#I'm just tired. Nothing I do ever feels right. I feel like the world is telling me I don't deserve anything and I kind of agree | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 8 months ago

Text

Overprotective- Jacaerys Velaryon

A/N: My thoughts lie only on HOTD, and most of those thoughts are on this PRINCE. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 3.0k Synopsis: Jace's overprotective nature begins to grate on the reader's nerves as the birth of their first child looms closer.

Legend told that when in the womb, Targaryen babies started out as dragons before transforming into human children. It was nothing more than a silly folktale, your Targaryen family had assured you. But waking up in the dark of night, flinging the covers off of your scorching body, you aren't so sure.

Your nights had been spent like this for nearly two months now. If it wasn't the heat that coated your body, clinging sweat to your brow, it was waking up nearly ever hour to relieve yourself.

The child growing in your stomach was truly a Targaryen - passionate and unyielding.

The first four months of your pregnancy had