, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Mattheo, Murder/death/gore, stalking, kidnapping, mattheo might highkey be ooc but its fine, dubcon(reader REALLY wants him but like.. morals?), oral(F! And M!), mention of fem masturbation, predator/prey dynamic, spitting, degradation, lowkey breeding kink?, piv, lowkey porn with plot, Stockholm syndrome if you squint, at least he kinda gets a redemption arc

This one goes out to my beautiful @nottswitch i hope dark!mattheo comes to life and fucks us both <3

Word count; 6.3k

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

The bitter breeze in the frigid air pricks through my thin shirt as the diner door swings open and shut again as a customer disappears into the icky black of our winter night. I stare out after him, a farewell unspoken on my lips as I cast my gaze towards an orange, flickering lamp post lining the parallel street, and I realize how truly cold it is inside the shabby eatery. 

As I tug the embarrassingly short, mandated skirt I'm forced to wear, I can only think of the comforting and safe walls of Hogwarts, my home only months ago, yearning for the soft crackle of a fireplace and the ambient chatter of portraits lining the walls. The muggles had nothing as interesting, nothing as familiar as the light of the silver moon passing through the large windows of the great hall. Nothing as comfortable as my own home back in England, with my mother and fathers smiling faces. Nothing as comfortable as the safe, unscarred arms of the once-kind boy I loved what feels like so long ago. 

Being on the lam for about a month now, I've been skipping towns and laying low where I can. It’s not often, but when I'm able to stay in a town for longer than a week, I take pitiful muggle jobs, my current being to take orders at a local diner, “famous for their milkshakes”, although fame must mean four regular visitors in this nowhere town. 

Jean, the gray-haired woman who owns the diner I work at, leans over the counter and points at the analog clock hanging on the wall. It reads almost 1:30, and it finally sets in how tired I am. She hums and looks me up and down, standing in the middle of the floor, standing stiff as a board while holding a broom. She clicks her tongue and shakes her head, a small smile gracing her aged face. 

“I’m sorry, I zoned out.” I apologize, leaning the non-flying broom against a nearby booth, and smooth out my wind-swept hair. 

Jean just shakes her head, “Go on and head home. You did good today.” she hums in approvement, tossing me my room key that was previously hanging on a hook in the kitchen. “Be careful out there, the papers said another storm is coming.” she warned, but a storm is the furthest thing from my mind as I push open the door. Silver light flashes across the street and my heart nearly stops beating, a pit forms in the bottom of my stomach. My eyes squint, finally adjusting to the lack of light, catch the face of a mannequin in the window of a shop. I let out a breath I don’t realize I’m holding and relax as I realize the moon had simply caught the silver details on the faux person. I turn on my heel and carry on down the dimly lit pavement towards my motel. 

It’s just as run down as everything else in this town, water stains stretching across the ceiling like swatches of muddy paint, and the hideous carpet crunches underneath my feet. It isn’t much. It is nothing, in fact, but a roof over my head and sanctuary from the ruthless dangers outside. 

I drop each article of clothing from my body onto the yellowing tile of the bathroom floor, stepping into the freezing cold water of the shower. I shudder, goosebumps racking through my body as I allow the water to wash away the grease and sweat, I collected today. I run a baby blue loofa over my skin, suds washing away with the now lukewarm stream. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, and the smell of metallic rust from the old pipes fills my nostrils. 

Blood. So much blood. It covers my hands, and my knees, my face, and my clothes. I practically wade through a pool of it, the dark hallways of that god awful manor stretch on infinitely, and the smell of rot and decay suffocates my senses. My heart nearly beats out of my chest as his strong arms wrap around me as I collapse to the floor, and I'm hyper aware of the many motionless bodies lying at my feet. His lips brush against my neck, rough and wet, and I wonder if they have blood on them too. I wouldn’t put it past him. Malicious is not a word I thought I would ever use to describe my lover, the man I thought I was going to marry one day, but like many other things before, he proved me wrong. His warm hands caress the soft fat of my thighs, slipping underneath the loose fabric of my shorts, and he leans into my ear. “They’re all gone now… Let’s go take a shower.” 

I release a shaky breath and turn off the water, letting it drip from my head and down my face, mingling with salty tears. Wiping my face with my wet palms, which did nothing in retrospect, I sigh. I can’t go back there; I can never go back there. It isn’t safe anymore. He isn’t safe anymore. Come on, I can’t keep feeling bad for myself. This is ridiculous, and as I step out of the shower and dress myself, I feel a newfound sense of determination. Sleep, for the first time in months, finds me easily with her warm embrace. 

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

As most things in my life do, my high spirits came to an abrupt end. Smoke fills my lungs, but there's a strange taste to it. It’s not a fire, no, it was tobacco. A smell I was all too familiar with. I sat up in bed, and my eyes met the inky black eyes of his silver, skull mask. My breath catches in my throat, only for me to cough out the smoke from his cigarette.

He couldn’t have found me this easily. It’s a bad dream, it has to be. Merlin forgive me, God save me, tell me this is just a dream! The mask on his face shifts a little, clearly amused at my coughing fit. “Have anything to say?”

Say anything. Stop gaping at him like a fish, you are a powerful witch, almost top of your class in DADA. Almost. Second place, notably. Right behind him.

Mattheo Riddle.

A sob racks through my body, tears falling down my cheeks before I even realize, and I’m paralyzed in place. Half of me wants to crawl into his arms, to beg for forgiveness, to beg for him to take me home. Home to that wretched, dark house, with blood seeped into the wood. With blood-stained grout on the kitchen tile. With blood-stained walls. So, so much blood. The other half of me screams at me to run. To run, to run, run, run, RUN! For god's sake, run! 

I push myself out of bed, fast enough to catch Mattheo by surprise. He flicks his cigarette to the side, letting it roll along the carpet floor. My hand reaches for my wand resting on a table beside the door as I duck out of his reaching arms, and I stumble to my feet as he lunges after me. I throw open the door, pulling it shut in his face as he screams for me.

“You bitch! Come back here!” he screams through the wood, struggling with the now sweat-slick doorknob. 

The door splinters open with the blast of, “Bombarda!”, but I scramble down the wet, cold streets, my bare feet scratch against the rough pavement as I sprint, thankful that it had been just warm enough to not freeze. I duck down another street, pulling out my wand to apparate elsewhere. I rack my brain for a safe location. Hogwarts? I might be able to, but I don’t want to risk splinching. My job? It might separate me long enough to get my shit together. 

Air is knocked out of me as a heavy body slams into mine, knocking my wand out of my hand. A heavy, black boot pins my wrist to the ground, and a silver mask that was not Riddle’s leans over me. He laughs under the mask, but I can’t tell which of his mentally fucked goons had caught me. I reach for my wand, but another set of boots kicks it out of my reach. Leather gloved hands grab my hair and lift me up to face the group now circling me. 

“She looks pitiful, really. Like an angry kitten.” An Italian accent draws next to my ear with a mocking snicker, and I thrash to kick Theodore Nott anywhere I can, luckily landing a solid blow to his shin. He curses in pain, and hisses something inaudible underneath his mask as he throws me back to the ground. The rough concrete scratches against my exposed skin, drawing blood from the soft flesh. I yelp in pain, landing at the feet of someone else. A black, steel-toed boot presses against my cheek, pushing my head to the side as I watch another figure ominously approach. I would recognize my Mattheo’s casual amble anywhere, and he peered down at my stray wand laying at his feet.

I don’t even have time to protest as he steps his boot onto the wood, sparks fizzing out around the magic object as it snaps under his weight. A choked sob escapes me as he approaches, my eyes wide with horror and betrayal.

“Enough of this, love. It’s time to come home,” He drawls, kneeling down to my level and lifting my chin to meet his empty gaze. “Be a good girl and come back to me, I’m tired of this little game of yours.”

“Fuck. You.” I spat on the silver of his skull-like mask, noting the wild look in my own eyes as the saliva slips down its reflective surface.

Mattheo groaned and tugged off his mask, and my breath caught in my throat. What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t think this awful man who betrayed me, threatened me, hunted me down, can still be attractive. Then again, he was still the man I had loved–part of me still does love– all those years ago. The handsome face I fell asleep looking at, the doe eyes I found comfort in. He looked roguish now, his brown curls were longer than the last time I had seen him, and he had a new scar running across his cheek from our last encounter. My mouth goes dry as he leans into my face, his breath hot against my lips. 

“I’ve missed you, love,” He practically purred, pressing his dry lips against my trembling ones. I whine against him, wriggling my body underneath the heavy weight of whoever was holding me. 

Mattheo groaned, gripping my chin harder, “You used to be so obedient, pet, but don’t worry. I’ll fix you.” he mumbled, kissing my forehead as I felt his wand pressed to my temple. He mumbled an incantation against my skin, and I felt my body go limp before my eyes closed themselves, and sleep consumed me. 

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

It was cold, damp, and reeked of copper and mold. My body laid on the floor, sore and unresponsive to my will to move. As my senses came back to me, I tried climbing to my feet, but a chain tugged my ankle back to the floor. I tumbled to the stone floor, scraping my hands against its rough surface. I whimper in pain, and only as I go to wipe my hands on my pants do I realize I’m completely nude. Horror racks through my body as I take in my surrounding and own appearance. I know I'm back in that old house, that old, disgusting, horrible house of horrors, and tears fall from my stinging eyes again.

I don’t know how long I laid on that floor, shaking from the cold as I sob into the air, screaming and cursing with conviction, damning Riddle’s name to an eternity in hell. I scream, and wail, and cry until I tire myself out, my voice breaking into nothing but a hushed plea for freedom. 

I fight sleep, sitting myself against a wall near my chain, breathing deep into my burning lungs. My eyes drift closed, but I will them open as the loud creak of a door alerts me. It’s only then that I notice a stairwell, casted in a white light with the newly opened door, and my heart nervously skips a beat as a tall shadow approaches the stairwell. The stairs creak under his weight as he descends to what I can only infer is a basement, and I stare up at his form.

Mattheo wasn’t nearly as scary like this, dressed in black slacks and a loose white shirt. Had he not been so threatening, and the reason I was chained to the basement floor, I would have swooned over the top buttons being undone. Perhaps I still do get butterflies in my stomach, but that may just be nausea. 

He looks down at me with an expression I can only describe as mock sympathy, clicking his tongue softly. “Down here for less than three hours and you’ve already managed to hurt yourself,” he scolded me, shaking his head in disappointment, “My clumsy girl, what am I going to do with you?” 

The smile he cracked made me want to claw his eyes out, or kiss him, and I worry that he may have slipped me a love potion. My ears ring, and my head suddenly aches with a mild pain, and Mattheo smirks.

“Like the shirt, do you?” He teased, kneeling down to my level. I curse under my breath, face heating up with anger (Or embarrassment, I can’t really tell), of course I forget he’s a legilimens. “Drop the act darling, I know you’re going to crack eventually. Save us both the trouble so I can finally bring you back to bed.” His warm hand tenderly caressed my cold cheek, and I fought the urge to lean into the comforting touch. “I hate seeing you down here like this, but you need to remember your place.”

My eyes snap back to his, and I whip my head to the side to bite his hand. He scowls and rips his hand away, reeling it back and back-handing me across the face. It knocks my breath out of my chest, and the rings on his fingers cut my cheek. Metallic blood drips to the floor. 

“Fine. Stay down here and bleed out for all I care.” He snaps, rubbing his sore hand as he turns on his heel and storms up the stairs. The door slams loudly behind him, and I’m engulfed in sudden darkness.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

My cheek and hands had long stopped bleeding the next time he came back, staining my skin red with its slick. My head lifts as the door opens again, and light makes my eyes dilate painfully. Mattheo trudges down the stairs, his head hanging low, and a small white box hanging from his hand. He approaches me and kneels at my level. I meet his gaze, glaring into his soft eyes.

“Darling, you know I didn’t mean to hit you, right?” He mumbled, holding my chin to twist my cheek towards him, his rough actions bringing tears to my eyes. “I was just so worked up, and you were pushing too many buttons, you’ll forgive me, right?” He asks hopefully, but I don’t answer him.

He sighs in defeat, opening the little box and retrieving a cloth and bottle full of a clear liquid. My eyes go wide, and I scramble backwards as far as the chain allows me to. “No, No, Mattheo please don’t-” I plead, heart racing as he looks at me with confusion.

A smile breaks across his face, “Oh darling, no, no, it’s just alcohol.” he laughs a bit, a deep sound that makes pleasant shivers run down my spine and too an embarrassing heat between my legs. What the fuck is wrong with me? He approaches me again, dousing the cloth with the solution before taking my hands. He shushes my soft whines as he presses it to my scraped palms, which makes me hiss at the burning sensation. “Good girl, there we go. That’s much better, isn’t it?” he asks as he takes a roll of gauze from the box and wraps each of my hands. He lifts my palms to his lips, pressing a storm of soft pecks and kisses to the gauze and skin. My face heats up at the gesture, and I force myself to look away. He was always so chivalrous for a monster, though it hurt to call him that even after everything.

He presses the cloth to my cheek next, his thumb tracing calming circles into the opposite cheek. “Such a pretty girl, my pretty girl.” He whispered, placing a bandage over my skin. Just like my palms, he kisses my cheek, though much slower and intimate this time. “I don’t want to hurt you, you know?” he promised, leaning over my trembling body. He looked down at me, eyes drifting past my collarbone, and he whistled softly. “A sight for sore eyes… and It’s all mine.” He smirked, leaning down as he supported his weight on his forearms. His chapped lips press suspiciously soft kisses to my neck. A loud thud coming from upstairs makes Mattheo groan and pull away. He looks down at me, wide eyed beneath him, “I’ll be right back, love, don’t worry your pretty little head.” He hummed, patting my cheek as he stood up. 

He casts me one last yearning glance before he shuts the door again, much softer this time. I lean back against the stone, releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and try to ignore the wetness between my thighs as I drift off to sleep.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I’m startled awake as the basement door slams shut, and heavy footsteps descend to my prison. Mattheo storms into view, and before I can even get a word out, he grabs me by the hair and pulls me up to my knees. He sneers down at me, and my head is spinning from the sudden switch up.

“Incompetent assholes. Have to do everything myself around here,” He mumbled, not really speaking to me rather than himself. He doesn’t loosen his grip on my hair as his other hand tugs apart the button of his slacks. 

My eyes go wide with shock, and he pulls my hair, forcing my chin up to look at him. “Open your mouth,” He demands, his voice lacking his previous warmth, and I'm reminded that this is not my Matty. My lip quivers and I shake my head slightly. Mattheo pulls his half-hard cock from the confines of his black briefs and pulls me by the hair to his tip. “I don’t have time for this attitude, I said open your mouth.”

I don’t even have a moment to react before his leaking tip is pressed against my mouth. He pushes his way past, groaning as my wet lips engulf his mushroomed tip. He pulls on my hair again, forcing himself further into my warm hole. “There you go, not so hard, was it? Now suck.” He orders in a tone I’ve never heard him use in bed before, and as he bucks his hips towards my face, I whine in protest while the ache returns to my lower stomach. My jaw relaxes on its own, familiar with the girth of his hung cock. An almost inaudible whine slips through my throat, and he groans at the tightness. One more tug lets me know his patience is running thin, and I reach my bandaged hand up to stroke the rest of him while I focus on his tip.

Mattheo bites back a moan, his hips stuttering as I descend further down onto his length. His leaky tip presses against the back of my throat, and he holds my head in place while he rocks his hips further into me. My nose presses against his groin as he slips down the back of my throat, and his grip moves from my hair to my throat, feeling my neck bulge with every movement. Saliva drips past him and down my chin, dribbling to the floor in thick droplets. He shudders as my throat tightens around him, nearly swallowing the head. 

“Yeah, yeah… Fuck baby. Keep going for me, almost there,” He mumbles, rocking his hips faster than before. I whine around him, my own hand slipping down to the ache at my core. My fingers gingerly brush against my clit, and the soft moan I try to let out makes Mattheo’s head roll back. Hot spurts of his seed shoot down my throat and my glossy eyes go wide at the feeling.

“Swallow,” Is all he says, and obediently, I do. He pulls my head off of him, his cum mixing with the drool in my mouth when it drips down my chin. He grips my face between his index finger and thumb, collecting the mess with a swipe of his finger and pushing it back into my sore mouth. “All of it.” 

When I satisfied him, he pushed me back to the ground, and I yelped in pain as I collided against the stone surface. “When I come down here, I want you on your knees waiting for my dick. Understand?”

I nod weakly, and he smirks down at me. “Good girl. Keep it up and maybe I’ll bring you back upstairs.” He says, before pulling back up his pants and running a hand through his hair. 

When he leaves again, I’m left with an unbearable, wet mess.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

With nothing else to do in my makeshift prison, I sleep a lot. And when I wake up, I force myself to sleep again. I sleep God knows how long before the door opens again, and Mattheo trudges down the stairs. I scramble to my knees, honestly fearing what might happen if I disobey him, and when Mattheo catches sight of me, he smiles. 

“There’s my pretty girl.” He hums, holding a platter with a bowl of something steaming, a slice of some sort of bread, and a bottle of water. My stomach growls as its divine aroma fills my senses, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten. 

Mattheo sits down in front of me and puts the tray between up. He rests his elbow on his knee and leans into his palm. “Eat,” he orders me, gesturing to the platter with the wave of his free hand. “Or would you prefer I feed you myself?” He asks with a smirk, watching how I shift from my knees to rest on my hip. I grab the water bottle first, chugging half of it in one go, before I subconsciously offer him a sip. What’s mine is his. Was his. Was. I look up at him, taking the water and sipping from it. I tore my gaze away before he noticed.

“I don’t want to stay in the basement anymore,” I mumble, dipping the bread into the soup before taking a bite, shivering at its deliciousness. Mattheo sighed and shook his head. “You know I can’t do that yet. You ran away, darling. I can’t trust you won’t do that again,” He explained, reaching his hand across the way to rub my knee soothingly. I sigh and push the tray away, my appetite gone. Mattheo frowned and moved the tray away, leaning over me. “Princess, c’mon, don’t be this way.” he hummed, pushing me onto my back. My heart rate quickened, and he definitely noticed. “But you’re right. I’ve been neglecting you… That’s why you ran away right? My poor girl was lonely and scared.” he hummed, pressing his lips to my collar bone. “Not anymore. My attention is solely on you, I promise.” 

My head rolled back a little, lolling onto the floor as he trailed his kisses down my sternum, stopping at my breasts to gently knead them. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I reached for his hair, tugging gently on his loose curls. He groaned in response, his lips finding my perked nipple and taking it into his warm mouth. His other hand slipped down my soft stomach, dipping between my thighs. Out of reflex, I squeezed them together, and Mattheo parted from my tit. He sat back on his haunches, using his strong, scarred hands to pull apart my thighs and admire my glistening, needy cunt.

“It’s been all about me, huh? Need to show my girls some love.” He mumbled, before dipping his head down. His warm breath fanned across my puffy lips, and I shivered at the breeze. He didn’t waste a second more, drawing a long, needy moan from my lips as he licked a long strip from my hole to my clit. My hands tangle into his hair again, and my mouth falls open with pleasure. “Fuck, Matty–” the nickname fell from my lips without a second thought, and he practically purrs against me. His hands grip my thighs, pulling them over his shoulders as he dives nose deep into my pussy. My back arches off the floor as a string of curses flies from my lips. I feel his wet appendage push against my hole, and I clench at the feeling as his nose brushes against my sensitive bud. I tug on his hair again, “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!” I mewl, my edge fast approaching as Mattheo swirls his tongue over my clit. He sloppily makes out with my lower lips, pulling me closer to the edge with each passing second, and I’m in near tears when there's a loud crash up above us. 

Mattheo practically roars in anger, pulling his soaked face away from my aching cunt, the knot in my stomach loosening at the sudden separation. I whine and sit up, trying to pull him back down, but he stops me with a firm hold on my wrist. “Stay here and don’t make a sound.” he ordered, “I need to take care of this, and I promise as soon as I’m done, I’ll come right back.”

Anger flashes through me, and I bite back my cries. “Don’t you dare leave me like this, Riddle.” I snap, and he gives me a warning look that makes goosebumps prick at my skin. He leans in, pressing a wet kiss to my lips, and I can feel him shiver as I lick my own arousal from his lips. “I’ll be right back, princess. Be good for me, and we can talk about a reward.”

And with that, he left yet again.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I was starting to get sick of his mind games, switching up his attitude, finally giving me relief before ripping it away from me. Fuck. What am I saying? I watched him murder dozens of people; I watched lives being taken right in front of me. I shiver at the memory and try to focus on anything else before it becomes too much to bear. 

I hate how he makes me feel. Sometimes he’s my Mattheo, and sometimes he’s nothing but a parasite attached to a face I can’t help but love. My back hits a wall, and I can’t count how long he’s been gone. I miss his warm, familiar touch, but anything was better than the cold, dark basement. I close my eyes, my lip trembling as I reach my hand down, fingers hesitantly spreading my folds. Cold air hit my wet lips, and I gasp at the feeling. I brush my fingertips against my hole, whining softly at the pleasure that coursed through my body. Maybe I'm sick in the head, maybe I hit my head too hard one day on the run and never recovered. Maybe I never really hated Mattheo. 

What is wrong with me?

I don’t move when the door opens again. I glare at him, anger coursing through my veins. This was not ‘right back’. As Mattheo’s black boot lands on the stone floor, my mouth goes dry. He’s weaning that stupid mask again, and that stupid costume, tilting his head stupidly at me. He approaches me in a way that makes my heart race in fear, like I'm nothing but cowardly prey between the jaws of a large wolf. 

He knees down, retrieving his hand from his pocket. Wordlessly, he unlocks the chain around my ankle, and he looks up at me. With another wave of his wand, I’m dressed in a loose tank top and shorts. It’s not much at all, but it’s better than naked. A rush of emotions rushes through my chest, and I almost gratefully throw my arms around Mattheo, but he stops me. 

“Go. Run,” He orders, stepping aside. I stare up at him in confusion, mounted to my spot on the ground. “I said run, little pet, like you want to.” He pulls me from the ground, pressing my cold body up against his comforting warmth. “Run, and if I catch you,” he leaned down into my ear, and through the skull mouth of his mask I could feel his breath fanning across my ear. “Well, I think you know what’s going to happen.”

I still don’t move, wondering if he would be less harsh if I stayed with him, but he only laughed. “Such a good girl, don’t worry,” he pulled his mask up just enough to expose his pearly white teeth. They sunk into the soft flesh just beneath my ear, “I’ll always find you. Go, now.”

I don’t know what possessed me, but my feet started moving on their own. I raced up the stairs of the basement and pushed past the door. The house was just as I remembered, dark with walls that were too tall, black cloths hung over the complaining portraits. I was disoriented in the dark, but my feet carried me through the house until I found the overtly large entrance. I pushed open the doors and ran out into the cold, snowy night. 

Frost nipped at each of my limps, and my lungs found it harder to breathe the frigid air. I ran anyway, out towards the woods surrounding the manor. I cast a glance over my shoulder, finding Mattheo staring back at me through the blacked-out eyes of his mask. I ducked into the tree line, just as he started his casual stroll towards me. Cocky bastard. 

I run for as long as I can before my lungs give out. I leaned against a tree, walking slowly into a clearing. I take a deep breath, pulling my arms behind my head to breathe deeper. Just as I find a moment of peace, a branch snaps behind me. I whip my head around, my heart racing as Mattheo approaches me. He doesn’t run, only walks towards me with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He ditched that awful mask, and I can see the smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. I stumble backwards, falling into the fresh snow. He continues his pace, unbothered by my racing heart as I scramble away from him and finally back to my feet. I don’t get one leg in front of the other before strong arms are wrapped around my waist, slipping under the loose fabric of my shirt.

“I win,” He mumbles in my ear, voice dark and raspy. It sends a chill down my spine that pools in my underwear. 

Mattheo throws me over his shoulder, ignoring my flailing lips as he walks back to the manor. “Didn’t even get a mile, love. Lost your talent it seems, or maybe you knew you’d miss me too much.” he teased, running his warm hands up my thigh, pressing a kiss to my exposed skin. 

It isn’t long before we’re back at the manor, and I thank every god I'm in good ties with when he walks past the basement. He takes me to his room instead, our room, the room where I've fallen apart under his touch more times than I can count. 

I breathe in his familiar scent as he deposits me on the bed, and I roll over to bury my burning face in the pillows. Mattheo chuckles at me and grabs my hips, pulling me back against him as he grinds his hardening bulge against the plushness of my ass. 

“You’ve been extra obedient, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice dripping with a tone I could quite place. Lust? Possession? Love? It all blurred together as he rutted his hips against me. “Good girls deserve a reward, don’t they?” he asked, before hooking his fingers at the hem of my shorts. He pulled them down to expose my glistening cunt. He spread me out along his fingers, admiring the way my pussy pulsed around nothing. He leaned in, pressing a possessive kiss to my clit, holding my hips as I try to buck away from him. 

His warm fingers trace along my thighs, sleeping between my legs and collecting the arousal that pooled there. I release a shaky breath into the pillow as his finger circles my clit, and I arch my back to present myself further. He hums in appreciation, trailing his finger further up to my dripping hole, slowly pushing his middle finger inside of me. I gasp at the intrusion, not being able to remember the last time something so long had been inside of me. I keen under his touch, gripping the sheets for stability as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of me. A moan escapes me as he curls his finger, and his thumb brushes against my needy pearl again. Mattheo adds a second finger, spreading out my tight, gummy walls. I crumble under his touch, mouth falling open and eyes going half lidded as he pulls his fingers from me. 

I hear him dropping his pants, and the bed dips behind me yet again as he leans his body completely over mine. His arm wraps around my neck, pressing me close to his chest while his breath fans across my face. The tip of his cock presses against me, and I whine at the sensation, pushing my hips back against him.

“Needy girl, thought you didn’t need me anymore.” He teased, pushing just the bulbous tip into my hole. It’s enough to make the knot in my stomach tighten, and I shake my head. “Need you, Matty, Need you so bad.” I admit, face flushed with embarrassment as he smirks. “Gonna run away again?”

He doesn’t let me get an answer out before he’s pressing further inside of me, the stretch burning pleasantly while my eyes roll back. His arm around my throat tightens, “I asked you a question, darling.” He teased, licking away the stray tear that fell from my eyes. I gasp as his cock brushes against a gummy bundle of nerves, and my head drops to the pillows. He tugs me back against him, pushing even further until he balls slapped against me. “No! No, never gonna leave again,” I promised, involuntary whines spilling from my throat. 

Mattheo pulls his hips back before drilling them back into me, “Good girl,” He grins as he sets a punishing pace, watching my face contort into pleasure underneath him. “Who owns you?” he asks, and I push back against his hips desperately. “You! You do, God, you do!” I moan, feeling my head go light from the lack of airflow. 

“God isn’t here, Love, It’s just me now.”

He drills into my pulsating hole, my back arching at his every thrust as my brain goes mushy from the pleasure. The arm around my throat pulls away, slipping down my stomach to find my pearl. His fingers are just as fast as his pace, and I can’t fight back the whorish moans in my throat. His lips attach to my shoulder, biting a possessive mark into my skin as he fucks me good, better than he ever had before. 

Tears fall from my eyes, and my hand grips his desperately as I’m worked to my edge. “Matty, Matty please…” I trail off into a string of moans, and Mattheo adjusts himself behind me. He bucks his hips into me once more, and I fall apart all over him. My pussy flutters around his cock, and he rides out my orgasm with a few last thrusts of his hips, before he spills his hot seed deep into my womb. Mattheo collapses on top of me, still deep inside as he pins my body to the bed. He hums into my neck, burying himself in my skin. 

“That’s my good girl. Let’s go take a shower.”

[recluselecter]

Card Spring

gambit x nonverbal! reader

WARNINGS: gender neutral reader, extreme spoilers for episode 2, badly written dialogue for Remy, grief, the reader goes nonverbal, not proofread, complete fluff, self indulgent, I needed comfort.

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!!!!

After Storm leaves, a nonverbal reader sticks to their room, playing with old cards she’d given them. Gambit decides to teach them some tricks to try to cheer them up.

My eyes focus solely on the cards in my hands. The red and black letters and numbers flash as I try to spring them from one hand to the other. At least one always finds its way on my blanket. My legs crossed, they fall into the space in my lap, semi-contained until a knock forces me out of my daze. The cards fly from my hands, scattering on the mattress and falling to the floor. I sniffle, climbing down desperately to gather them as quickly as I can. The door opens as I find my favorite card, one that Remy had painted. The Ace of Hearts is painted over, the black paint hiding the original art. A bright red heart is centered, an anarchy symbol in the middle. I tucked it into the deck silently, my chest tightening as I find the Ace of Spades, the one Ororo had painted. The light blue is combined with white lightning that intersects to create an ‘A’. Her line work was made up of words she wanted to convey to me. She spoke of our friendship, our sibling-hood, the reasons why she gave me the deck. Tears fell for the fourth time that day when I saw the card.

The Ace of Clubs and the Ace of Diamonds both lay on the bed, unpainted. Logan and Rogue were supposed to paint theirs, but never got around to it. Logan’s had a thin white base coat, the letters still seen through the first and only coat. He’d gotten bored, and got up and left Remy, Ororo, and I at the table where we were painting. 

“Cher?” Remy’s voice shocked me out of my thoughts. I looked up, finding him in my doorway, a concerned look on his face. He must’ve saw my red and puffy eyes, and decided to enter. I finished gathering my cards, and nestled myself back into the nest of blankets I’d made. He sat down on the edge of my bed tenderly, his usual joking demeanor gone. “Jean says you’re not talkin’?” I didn’t look at him, instead opting to try to spring the cards again. I tried with my hands closer than before, being more careful to not let them fall. I still failed.

“Like that nonverbal thing you was talkin’ about?” He tilted his head, trying to see my reaction. I nodded, semi-successfully springing in the meantime. I lost a few cards, but not nearly as many as the previous attempts. Remy’s eyes fell to my hands, recognizing the deck immediately. He watched me struggle for a minute before scooting closer to me. He used some spare blankets to make himself a nest, and leaned in to watch my “technique.”

“Mon ami, what is this hand doing?” He sighed, pointing at my left hand. I demonstrated how I was catching the cards with the hand, and he shook his head. “You want your pinky out like this,” he stuck out his own hand, showing how he would hold the deck himself. “That way, the cards can’t fall out your hand.”

When I tried the way he showed me, I lost less cards. I smiled a little, testing the new hold. After a minute, he nodded. “Good! Now, that other hand? Needs work.” He pulled his own deck from his pocket, explaining how to hold the cards so that there was air between each card, making it easier to make each individual card spring on it’s own. “This makes the cards not go all choppy. Makes it smooth!” I nodded, observing his hands closely. 

Half an hour passed, and my tears were dry, and I had a decent deck spring under my belt. I smiled at Remy, and he grinned back. “On the road to becomin’ me!” He went quiet for a minute, watching me practice before he spoke up.

"It's gonna be okay." He said quietly. "We're gonna get 'er back." I looked down at my cards, nodding sullenly. "She's gonna be okay." I wiped my tears away and sniffed. She would want me to be strong about this. Remy smiled when I tucked my cards into their box and removed myself from my nest.

"You want some beignets?" He grinned when I nodded, and threw his arm around my shoulder. As he led me out of my room, I tucked my deck into my pocket, deciding to use it as a reminder of who I was fighting for in the battles to come.

[astonmartinii]

daniel x gradschool reader?? maybe they’re not officially dating but he meets her when he’s in new york and they spend the summer together??

big apple lovin' | daniel ricciardo social media au

pairing: daniel ricciardo x gradschool!reader

sparks fly when daniel visits new york on his winter break

yourusername

liked by yourbff1, yourbff2 and 203 others

yourusername: studying up a storm in the city of my dreams

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yourusername omg stopppppp i'm blushing

yourclassmate now zoom in so i can steal some notes

yourusername at least do the stealing urself

danielricciardo

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danielricciardo: big city exploring

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username he's looking so fucking good DAMN

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danielricciardo i tend to have that effect

username i'm sad he doesn't have a seat but he seems so much better right now

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danielricciardo didn't want to hurt your feelings when everyone ignores you for my sexy ass

newyorkstreetstyle

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newyorkstreetstyle: our usual warren street fashion icon has been double trouble recently, obsessed with both.

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username warren street girl having the best taste in men as well ... mother

username not daniel ricciardo on new york street style do they not know who he is?

username DANIEL CONTENT

username people in the comment section freaking out over the man but warren street girl is the real nyc celebrity here

username warren street girl i do not know you but on behalf of the f1 community thank you for taking away danny's skinny jeans !

yourusername

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yourusername: found this stray cat in central park, anyone recognise them?

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yourbff1 idk who he is but he looks freakishly similar to the guy who hasn't left our apartment in a week

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yourclassmate1 if he gets us all coffee again he can stay for as long as he wants

danielricciardo finally someone on my side

danielricciardo

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danielricciardo: wet dream concrete tomato or something like that

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username i am not okay

landonorris you got a gf WE GET IT

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carlossainz55 low blow ricciardo

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yourusername

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tagged: danielricciardo

yourusername: final stretch of grad school with some extra motivation

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yourbff1 believe me everyone in the apartment can hear the motivation

yourusername THERE ARE KIDS ON THIS APP ACT APPROPRIATELY

danielricciardo sorry not sorry

landonorris so this is who the honey badger is obsessed with

yourusername as he should be

username GRAD SCHOOL? educated wag incoming let's go

nyu

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nyu: nyu graduate y/n y/ln has had her graduate study published in the journal of english literature and cultural studies!

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username so how did danny's dumbass pull a published researcher?

yourbff1 ENGLISH LIT SLAY

yourusername thank you nyu will miss you guys :(

nyu come visit soon!

danielricciardo congratulations smarty pants xx

yourusername love you honey

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yourusername

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yourusername: grad school ... completed it mate ;)

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maxverstappen1 congrats y/n !!

danielricciardo love you so much, so glad i met you xx

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yourclassmate1 but now we need jobs

danielricciardo

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tagged: yourusername

danielricciardo: finally showed the mrs my day job

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username FULL LAUNCH AT A RACE OH LORD

yourusername so you really are that famous?

danielricciardo who wouldn't be a fan of my face?

yourbff1 so where's our tickets we had to deal with you all spring term?

username she's so fucking pretty STEP ON ME

note: pls enjoyyyyyyy (p.s. there's a lando request i finished but tumblr deleted it from my drafts so i'll get that up asap) xx

[permanentmess]

Can we pls get a Peter maximoff x reader fic where Peter is annoying the reader and ofc the reader is getting annoyed by him and then he explains how he only does it cuz he likes her attention? Pls and thank you :]

attention (peter maximoff x reader)

a/n: thank you so much for the request! you’re actually my first request ever!!! i thought this idea was so cute. fem!reader in mind but could be read as any gender easily. reader also has powers but it’s unspecified and unimportant to the plot.

word count: 754 (just a short and sweet thing. i can make a part two if you want more!)

warnings: none! just fluff, mentions of being tired (aren't we all), unestablished relationship but not entirely platonic

pt. 2!

GIF NOT MINE

~~~

You were dead exhausted. Like eyes blurry, body aching, could fall asleep standing up tired. 

You loved being a teacher at Xavier’s school, you really did. But between trying to grade exams and homework, training after classes with the other X-Men, and then lesson planning, it made it hard to not be exhausted. And on top of all of this, you still wanted to hang out with your friends. Storm often invited you out of the mansion, Logan offered for you to share some drinks and watch movies, and Peter, well, you didn’t care what you two did, you just wanted to spend time with him. 

But you needed a break from life. That is, of course, right after you finish grading the exams you’d been putting off all week. 

You’re rubbing your eyes with your hands, taking a quick break in between two exams when there’s an incessant knocking on your door. You have a suspicion on who it is, but regardless, you open the door with a scowl. 

“Hi,” Peter greets you with a grin. You can’t help but smile back a little bit. He’s infectious with his happiness. He looks insanely cozy in his sweatpants and plain white t-shirt, slippers hiding his feet. If he was officially yours, you’d hug him in an instant and fall asleep standing up.  

“Hey,” you reply, leaning against your door frame. 

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Can I come in or are you just going to leave me standing in the hall?” You give a short laugh and nod your head towards your bed for him to sit. 

“I’m warning you now, I have to finish grading these exams before I can hang out,” you tell him as you shut the door and go sit at your desk again. 

“That’s alright, I can wait” he says, swinging his feet back and forth off the side of your bed. “What’d you do today? What’s the exam on?” 

You take a moment to respond, but it’s not quick enough for Peter. In an instant, he has moved to your desk, making some papers fly away from the force of using his powers. You close your eyes, trying not to get annoyed. You know he’s just fast by nature, even in his mind, and you know you’re just exhausted. 

“Oh shit, sorry,” he quickly rounds up the papers and puts them back on your desk neatly.

“‘S alright. This one is for the life and health management class I teach,” you tell him, continuing to grade. 

“Oh nice,” he says, staring down at your papers, before moving to go look at the things on your shelf. He did this often when he came to your room, but you’re not sure why. “Where’d you get this from?”

You turn around after marking a question wrong, looking at the picture frame in his hand that held a picture of everyone in their suits. “Uhh, Jean gave that to me, for my birthday.” You turn back around, going back to mark the last question on the exam, writing the grade at the front and moving it off to the side. 

“It’s really pretty. What about this?” You sigh and turn around again. 

“Peterrrrr,” you whine. “I really gotta finish these exams, I told the kids I’d get them back by tomorrow.” 

He puts the object down. “Sorry, I know.” He walks over and puts a hand on your upper back, running over it softly. You relax a little at his touch. “How many more do you have left?” 

“Five.” 

“Okay so how about this: you hang out with me tonight and I can finish them tomorrow morning for you, before your class?” You look up at him, contemplating his offer. “I feel bad for annoying you, I just like having your attention. I thought that was obvious.” 

You grin. “Well, I mean, yeah.” You look back down at the papers. “Sorry for getting annoyed, I’m just exhausted lately.” 

“Then cmon, let’s watch a movie.” He moves to your bed and pats a spot next to him, grabbing your remote to turn on your TV. 

You’re hesitant, but oblige. There’s not much space on your bed, so you’re pressed up against his side. He’s put on a movie you two have seen a thousand times, so you decide to relax into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“You know, I like having your attention too.” You tell him quietly. He rests his head on top of yours. 

“I know.” 

[markrosewater]

Do marvel characters that can fly but not naturally have flying? For example, storm doesn't fly, she rides air currents. Magneto doesn't fly, he is manipulating metal in the ground to simulate flight. Jean grey doesn't fly, she uses telekinesis. Do these characters have flying or do they have activated flying or something to else to represent this is not true flight

If you can propel yourself through the air through whatever means, you can have flying.

[writeforfandoms]

Let the Sparks Fly

Find my Ghost masterlist

For @glitterypirateduck 1-4-1 challenge! I used thunderstorm/rain, power outage, neighbors, and forced proximity!

You meet one of your neighbors in the elevator, and a storm knocks out the power at the worst possible time. At least your neighbor is nice.

Warnings: Power outage, total darkness, brief moment of panic, swearing, soft Simon, brief jumpscare.

Simon Riley x f!reader

Word count: 2k

The rain had chosen the worst possible moment to come, getting you before you could get inside. Your groceries were undoubtedly wet as well now. But you were almost to your building, walking as close to buildings as possible in hopes that they’d help block some of the rain. 

Someone ahead of you turned and opened the door to your building, and your foot caught the door before it could close. He paused, glancing back at you over one massive shoulder. You didn’t recognize him, but that wasn’t exactly unusual. 

You’d only moved in a couple months ago, you hardly knew all your neighbors. 

Offering him a shy smile, you shuffled inside with your groceries, shoes squeaking slightly against the floor. You eyed the stairs for a moment and then shook your head. Nope. No way. You were taking the lift. 

The man got to the lift before you, stepping in and moving aside. He was big, taking up a good portion of the space, but you still stepped in next to him. 

The button for your floor was already pushed.

Your heart clenched. Okay. No big deal. He just lived on the same floor. That was perfectly reasonable, really. Trying to be sneaky, you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

Tall, broad. Black face mask, black beanie. Plain gray shirt and jeans. Seemingly paying you no attention at all, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

The lift shuddered to a stop, and you tensed, hands gripping your bags tightly. You had just enough time to wonder if the lift had died (again).

The lights went out.

You froze. You’d never been overly scared of the dark. Cautious, yes. You’d suffered enough stubbed toes and barked shins to be aware of where you put your feet. But not usually scared.

This, though. This made you scared. Between the small space, the sudden darkness, and the stranger, you were scared.

Sudden light made you flinch, nails digging into your skin. But it was just the man’s phone, flashlight function on and pointed consciously down at the floor. 

Oh. Of course. You didn’t have to stand here in the dark. Well, now you just felt foolish.

“You alright?” Dark eyes focused on you over the mask, though he kept his body half angled away from you, keeping the light from pointing directly at you.

“Yeah,” you agreed quickly, shifting your weight and rolling your shoulders. “Think the lift died?” 

He grunted softly, looking back down at his phone. A few moments of silence, then he shook his head. “Power’s down,” he murmured. 

“Great,” you muttered with as much sarcasm as you could muster. Well. Might as well put your groceries down. No telling how long this would take. You set the bags against one wall, stretching out your fingers. “Suppose if worse comes to worst, I can always eat the ice cream.”

A soft huff of amusement caught your attention, and you looked at your quiet companion. He glanced at you before looking back down at his phone, big fingers nimble as he typed something. Even in the relatively tight confines of the lift, he kept to his own space, conscious in a way so few men were. 

“How long do you think this will take?” You couldn’t help asking. You knew he had no idea, same as you. You just… had to ask. Had to do something with the almost-jittery feeling. You weren’t claustrophobic, never had been, but this situation still grated at your nerves. 

His gaze lifted to you again, dark eyes assessing, before he shrugged one shoulder. (One rather giant shoulder, you realized. He truly was massive, which made his self-containment all the more impressive.) “Got somewhere you need to be?” His voice was low, a little rough. Pleasant. 

You blew out a breath, letting it puff out your cheeks along the way. “Just laundry,” you admitted dryly. “Very exciting, you know.” 

He chuffed, not quite laughter but something close to it. “Only if you spot rats.”

“In this basement? There’s more than one kind of rodent down there.” You made a face. 

He raised one eyebrow at you, wordlessly inviting you to go on. 

“There’s this guy that lives on the third floor,” you started, leaning back against the nearest wall. “He’s kind of a rat. Fortunately I don’t see him often.” 

He nodded once, seemingly amused. “I’ll keep an eye out for him,” he agreed, glancing back down at his phone. “Battery’s getting low.” The way his gaze flicked to you made you blink.

He was telling you specifically. So you had warning.

“Let me turn mine on.” You scrambled for a moment, fishing your phone out and flipping the flashlight on. His turned off a moment later. With a soft sigh, you gave up and sat on the floor. “Somehow all the stories about getting stuck places forget the sheer boredom aspect.”

He puffed out another not-quite laugh, crouching slowly across from you. Still careful to give you your space. “Lotta hurry up and wait,” he agreed blandly. 

With a sigh, you gave up and started playing on your phone. There was nothing else to do, after all. The two of you were trapped until the power came back. 

“How long have you lived here?” You chanced a glance up at him to find he’d sat down properly, back against the wall. 

He shrugged, dark eyes once again focused on you, surgical mask obscuring most of his expression. “Why?”

“Haven’t seen you around before. Not that I know all the neighbors, or even everyone on our floor, I’m just curious.” You wrinkled your nose at yourself. Great conversational skills, there. 

But he surprised you. “Not around often,” he offered, in lieu of an answer, apparently. 

“Got it.” You forced yourself to straighten your back and shoulders, knowing from experience that you’d be sore later if you stayed slumped over. It had been nearly half an hour already, so you twisted a little to grab your groceries and check them.

The ice cream was definitely melting, but there wasn’t much to be done about that. Actually, now that you thought about it, you were cold too. Still damp from the rain, stuck holding still in this enclosed space… Damn. You were gonna catch a cold from this. 

“Melting?” 

You blinked, jolting back to yourself at the question, and nodded with a wry smile. “Seems that way,” you agreed, looking at the carton regretfully. “You want some?”

He shook his head. “Keep it,” he urged you softly. 

You poked the carton once more and huffed, giving up on it. You’d have to get more ice cream later. The shiver caught you by surprise, making you huff again. 

“Alright?” The question was careful.

“Just cold,” you admitted wryly. “I’m fine. Not dying of boredom yet.”

He snorted softly, head tipping away from you again. 

Time passed slowly, dripping by, interspersed with your shivering and very quiet swearing as you distracted yourself. Your ice cream was definitely never going to be the same after this. Fortunately everything else should be fine. 

Unless you died of boredom first. 

Your head jerked up suddenly, eyes wide as you fixed your gaze on your neighbor. He looked back at you, alert, almost wary. 

“So I just realized how rude I’ve been,” you said, embarrassment creeping through your chest and up your neck. “Haven’t even introduced myself yet.” You gave him your name, fingers tapping anxiously against your phone. 

He was silent for a long moment, still looking at you. Then he nodded, just once. “Simon.” 

You nodded to him and looked back at your phone. The battery was getting low, and you didn’t want to run it down entirely, just in case. So you sighed softly, resigning yourself to suffering in the dark for a while. 

“Have to turn off my light,” you warned him, waiting for the nod of acknowledgement to actually do it. 

The darkness was total, almost heavy with how instant it was. You couldn’t see a single thing. You blinked rapidly, knowing it wouldn’t help, but still needing to anyway. Right. This was fine. No problem. No big deal. You closed your eyes, since you couldn’t see anyway, and focused on breathing. Though muffled, you could still hear the rain very faintly, the constant patter soothing. 

Now if only you weren’t so damn cold. 

Time was weird and slippery as you sat there in the dark, huddled into yourself. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed without checking your phone, which you tried not to do. It wouldn’t help or change anything. 

“Doin’ alright?”

The soft question nearly made you jump. Your head turned a little towards him, though you couldn’t see him. “Yeah.”

He paused, and something made you think he was weighing his words, rather than simply going silent. “Can practically hear you shivering, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, well.” You clenched your jaw against another shiver, harder than before. “Not exactly warm in here.” 

He huffed softly. Sudden light from him checking his phone made you blink, the light extra bright now. “Still working on getting power back,” he reported. “Going back up around the city, so it’s only a matter of time.” 

You blew out a slow breath, oddly touched. Had he checked that just for you? “Right. Thanks.” 

Silence and darkness fell between the two of you again, and you curled tighter in on yourself. You were tired and cold and you really just wanted to be in your flat by now. Even if the power was still off, at least you could change into dry clothes and wrap yourself in blankets. 

The lights in the elevator flickered a few times before turning on properly. “Finally,” you muttered, pushing quickly up to your feet, leaving your groceries on the floor for the moment. You’d grab them when the elevator started moving again. You noticed Simon getting to his feet as well, a little more slowly. 

The elevator groaned, an odd noise you’d never heard it make before. You tensed, eyes going wide, darting to Simon for some reason. He was just as still as you.

The elevator dropped. Just a few inches. 

But it was enough to make you shriek, curling in on yourself. A moment later arms curled around you, helping steady you even as the elevator car jolted, and then stilled. 

“‘S alright,” Simon murmured, quiet and soothing, though he didn’t let go of you. Your shaking wasn’t entirely from cold. 

You breathed in raggedly, fingers curling into his shirt, still shaking. “What…?” You couldn’t even finish your question. 

“You’re okay,” he repeated, still soft, still gentle. He didn’t release you, his body heat bleeding into you, the security of his arms lending you courage. The elevator had stopped again, the lights weak but on. You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing. 

The elevator started again, moving up, and you jumped. Simon didn’t say a word, just held you a little tighter. Normally, someone getting this close that you didn’t know would be alarming. 

But it wasn’t. He wasn’t. You just felt… safe. And finally less cold. 

“D’you want a cuppa tea?” you offered. Well. Blurted, more like. When he looked down at you, one eyebrow raised, embarrassment flushed hot up your chest and face. “Just tea! Really! I mean, I just got a new box, and you’ve been so nice, and I might still be a little bit freaked out right now and I’m rambling please tell me to stop–” You cut yourself off at his soft huff of laughter. This close, you could see the corners of his eyes crinkling with his smile. 

“You need to warm up first,” he said, only releasing you when the doors opened. He scooped up your bags before you could and stepped out, you trailing in his wake. 

“Right,” you muttered, chagrined. Of course he didn’t want to come hang out in your apartment. He hadn’t known you for long. Wow. Way to go, self. 

“Which one’s yours?” He looked back at you, pausing in the hallway. 

You considered him for a moment before you stepped in front of him, going to your door and unlocking it before you held out a hand for your groceries. “Thanks.” 

He considered you for a long moment, not relinquishing your bags. Then he nodded once. “Give me ten minutes,” was all he said, bags changing hands before he strode down the hall. 

You blinked after him. Ten minutes? Why…? 

Oh. Oh. 

He was saying yes!

…Shit you had to clean. 

[mossgh0st]

As If It’s Heaven’s Gate (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Summary | Levi is caught in a dark place following the battle of heaven and earth. Believing he’s undeserving of life’s sweetness, he deprives himself until you show up on his doorstep. Inspired by and based on Too Sweet by Hozier.

Content | Angst, Fluff. Sort of slow burn? No use of y/n. Levi is a grump, reader is shorter than him. Brief mentions of off-screen sex. Italics are song lyrics that each section is inspired by.

Pairings | Levi/Reader. Mentions of Jean/Pieck.

Notes | As soon as I heard Too Sweet, I knew I needed to write about Levi. Header is from ‘kii on Pinterest. Hope you enjoy!

——————————————————————————

It can’t be said I’m an early bird, it’s 10 o’clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?

After the war, Levi becomes a creature of the night. His meticulous bedtime routine and eves of deep, restful slumber have become wrought with nightmares, teeming with the faces of everyone he’s ever loved having succumbed to their bitter ends. He’s forgone the tea, a relic of a previous era; he now prefers an amber liquid that stings on the way down. A balm that numbs, heavy bottomed glass filled only a quarter of the way. When he ventures beyond the confines of his home, he asks for the tippy top of the top shelf - Levi always takes his whiskey neat.

You know you don’t gotta pretend. Baby, now and then, don’t you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake, smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

Some days, he’s lucky if he retires before the sunrise peeks over the hills and pulls itself up to the high point of the sky. Letters go unanswered, bookshelves less sparse as he fills the majority of his time with thick, leather-bound tomes. The newspaper has becomes the perfect kindling, headlines boasting peace negotiations melt and turn runny with the heat of the blaze. When Levi wakes each hazy afternoon, it’s with the lingering scent of bonfire strung about the atmosphere. His once grey eyes have turned deep, a color so sharpened it resembles the water on a lake just before the claps of thunder rumble and bring down swells of rain.

But while in this world, I think I’ll take my whiskey neat. My coffee black and my bed at three.

He knows he won’t live forever. He’s not at all interested. At this point, he’s pleading for the same sweet release from the world he afforded Erwin. Levi has spent so much time dwelling in the night, the darkness is threatening to become him. Then, you show up, one damp afternoon. Modest sundress, two small bags, a green ribbon tying back your hair. The glow you emanate is too much for him. He wants to be angry, filled with a rage so intense it convinces you to leave running in the midst of the spring storm, ribbon flying behind you. The pit in his stomach solidifies when he can’t bring himself to be irate, softened by the cold flush of your cheeks and the sheepishness of your smile as you stand, delicate in his doorway.

You’re too sweet for me, you’re too sweet for me.

At first, your presence does nothing to alter his routine. You rise with the sun, the first blinks of morning are spent brewing a sweet coffee in his kitchen, silent save the chattering of the birds. The dregs of his previous evening’s fire catching in the wind and mingling with the scent of bitter coffee grounds. Levi rises long after the sun has hit it’s peak, emerging in loose slacks and a half undone shirt, the sleeves rolled. You cross paths only briefly, while he pours his glass of amber whiskey and you prepare your cup of evening tea. A silent understanding has occurred - you can stay, if you don’t intervene. So you read in the overgrown garden, take your coffee with milk and two sugars, visit the bookstore, the seamstress down the block from the town’s main square, and worry about him only when you are tipping over the ledge into sleep.

But who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate.

The first change is subtle: tea leaves are disappearing faster than you’re brewing them; you know he’s dipping into the store after you retire each evening. Then, when the usual night terrors creep up again, plaguing your mind and leaving your lungs in a vice grip, the second change occurs. Levi waking and comforting you after a string of particularly violent dreams, a different sort of understanding passes when he murmurs, “I still see them, too.” You find him in your bed then, most mornings. Your routines still separate, bodies occupying different halves of the day for weeks. Coffee, bookstore, seamstress, reading, garden. It continues on, life in your solitary bubbles, except the brief overlapping in the early morning when your breaths mingle in the same space between your sleeping forms.

I wish that I could go along, babe, don't get me wrong.

The paradigm shifts once more when he begins to rouse the same time as you. A brief wave of shame washes over you as you realize he’s already awake, you cannot observe his closed eyes and smoothed forehead, the lines of his face set in peace, the soft parting of his lips, or the slow rise of his chest beneath the thin blankets. That morning, you show him how to make the coffee, and he grumbles after burning the first pot, squinting in the bright light. He notices you smiling out of the corner of his eye and something rattles around in his chest. You add three sugars to your cup. He accompanies you to both the bookstore and the seamstress, his silent presence a new comfort. Levi wants to ask why you chose him, chose his home, when there are happier and more accommodating friends, current or former members of the 104th. There’s no doubt in his mind that you’d be better off with someone like Mikasa, in her quiet cottage by the sea. Even Jean and Pieck, or hell, Reiner and his family.

You're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain.

Within a few months, Levi’s world has changed. It’s brighter, fuzzy around the edges. There’s a few sundresses in the closet of his room, a growing stack of books on his dresser. A knit shawl is draped over the chair in the living room; and the guest bed hasn’t been used in several weeks. He lets her brew the coffee in the morning, his palate now well suited for the taste, and takes chrysanthemum tea in the evenings. The garden has a bench now, front row to the beds of geranium, lavender, and snapdragon. When you smile at him through the kitchen window, an understanding dawns on him, an awakening blooms inside of him. He’s seen this look before, many times; over a shared water jug during an expedition, sleepy and exhausted over a fire surrounded by their comrades, during meetings with military leadership, after the battle of heaven and earth, and on the day you were assigned to his squad. You would never go to Mikasa’s, or to Jean and Pieck, even Reiner, or anyone else. He would never let you.

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape.

The first touch of morning is chill, a breeze dancing its way through the open window, sheet gathered at his waist as Levi rouses from sleep. He hears your hums from the kitchen and swings his feet over the bed. He’s drawn to you like bees are to flowers, cloying aroma and sunlight and all things good. Forgoing the tie of his robe, he begins purposeful strides down the hall. Then, you’re there, back turned and hair down. The hem of your pale nightgown sways as you wait for the pour of coffee, glowing in the sunrise, hands over your upper arms to stave off the late summer air. You’re lost in a daydream. Levi comes to stand behind you, listening to the melody you hum quietly. The deprecating, nagging voice he contends with daily in his mind is quieted - it’s just you now; always you.

If you could sit in a barrel, maybe I’d wait.

It’s quiet when he slides an arm around your waist, body warm and flushed. It’s quiet when you turn in his hold, meeting his grey gaze with lingering surprise and pink cheeks. It’s quiet as he pulls you in closer still, hands coming up to rest on his chest. Quiet, as Levi brushes his forehead against yours, eyes closed, fingers flexing in their hold of you. Completely silent, as he tilts your chin up, up, up, and brushes his lips with yours. The taste of you nothing like he had ever dreamed, and oh, had he dreamed. When you push up onto your toes to deepen the pressure, sigh into his mouth, his black bitter heart nearly bursts through his chest.

Until that day…

And when he takes you shortly after, coffee long forgotten, limbs so tangled it’s near impossible to discern where you end and Levi begins, lips parted and dewy with sweat and each other; he can only think of the sweetness this life has afforded him in you, how the bitterness of his past has made way for this belonging.. well. There’s truly no such thing as too sweet, is there?

[klausysworld]

Hola. Can we get a shot where Klaus had a terrible day and Reader tries to make up for it by pleasing her man and reminding him of how much he means to her? Oral M receiving and all

Helping

I flinched slightly at the loud bang of the front door slamming and the harsh footsteps approaching the stairs. I was in the upstairs lounge but quickly got up off the couch and made my way to the hallway.

Klaus stormed straight into his art room and the instant sound of a glass smashed echoed through the mansion.

I made my way to the doorway cautiously, he was on his dry-paint covered sofa. Scotch in one hand while he lifted a just light cigar to his lips. Slowly I wondered into the room, watching as he took a much needed drag of the cigar. His eyes closed as he let the smoke rest in his mouth before exhaling with a sigh.

He only ever smoked when he was really stressed, I’d only seen it once before and he had almost screamed at me to leave him alone before getting ridiculously drunk and stumbling into bed where I was then showered in apologies and kisses.

So this time I took a gentle approach and sat beside him on the couch. He knocked his drink back, put the empty glass down and swapped hands with the cigar so it wasn’t in my face. I shuffled closer to his size and leans against his side. His arm lazily draped over me as I nuzzled to his chest. He let out a gravelly hum and rest his chin ontop of mine as he took another breath of tobacco.

I rubbed my palm against his chest gently, surprisingly his clothes weren’t covered in blood which was a little confusing as to why he was so upset but I didn’t think I should ask. So instead I just keeps running my hand up and down his abdomen as he fiddled with the edge of my t-shirt. I was dressed comfortably with no makeup so wasn’t exactly in the right clothes to seduce him into making him feel better.

Nevertheless his body shifted making my hand nudge his thigh, I glanced down to his leg only to find his cock straining against his jeans. I glanced up at him as he dropped the finished cigar to a dish and poured himself another drink. I slipped off the couch and down onto the carpet. His hand weakly tried to keep me up and his eyes followed me as I crawled between his legs. I kneeled in-front of him and brushed my face along his inner thighs.

“What’re you up to my love?” He mumbled as his fingers glided against my hair and his legs opened a little wider.

“Helping…can I help please?” I whispered and he let out a sigh through his nose as his head nodded slowly.

“Alright love” he muttered as he leaned back against the cushions and spread his arms out across the back of the sofa to relax.

I kissed from his knees to his crotch tenderly. My hands glided along the tops of his thighs until they came in contact with his belt. My eyes found his hooded ones as I unbuckled it slowly, leaving it open around his waist. My fingers fiddled with the button on the top of his jeans and then his fly. His hips raised so I could tug the clothes down to his ankles. I didn’t bother leaving teasing him through his boxers and pulled them down too. His cock immediately sprung up and a groan left his throat.

I quickly pulled my hair into a loose ponytail with the band on my wrist before moving closer to face his heavy rounded balls. I leant forward to press my lips to them lightly, acknowledging his appreciative sighs and licking them slowly. I got to his base and wetted my lips before running them along the bottom half of his shaft leisurely. I let my tongue roll against him as my mouth opened to coat him in my saliva.

I took my time as I made my way further up and listened to his breathing increase as I neared his sensitive tip. As soon as my tongue glided over it his had was on the back of my head and he was sucking in a breath.

I swirled my tongue round the head teasingly and felt as his fingers gripped my hair. “Come on love, you don’t need to build me up” he mumbled “I’m already at the edge”.

“But I want to” I whispered, taking my mouth off of him and looking up at him resulting in a groan and his head to pet my head much like an owner would it’s dog.

“I know, love” he murmured, his brows furrowed as he brought his hand to his dick and stroked himself as he put the tip into my mouth. I sucked on it gently making him groan a little louder and pulling my head down onto him making my mouth stretch at the thickness. “Such a good girl” he muttered as I swallowed around him between sucking. “Always making me feel so much better” he added, encouraging me to take him as far as my throat would allow which unfortunately wasn’t all of him but enough that it didn’t matter.

Once my head was bobbing up at down steadily and his hips were bucking to their own accord, he was leaving his precum down my throat while his groans blurred to moans and his eyes barely focused enough to stay open.

I pulled as far back as I could so that I could focus on his tip for a moment, listening to him gasp and his thighs stiffen at the sensations before he was pushing himself up on his feet to thrust himself within my mouth. His hands pushed and pulled my head by my hair tower his movements as he grew more and more sensitive and desperate for his peak.

I couldn’t help the way my throat tried to force him out as he grew more aggressive and fucked my mouth until his firm balls were smacking against my chin and his grip on me was borderline painful and yet somehow pleasant in a way.

He dragged me back to lick and suck as his slit while his own hand quickly jerked his cock and my hands lifted to fondle his balls.

His eyes locked on mine as his legs trembled lightly before he visibly tensed and his balls seemed to tighten in my hold as he released into my mouth. I could feel my expression relax further as I gulped him down slowly, still sucking on him as I pulled every last drop out of him.

Once finished I kept him in my mouth for another minute while he sat back down and sighed. Eventually he pulled my head back off him and his arms moved under mine to drag me up onto the sofa. His lips moulded to mine in an instant and I knew he could taste himself as his tongue licked mine.

The door knocked drawing his attention and causing us to part. I leaned down to pull his pants back up as Elijah began to apologise for whatever had been said and/or done that ruined Klaus’s mood. Thankfully my stress reliever had proven useful and Klaus barely reacted, just waving him off and pressing a hand to my chest to push me onto my back. Elijah left and Klaus was pulling my legs round his midsection to hover over me.

“You’re so gorgeous without your makeup on” he murmured as his lips pressed to mine again. “I love you” he reminded and I hummed with a lazy smile

“You feel better?” I asked quietly and he nodded in confirmation.

“Much” he stated simply.

“I’m glad” I whispered, “I don’t want to see you so upset and angry…not after last time”

“Last time was a mistake, this time was a gift and hopefully every time after this will be just a glorious” he proposed as a grin grew of his face. “Now let me return the favour sweetheart” he offered with a smirk and I hummed

“How could I ever say no to that?”

[rookthorne]

Like sir

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐲

When Bucky came home from a bad day, it was your pleasure to change that, and you took pride in making him shatter to pieces if you reaped the rewards.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ⇥ TFAWS!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ⇥ 1.7k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ⇥ Filth. ჻჻჻ SMUT: Oral (M recieving), facefucking, Dom!Bucky, Sub!Reader ჻჻჻ KINKS: Sir, daddy, praise, degradation, dumbification, objectification

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ⇥ Y'all can thank @playboystark, @navybrat817 & @sgt-seabass for this one — it is not my fault.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 ⇥ @sgt-seabass

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You were fucked. 

Well and truly fucked. 

You knew it the moment that Bucky stepped through the door after his mission with Sam – you knew it the moment he appeared in the entryway, blue Henley tight across his chest, black jeans hugging his thighs, and boots unlaced and haphazardly thrown on. 

The dog tags around his neck clinked against his chest and reflected the dim light of the living room. His arm, black and gold, flexed and whirred with the force of his clenching fist. 

And you knew there was no talking him down. You could only weather the storm, cop the brunt, and by god, that thought alone made your heart thrum and your stomach to flutter. 

“Bucky? Baby, are you alright?” You asked, putting your book down on the coffee table. The thud of his boots as he neared your perch on the couch doubled the staccato beat of your pulse. “What happened?”

The thunderous beat your heart had been tattooing against your ribs stopped once you saw the look on Bucky’s face. It was animalistic in its brutality – a man who needed to feel in control, needed to have something to release the pent-up anger boiling in his blood. 

You convulsively gulped, a desperate pull of air, and Bucky just watched you. The molten heat in his eyes made your skin prickle and it made the hair at the nape of your neck stand on end. 

“Knees.” Bucky said simply. You opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky’s lips twitched in the beginnings of a snarl. “Don’t make me repeat myself, kitten.”

“But-”

“Get on your fucking knees before I put you there,” Bucky snapped. 

So it’s going to be like that, you mused silently as you unfurled from the blankets, slipping off the couch to kneel at his feet. 

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it, baby girl?” The tone – oh, the pure need in it, it made your hands tremble as you reached out for his belt. “Daddy had a bad day, sweetheart,” he continued. The contrast of the soft touch of his right hand as he cupped your jaw compared to the words that fell from his lips sent a thrill up your spine. “He needs you to make it better. You can do that for me, can’t you?” You nodded slowly and worked his fly open, preening under the soft coos Bucky was uttering under his breath. “Good girl, kitten.”

Pride flooded you when Bucky smoothed down your hair, the touch so soft and gentle. “Sir, sit down-”

“What’s that, baby girl?” Bucky asked, brow raised. 

You shivered. “Please, sit down,” you said as you pointed to the couch. “Daddy deserves to be comfortable.”

Bucky hummed and stepped back, the sudden disappearance of his warmth almost made you whine with need. You loved when he was like this – all encompassing and brooding, not taking no for an answer. 

The couch creaked as Bucky sat and you shuffled to sit between his spread thighs. “Good thinking, kitten,” he said softly. You swore you could have started purring. “This is much better, but there’s somethin’ missing, don’t you think?”

Your fingers, now steady and determined, pulled down his jeans and boxers in one smooth motion once Bucky lifted his hips. You began to suckle at the tip of his already hard cock, enjoying the darkness that consumed his cerulean blues. “You can do better than that.”

The comment toyed with your competitive edge – you were determined to make sure Bucky wouldn’t be able to speak when you were done, damn him. 

Slowly, teasingly, you mouthed down his length, stopping only to lave your tongue at his frenulum and force a heavy breath from his lungs. The muscles of your jaw stretched and relaxed as you worked. 

“Hurry the fuck up, sweetheart,” Bucky hissed, his tone dangerous, but you could hear the plead behind the forceful words – you’d humour him, just this once. 

The loud groan that left Bucky’s parted lips as you enveloped the head of his cock with your mouth sung through your every nerve and ignited the heat low in your belly. “Fuck, that’s it,” he gasped and you moaned loudly, determined to make him feel it. “So good, baby girl.”

Forcing your jaw to relax further, slowly taking more of his length while breathing slowly, deeply through your nose. The sounds that escaped his lips made taking him to the hilt worth it. 

“Oh, fuck- Your mouth, kitten, fuckin’ hell,” Bucky moaned and his cock twitched as it touched the back of your throat. “So fuckin’ good for me, baby, s’good.”

Your hands came to rest on his thighs, and you pulled off while hollowing your cheeks, but Bucky’s hand found a tight grip around the back of your neck. “Where do you think you’re goin’? I didn’t say you could stop, sweetheart.” The wicked grin on your lips around his cock gave him pause, and it gave you an opportunity to pull off completely, letting the trail of spittle land on your chin. 

“But, Daddy,” you began, shuffling closer to the couch so your knees touched the bottom of it. “You didn’t say please.”

A concussive silence echoed around your room – interrupted only by your heavy breathing and the roar of blood in your ears. You’d done it, you had said the one phrase that kicked Bucky into overdrive, and the anticipation was killing you. 

“I didn’t say ‘please’, is that it, kitten?” Bucky asked, voice low and rumbling in his chest. Playing into your demise, you looked at him and tilted your head to the side before shaking it, just once. “See, the thing is, sweetheart,” he continued, and he was leaning forward, his face nearing yours. “I don’t need to say please when you’re mine to use–a fuck toy for Daddy to let his frustrations out on, aren’t you?”

Oh, heaven above. Your breath stuttered and you exhaled in a sharp gasp. “Isn’t that right, kitten?” His voice was a lull and your mouth watered, suddenly desperate to feel the heavy weight of his cock on your tongue again. “You can’t be cockdrunk on me yet,” he mused, his hand grabbing your hair at the roots and pulling sharply, forcing a hiss from your lips and your head to tilt back, exposing your throat. “Answer me, you slut.”

“Yes! Yes, I’m Daddy’s fucktoy,” you rushed, whimpering at the end. The pain sent you further into the clouds – a reminder that he was in control. It was intoxicating.

Bucky hummed, mouthing at your throat with a devilish smirk, the pull of his lips brushing your skin. “Then act like it.” The sudden feeling of Bucky releasing your hair made you gasp and rock forward slightly, your lips right above his weeping cockhead. “Go on,” he growled. “Take it.”

You breathed deep – once, twice, and then you leant forward- “Too slow,” Bucky snarled, and his hand forced your head down, his length spearing your face. Tears streamed down your cheeks reflexively and you forced breath through your nose, too tuned into the noises above you as Bucky fucked your throat. 

“Just a willing fuckin’ hole for your Daddy to fuck whenever he wants, aren’t you?” Bucky groaned, not letting up. “Such a good girl for me– Daddy’s slut, huh?”

The whine that escaped from around his cock sounded garbled and strained, but Bucky only chuckled darkly, his breath now coming in harsh pants, already so high strung – you knew it wouldn’t take much longer. A long moan echoed from him when you hollowed your cheeks. An idea struck you, and you gazed up into Bucky’s face through watering eyes as you moved your hands slowly and deliberately. 

“Aw,” Bucky cooed, watching with glassy eyes as your hands moved between his thighs to tug gently on his balls. The sudden stimulation made his breath hitch. “Is my slut gettin’ desperate to make her Daddy come?”

A salty taste coated your tongue at his words, and you nodded as best you could. Bucky moaned loudly as precome beaded on his tip. “Make me come then, kitten, c’mon.”

With renewed vigour, you bobbed your head so fast it made your head spin but you ignored it, the pitch of Bucky’s moans increased the faster you worked and you needed him to come almost as much as you needed air. “Fuck, sweetheart- Ah! Jus’ like that, good girl,” Bucky breathed. “Keep going, baby, don’t you dare fuckin’ stop.”

Like hell you would. 

“Oh- God, fuck, baby,” Bucky grunted, his hips lifting to meet your movements and the bitter taste of precome trickled over your tongue and down your throat – what you couldn’t swallow dribbled from your lips and acted as a slick. “‘M gonna come, don’t-” His hips stuttered but you didn’t slow, opting to work even faster to hear the broken pants and moans fall from his lips. “Oh, fuck!”

The heat of his release coated the back of your throat, and you pulled back so only the tip was on your tongue; content to watch his face contort with pleasure and hear the moans turning to whimpers as you continued to alternate laving at the tip and sucking through his twitching. 

“Oh, fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Bucky gasped, his chest heaving for breath. You let the head of his cock fall from your lips and you weren’t surprised in the least to see him still hard – bless the serum. You watched through hooded eyes as Bucky leant forward, his left hand cupping the side of your neck and his right cradled your jaw. He was watching your mouth with a reverence that set your nerves ablaze all over again. “Swallow.” 

Smiling softly, you did so. “Say ‘ahh’ for Daddy, kitten,” Bucky ordered, and your mouth opened on instinct. A heavy breath left his lips to see your mouth empty and he closed your jaw with his thumb. “Such a good girl for me–Daddy’s proud of you,” he whispered. “How’s my girl? You okay?” 

“‘M okay, Daddy,” you rasped. He nodded once and pulled you into a heated kiss, forcing his tongue past your lips and groaning weakly at the taste of himself. 

“Now it’s time to reward my good girl, huh?” Bucky murmured against your lips, his breath fanning over your chin. “Would you like that, baby girl?” You nodded feverishly, threading your hands into his hair and tugging, only slightly. “Alright then,” he chuckled. “You better run, kitten.”

And run, you did.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Slow Dancing and Slow Mornings

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Logan and you have been kidnapped and you come to find out Logan has been in love with you for twelve years.

Disclaimer: Mentions of kidnapping, explosions, hints of torture, love confessions, Logan gives you a massage. Mostly fluff, little bit of angst, and slow dancing to familiar records. Not proof read.

“What?” 

You turned in your chair to try and look at Logan, who wasn’t looking in your direction at all. 

The prick stood opposite both of you and just smiled. “What? He didn’t tell you?”

“You…you love me?”

The prick nodded as he placed his hands behind his back. “Has done. For Twelve years.”

“Shut up.” Logan said to him. 

“Logan?”

Finally, he looked at you. His expression was twisted with pain. 

“You love me?”

Logan nodded. “Have done for twelve years. Thanks for noticing.”

There was no point trying to deny it now. He had loved you for twelve years, and now you were both about to die. 

“What didn’t you tell me?”

Logan shrugged. “There was never a good time.”

“A good time?”

“Seems our courageous hero-”

Despite your hands being tied behind your back, you waved the yapper off. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll get back to you. “You never told me because there was never a good time?!”

Logan was a little shocked. “We’re five minutes from dying and you’re mad at me right now?”

“Yeah, sorta! You’ve been in love with me for twelve years and you never told me!”

“It’s not like we had years of spare-”

You shook your head. “Don’t bullshit me, Logan. You had plenty of time to tell me.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Hell, you had twelve damn years.”

Your captor sighed as he crossed his arms. “Perhaps you two can argue-”

“It’s not like I can do anything about it now!”

You looked at Logan, unsure of what to say. Fuck you? You could have done something twelve years ago? Hell, you could have done something last week? Go fuck yourself?

Logan watched as you decided what you were going to say to him. And then the cogs stopped turning in your head and your gaze focused on his soul for a moment, before it became lighter. 

“Yeah there is.”

Logan was confused, but just as he was about to ask what, you continued. 

“You can tell me if we survive this.”

“Sur-survive what?”

Then a loud crash came and everything turned white. 

Slowly, you came to. 

The blinding flash and loud crash had sent a shock wave throughout the entire room and somewhere in the rubble, you were lying down, your ears ringing and your head feeling heavier than ever. 

You tried your best to make out what everything was. The stone bricks beside you, the dirt beneath your body, the rebar poles sticking out here and there in front of you. 

Groaning, you stood before pressing a hand to your head. Bringing it back down, you found an imprint of blood in the centre of your palm. 

In the distance, you could see Storm and the others making their way over to Logan. You could have run to him. You were about to. 

Then the rubble moved. 

Your kidnapper flew through the air and towards the woods. 

So you followed. 

Logan groaned as he got up, Storm’s hand on his back. Immediately, he started looking for you. And he found you. Flying towards the forest. 

He called out your name but you were too far away to hear him. 

“Logan-Logan, we’ll go. You need medical attention.” Jean told him. But he shrugged her off. 

“I don’t need medical attention.”

With your head pounding, you landed in the general area you’d seen him land. It was a lot quieter now. The lights from the jet were barely visible through the thickness of the shade. 

And just as you turned your back, you were sent flying to the ground. 

“You still think you can beat me?!”

You groaned as you found the power to stand. “I’m still trying, aren’t I?”

“Just give up. You won’t be able to stop me.”

“Urgh!” You turned around on your heels and looked at him. “Can I at least stop you from talking?”

The prick just laughed. “Let's see if you can try and fight long enough to make this interesting.”

And you tried. You got a few of your own hits in, sending him flying through the branches and down ditches. But with your pounding head and the pain racking through your body with each hit you took, post being buried by rubble. 

Once more, you were thrown against a tree and fell into the dirt beneath it. By the time you opened your eyes again, you were met with his figure walking towards you. 

“It’s a pity really.” The pain you’d suffered from being tied in the chair a mere fifteen minutes ago twisted inside your body again, only getting stronger by the second. “You didn’t get to tell him you feel the same.”

You managed to catch your breath for a moment. “He knows…”

Your body was gasping for another breath, begging to push the pain away. “He knows.”

The man above you gave you a twisted smile before he twisted your inside a little more. “But he’ll never know how much, will he? How long you went, wishing he’d feel the same. Who knows, maybe I’ll do you a favour and tell him for you once I’m finished with you here.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “It’s okay.”

You watched as the man stood above you went from holding all the power, to holding nothing but confusion. 

“I’ll tell him myself.”

As Logan kept running, he was shouting out your name, Storm hot on his tail calling out his. But just as he caught your scent, your colour of power exploded and spread through the whole of the forest. It was strong enough to knock both himself and Storm back. 

And as he stabled Storm, he looked in what he guessed was your direction. 

“Logan, no-”

“Y/N!”

Logan kept running, his breath sharp against his lungs. You had to be okay. You had to be fighting back. You had to have won. 

But as he reached the centre point, he looked around. The smell of dirt and imminent rain clouds messed with his senses as he constantly whipped around in a circle. And then he saw it on the ground. 

The necklace you always wore. A locket lay open on the floor, face down. You never let him know what was on the inside.

Picking it up, he brushed the dirt from it and found what was inside. 

A picture of everyone lay on one side. 

And a picture of him on the other. 

He remembered that picture. He remembered you and him being told to stand together in front of the record player stand. At the time, you’d both shared the same neighbour and attended the same dinner party. And after a few glasses of alcohol and some good food, you’d all been dancing to a couple records. 

He didn’t even know you’d owned a copy of that photo. 

Folding the small picture back, he replaced the photo and snapped it shut. 

“I can’t find her.”

Storm’s expression saddened as she slowly approached him. “She’s gone, Logan.”

He looked around again. 

“Logan. She’s gone.”

Only when he turned back to face Storm did he feel the tears on his cheek. But he couldn’t face her. His eyes kept looking for you. “She’s-”

Logan’s voice broke with pain. “She’s not.”

Storm placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Logan, she’s gone. You and I both felt it-”

Storm watched as Logan’s head snapped in the opposite direction. 

“Logan, she’s gone.”

Then he pulled himself from her and started walking away. 

“Logan, where are you going?”

“I heard something.”

And he did hear something. 

A few moments later, Storm watched from behind Logan as you climbed up a ditch. 

Your face, hair and clothes were stained with blood, ash, dirt and moss. Grasping onto a nearby tree, you took in heavy breaths until you finally looked up.

“Medic!” Storm shouted. 

Logan took off running towards you. 

“Logan,” you breathed. 

“What the hell were you thinking?”

You pushed off from the tree and hobbled towards him. “Just shut up and hug me.”

A few more strides and Logan had you wrapped up in his arms, tightly. All he could do was breath you in, feeling your skin bruise under his fingertips as he clutched onto you like a lifeline. 

“You’re okay? Are you okay?” Pulling back from you, but keeping your body flushed against his as best as he could, Logan looked you over. 

You had a cut on your head and other small scratches. He couldn’t check your body over due to your clothes, but he did try and feel for any more wet patches of blood. 

Then you chuckled. 

“What?”

“Isn’t there something you need to tell me, Soldier?”

Logan’s gaze ran over your face for a second too long as his brain fought against itself, trying to convince him you were okay, real and most importantly, alive. 

Then he remembered. 

“I love you,” he breathed. “I have loved you for twelve years. I love you.”

Taking his face in your hands, you looked him over as you smiled. “I love you, too.”

It took Logan a minute before he finally gathered the courage to kiss you. He didn’t want to hurt you. His kiss peppered away across your cheek, down your neck and onto your shoulder as his arms wrapped around you more, holding you in a hug close to him. 

A medic was closing in and Logan turned around, you still in his arms. “Come on, we need to get you checked. What happened to-”

“He’s taken care of.”

You looked at Storm. “At the bottom of the ditch. I don’t think he’s gonna remember what happened for a while.”

Storm and Cyclops headed off in that direction whilst your own hands brought Logan’s attention back to you. 

“Stay with me?”

“I’m never leaving you again.”

Then he kissed you. 

“Come on.”

Two days later, you were fully showered and practically boiled clean of any evidence from what had happened when you had been kidnapped. Your clothes now consisted of long pyjama bottoms, an old t-shirt and a hoodie that you had stolen from Logan’s closet. 

The amount of energy your, quite literally, explosive fight had taken from you had been a lot. And it was clear the next couple of weeks would be filled with a lot of sleep and a lot of rest. 

Whenever you woke up, it was ninety percent guaranteed Logan would be asleep beside you. And when he wasn’t and you went in search of him, you found him in the kitchen, cooking. 

“Here, eat.”

He’d place a bowl or plate of whatever he had made in front of you at the counter before sitting beside you, pulling your chair until it was practically between his legs as he sat turned to you. 

A week later, you had woken up snuggling into the crook of Logan’s neck and you stayed there for a while. Until you remembered you needed to shower. 

“Do you think you can stand for that long?”

“Probably.”

Logan kissed the top of your cheekbone as he lay beside you. “I’ll draw you a bath.”

And he did. 

And the minute you stepped into it, you relaxed against the hot water. Between your fingertips, you let your power flow around your fingers. But you jumped when you felt a familiar presence sit behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. 

“You need to save your energy.”

“All I’ve done for a week is sleep, Logan.”

“You nearly levelled a forest. It’s going to take a while.”

With his thumbs firm against your shoulders, Logan slowly massaged the tension away. A small moan left your lips as you moved your neck, giving him more access to your muscles. 

Logan chuckled. “Like that?”

“Love it.”

Logan smiled as he leaned down and kissed the top of your shoulder and behind your ear before continuing to massage away the ache.

Finally finishing in the tub, Logan held up a towel and tried his best to look away as you stood up and wrapped yourself in it. 

“You okay?”

“Yep,” Logan strained. “Just…concentrating.”

You laughed a little and blushed. “Thank you for running me a bath.”

Logan looked at you and smiled before you pulled him in and kissed him. “But next time, feel free to join me in it.”

With another quick kiss, you smirked as you walked away leaving Logan both a little in shock and a little embarrassed. He might have loved you for twelve years but sometimes he had to remind himself that you loved him back and you both now had the freedom to…do…that. 

A few hours later, after having dinner together, Logan went in search of you. You weren’t in his room, the library, outside or even the living area. 

But as he walked back past his room, he heard a familiar sound. 

Floating out from your room were the faint sounds of a record playing on the record player. Carefully pushing the door open wider, Logan smiled when he saw you. Fast asleep, curled up on your side, the record had lulled you to sleep. 

With a soft smile, Logan closed the door and reached to turn the volume down a little before approaching you. 

You felt your bed dip for a minute, but you had already recognised his footsteps and scent from the hallway. And you felt yourself smile and reach out for him. He chuckled. 

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was,” you curled into his arms as he lay down with you. “But then I remembered my human heater.”

“Oh, is that my new name?”

“Yep,” you replied, already hearing the smile in his voice and in his heart. 

“At least I come in useful for something.”

You smiled. “I can think of a couple other things, too.”

Logan smiled and pulled you up to him a little more. “I’m sure you can.”

Not long after that, you fell asleep. 

And when you woke up, your back was flushed against Logan’s chest, your legs tangled in his and his arms wrapped safely around you. It was still dark outside, but there was a little winter sun peaking out, way beyond the trees. 

“Where are you going?” Logan’s tired voice asked you as you sat up, his hand by your waist. 

Looking back at his bed head and tired eyes, you smiled. Reaching over to your desk drawer, you pulled out your film camera and snapped a picture. Logan groaned, putting his head between your pillows as you chuckled and stood up, placing your camera on the desk once more. 

As you stood and rounded the bed towards the record player by your door, Logan reached over and picked up your camera taking a couple of candid shots of his own, of you, as you looked for a new record and placed it on. 

“What?” Logan asked with a tired smirk as he lowered the camera. 

You smiled tiredly. “Dance with me.”

Logan smiled and gave a fake groan as he pushed himself up from his back and onto his feet, leaving the camera beside your bed. 

Walking to you, Logan pulled you to him, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck whilst his hand folded around your other and, holding you by your waist, he leaned into you. Swaying with each other, you let the sounds of the record float over you, giving you both a sense of deja vu. 

Twelve years ago you’d made friends with each other and danced at a small dinner party to the very same song. Then you’d been dragged into taking a photo together to have a memory made in time. A few hours later, you had asked for a copy of the photograph of you and Logan. 

You hadn’t really known why. You’d only known Logan a couple of weeks. But something told you, you needed a copy of that photograph. And around two years later, you realised why as you folded it in half and placed it inside your locket. 

One Logan had fixed for you one Christmas when the clasp had broken. 

And, when you had wandered into Logan’s room, in search of his hoodie, you had found a small tin box. A tin box you had opened to find it containing a couple of different sentimental things, including a couple of different photos from over the years. 

But one you knew instantly. 

Because it was the same one you carried with you every single day. 

Looking up at Logan, you found him already looking at you and your heart soared.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Leaning down, Logan pressed a kiss to your lips as his fingertips pressed into your skin through your t-shirt and hoodie. And as he lifted you a little, and spun around, you let out a small giggle. 

“Ready for breakfast?”

You smiled and nodded. “Soon. I just want to stay like this for a while.”

Logan smiled and kissed you once more, continuing to dance with you in your room barefoot, letting the sun peek out from beyond the trees before you both finally made your way downstairs for the day. 

“Okay.”

[plussizeficchick]

Hey guys.. so interesting factoid about me; I like to watch wrestling. I mean, tune in every week, watch the PPV’s, buy the merch type of fan.

Soo, let’s talk about Pro Wrestler!Bakugo

At first, he had no interest in it, he wanted a more rugged sport like football, but after his mother saw one too many players get CTE, she immediately pulled him from the sport.

He was angry at first because dammit, he’s not like those other extras on the field! But alas, to save himself an earful, he quit the sport as a two-time Super Bowl champion.

But he needed something else to let his aggression out. Something heavy-hitting.

That’s when he found pro wrestling.

At first, he was shit, he can admit that. He didn’t know how to run the ropes, he wasn’t with the high-flying shit and making people tap out didn’t satisfy his needs. That’s when he found his real fighting style.

Brawler.

He likes to beat people up. He likes pummeling his opponents into bloody heaps until they’re too far gone to even stand. And he especially likes the shiny belt that gets thrown over his shoulder after every title defense.

But nothing, nothing, compares to the cute, chunky commentator that sits at ringside.

He thinks you’re absolutely adorable, the way you try to shit on his matches and promos, and he knows it’s hard! He’s incredibly charismatic and he has the chops to back it up.

He corners you one day before a show, “Hey, Chubs. You got a problem with me or something?” He presses you. You’re a bit caught off guard and he uses that to back you up against a wall. “Cat got your tongue? Funny how you always seem to have something to say out there but when it’s just us…” You cut him off, pressing a firm, manicured finger into his chest. “Listen, asshole. I actually do have a problem with you. I think you’re full of shit. You walk around like you own the place, when the only reason you got your spot in the company is by kissing the boss’s ass. So yeah, I’ve got a fucking problem with you.” You storm off, muttering incoherently under your breath and fuck, Bakugo doesn’t think he’s ever been harder than he was right then.

The following week you’re the one cornering him in the hallway. “What the fuck is this?” You angrily shove the papers in his face. Bakugo smirks at the papers, “I see you got the news.” “No shit I got the news, what the fuck are you trying to do?” You press. Bakugo stands, towering over you. “Easy, Princess. All I told them was that I’d want to work with you more. I didn’t think they’d put us together. But then again, why wouldn’t they want to keep their top guy happy?” He’s smug, the bastard. And you want more than anything to wipe that smirk off his face.

“Fine then.” You grab his hand and lead him to his personal locker room. “If we’re gonna do this, I want it to look real.” The smirk drops from his face as you toss the door open. He follows behind you and locks the door when you instruct him to. Since when did you start telling him what to do?

By the time he turns back around, you’ve already made yourself comfortable on the large sofa. You removed your jeans and panties, tossing the lacy garment his way. “I want you to eat me out, Champ.” Fuck, you’ve got him hooked already.

He makes his way over to you, getting on his knees to breathe in your delicious scent. His mouth is practically watering as he sucks hickies onto your thighs, eager to finally dig in to what he’s been denied so long. You thread your fingers through his ash blonde hair, slightly tugging. “Hurry, ‘Suki.” You whine. He wants to hear you beg more, but he knows he’ll get the opportunity to later on.

He dives right in, lapping up your juices before sucking your clit into his mouth. You gasp at the feeling, bucking your hips up against his face. He’s messy, he spits on your cunt before lapping it right back up along with your juices. “Fuck, ‘Suki. S’good. Please.” You cry out. “Please what, Princess? Gotta tell me what you want.” He mumbles into your cunt. “Fingers. Please. Want your fingers, baby.” As much as he wants to deny, the pet name does something to him, he can’t help but comply.

He coats two fingers in your essence before slowly pressing the middle one inside, curling the finger in search of that special spot. You whine at the feeling, cunt clenching around him. “Gotta open up, baby. Gotta let me stretch you out for my cock.” He coos at you, his voice a striking contrast to how he sounds when he addresses the masses. It’s then that you come to the revelation that he only addresses you like that. He’s never loud, never aggressive when he’s with you. You don’t know why, but it has your cunt dripping that he’s only like that with you.

He slides in another finger, working you closer to your orgasm, and when he finally puts that heavenly mouth back to work, you feel your cunt spasming, core clenching as your orgasm washes over you. He milks it for all your worth and keeps going, and before long you feel another orgasm rush through you, though this one feels more different than the first.

“‘Suki, wait! I’m gonna-” “Cum, cum for me again, baby. Want you to soak my face.” You cry out as you cum for the second time that night, squirting all over Katsuki’s face. You grind your cunt against him, his nose bumping your sensitive nub. He lets you ride it out, before finally pulling away, your juices dripping from his chin. He licks his lips before pressing a fiery kiss to your lips, allowing you to taste yourself.

You hum at the taste, but you’re eager for the real star of the show. You pull at his belt, signaling that you want his clothes off, and who is he to deny you? He takes off his pants, but unlike you, he keeps his shirt on seeing as the show was going to start soon. His cock bobs up against his abdomen and the tip is a pretty shade of pink, with a few veins along the sides. Of course he has a pretty dick.

He runs his cock along your cunt, bumping the tip against your clit a few times before slowly pressing inside. He sets a steady pace, checking to make sure you're okay before increasing his speed. Before long, the room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping, and fuck, you’re a sight. Your face is flushed, with pretty tears streaming down your face, he can’t help but want a taste, tongue licking your tears before pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips, sucking your tongue into his mouth. He’s close, so fucking close, but he needs you to cum for him again.

“Cum f’me, baby. Cum for your champion.” And you do, your cunt clenched around his cock as you cum for a third time. You’re spent, but you want to feel him cum, want to feel him inside you during the show. You squeeze your cunt around him, eager to coax his orgasm from him. “Cum f’me, ‘Suki. Cum f’me, baby.” You know what the name does to him. Something so simple, yet so domestic just gets him ready to spill inside you. And he does, after a few more thrusts he’s cumming, the feeling of his seed filling you feeling so good, so warm.

You both stay connected for a moment, before you start to giggle. Bakugo’s head perks up at that, before joining you with a slight chuckle. “How long do you think before they realize we’ve been dating?” You ask, a dopey smile on your face. Katsuki kisses your cheek before answering, “I’d say a few weeks. You know I can’t keep my hands off you for too long. And now that I get to love on you in front of everybody, fuck yeah I’m gonna rub their noses in it.” You chuckle before pushing him off of you. “Alright, get me a towel. Show’s about to start.” “Yeah, you’ve got like 10 minutes.” “‘Suki!”

— —

Taglist: @xogabbiexo @kinq-sleazee @dabilovesme @sintiva @blkchxrryblyss @tenyaiidasslut @luna-indigoduh @bookwormsenpai @bl--ankhaeji @thicksimpx @namjoonswifeyy @nasty-quillz @haikyutiehoe @musicisme333 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @celi-xxmoon

[freakshowtwopointoh]

Hi!! Can I request jealous Jordan li where reader is spending a lot of time with someone else, maybe for a school project or something and Jordan notices and is like, nope, not happening, this one's mine bc they're so in love with reader and want all of the attention

Whew, that was a lot, haha,

Thank you!!!!

*not sure if u want established partners or situationship w feelings or something else, but i think imma go with situationship bc thats always the vibe for jordan lol if u want more established relationship lmk*

Debate club was a sensible extracurricular, and you had been doing it since your school stopped having model UN in 9th grade. It wasn't your favorite thing in the world, but you liked to argue, so it worked out. This week, you were arguing the "for" case with your teammate for the semester, Blake Mathers. He's a grating sophomore with floppy hair, and telekinesis powers you've only seen him use to enable his own laziness. The head of the club was nice enough, but he was insistent on "teamwork" when you'd much rather write alone. It was exhausting, trying to filter your thoughts and opinions, and allowing others to shine was not your style.

You try to pay attention to what Blake was saying about the topic, but all you were thinking about was Jordan Li. Ever since you made out at one of Dusty's infamous parties, they had invaded your senses and your thoughts. They'd catch you staring during class, or you'd wear a tiny skirt to a party, and you'd end up in a closet, or a car, or a bedroom, all limbs and heavy breathing.

"Um, hello? Did you hear me?" You shake your head.

"Sorry. Say that again?"

"The argument we wrote yesterday. It's gone - my computer got fucked." Ah, crap. This is the second time Blake's stupidity has made you re-do work. You'd done some research at the start of the week, and he'd forgotten to mention the topic had been changed. You sigh.

"Well, fuck. Alright, let's go back to the library then." You turn around and start walking, trying not to show your disappointment. You'd been hoping to "run into" Jordan at the JitterBean - hence the tight-ass skinny jeans.

Waste of an outfit, you think bitterly, pushing open the glass doors and setting up at the table that you and Blake had been using to do your assignments. Thankfully you'd saved your notes from yesterday, so you began reconstructing your argument while Blake screwed off.

You weren't paying much attention to what he was doing until you saw him fucking with Justine. Now there's some bullying you can get behind. You giggle, and watch as he makes another paper airplane fly around her head. She glares over at him and storms out, which makes you laugh out loud. The librarian glares, and you exchange a guilty look with Blake before getting back into writing.

The afternoon goes by easily after that. You were vaguely aware of other students milling about or studying nearby, but you were in the zone. Finally, at almost 8, the argument was done, and you saved it in multiple places just in case.

You wave goodbye to Blake, happy that the session went reasonably ok and the work was done. Saturday's debate was going to be a blast.

"Have fun on your little date with Mathers?" Jordan was leaning against the outside wall of the library, expression unreadable.

"Is the infamous Jordan Li jealous?" Their eyes harden slightly.

"Not jealous, just lookin out for you. He's a moron." They begin walking beside you, not acknowledging how unhinged they were behaving. Just looking out for you? If they weren't so damn hot, you might slap them. But the fact that they were asking meant.... something, right? You ignored how that made your heart swoop and just kept walking.

"We have debate club together, and he keeps fucking shit up, that's all." You say, in spite of yourself. If you were smarter, you'd let them wonder what you were doing with him. But you couldn't keep from looking at them, and feeling disappointed you can't make out any relief in their eyes. But then, their arm is snaked around your waist and their lips are at your ear.

"You wear those skin fucking tight jeans to just study with him?" You grit your teeth, forcing your mouth to not say what you wanted so desperately to say: 'No, I wore them for you, and you're clearly the idiot if you can't tell that I am so wrapped around your finger that I will dress up just in case I see you.' and just roll your eyes instead. They let their hand slide from your waist to your back pocket, daring you to stop them. And of course you don't. With every inch their hand travels, your heart skips another beat. When they squeeze your ass ever so slightly, a whimper sneaks out before you can stop it.

And with that, you're being pressed against a tree and their lips are on your neck.

"Fuck, J." You curse as their teeth sink into your skin.

"You're mine, baby. Only mine." They murmur in your ear.

"Always have been." You say back, almost moaning as they continue their assault on your neck. They pull away at this.

"Yeah? That why you're spending all your time with Mathers and co instead of me, in such," They pause to run their hands on your hips, pulling you tight against them. "delicious clothes."

"I thought you weren't jealous." You murmur, sliding your hand up their back. "But I wore these, and what's underneath, for you and you alone. He's just a moron who's forced me to re-do my work twice this week alone."

"Oh, you poor baby. Let me take you up and make everyone hear who really owns you." You barely hold back a moan as they drag you up to your dorm to fulfill their promise.

[conniesanchor]

Please do one where Y/n get extremely hurt while tornado chasing and Tyler is protecting her and treating her wounds

combined with this request: or mb an established relationship n they go tornado chasing n she gets hurt and he has to help her before they both die (like how Kate helped own after the thing fell on him and they had to run to the cinema) by @inloveallthetime

warnings; mention of blood, not edited.

—

the storm is getting closer and closer with each second. “y/n, get in the damn truck!” your boyfriend, tyler owens, tells, hitting the hood of his red pickup.

you shake your head stubbornly, “we have to get closer, we’re gonna miss our chance,” you speak, looking up at the storm. debris is flying everywhere, branches nearly missing your head. you decide to run closer, however you’re quickly pushed back by a gust of wind, and you land on your back.

tyler runs towards you, his voice laced with worry, “y/n!” he screams, not getting to you before a large piece of scrap metal flys by and scrapes your leg.

“tyler, it’s- shit it’s getting closer,” you voice, he doesn’t speak, his nerves racing as fast as yours. he picks you up, sprinting to the car. in a rush, he opens the passenger side door, putting you inside and shutting it. he goes over to the driver side, forfeiting the seatbelt, and practically stomps on the gas pedal.

it takes a few minutes, but eventually you get away from the storm and back to the road. “ty, i’m sorry,” you mumble, your hand putting pressure on your bloody leg. he only shakes his head in response and keeps driving. the drive back to the motel is a long one. he doesn’t speak all the way home, but you notice him glancing at your wound every couple seconds.

finally, you pull into the motel’s parking lot. tyler opens his door and walks over to yours. he opens it, offering you his hand. you gladly accept, limping out of the car. he lets out a frustrated huff, lifting you up once more. with more struggle than he’s willing to admit, he gets the door unlocked and gets you inside the room and on top of the bed before shutting it.

he stands there for a moment, just looking at you with a look of disappointment and frustration. he then moves into the bathroom to grab a first aid kit. “i need your jeans off,” he mumbles. normally, one of you would make a suggestive joke, but now, neither of you say anything. you just stand up on one leg, unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down. tyler pushes you back down softly, “i’ve got it, you’re alright.” he pulls them down the rest of the way.

he wets a cotton ball with some rubbing alcohol, giving you fair warning, “it’s gonna hurt, baby.” it’s mumbled, but still there. it lets you know that even though he’s upset, you’re still his girlfriend and he loves you. he gently presses it against the wound, lifting up each time he moves further down.

your boyfriend finished within a few moments, he wraps a bandage around the wound that stretches from your upper thigh to just above your knee. “it isn’t deep enough to need stitches, but it’s definitely gonna be rough to put weight on for a few days.”

you nod slowly, mumbling a thanks. your nervous for what’s to come. you know he’s upset and you don’t want to press anything, so you just grab your bag that was luckily already close to the bed and slip some shorts on. he slips into the bathroom wordlessly and you hear the water turn on.

tyler spends only about a half hour in the shower. you spend that time on the bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. when he gets out, he turns the lamp beside your bed on and shuts the big light off. “i’m sorry,” you mumble, looking up at him.

his anger seemed to subside with the shower, which was really the whole point of it. “i don’t tell you what to do for no reason, sweetheart. it’s to protect you, and when you don’t do that, you can get hurt.”

you nod your head slowly, “i know, ty. i just-” you start, your voice shaky. “the closer we get the more likely we are to see where it’s going and we can get people safe.”

your boyfriend scoffs, frustrated, “you don’t get to put other people’s safety above your own, y/n!” he shouts.

your taken aback at his tone, “i know that, tyler!” you stand, quickly wincing and sitting back down when a sharp pain shoot’s up your leg.

he moves to sit next to you, grabbing your hand to keep you from jolting up again, “i don’t want you to think i don’t trust you, darlin’. you just..” he trails off when he sees one of your tears fall. moving his hands to gently pad away your tears, he continues, “you’re new at this. i know you can handle yourself, but you can’t be so reckless all the time. okay? i can’t lose you.” he speaks genuinely, his fingers gently rubbing against the bandage on your thigh.

you sniff quietly, “i’m really sorry. you’re right, i just wanna help people.”

he lets out a chuckle, “i know that, sweetheart. and we do what we can, we just… we can’t save them all,” he smiles, “that’s my favorite thing about you.”

“i’m really sorry, ty. i promise i’ll listen from now on.”

tyler nods, “i know you will. and i’m not just saying all this to be mean, but you got hurt today. it could have been a lot worse and it would have been avoided if you had just gotten into the car,” he starts his hand drawing patterns against your skin, “i appreciate you saying you’ll listen from now on. i know what i’m doin’, darlin’.”

you smile, “i know you do. thank you for trying to protect me. sorry for scaring you.”

he returns your smile, “don’t be sorry, let’s just try not to give me another heart attack?” when you nod he continues, “and i’ll always protect you, sweetheart. it’s in my job description.”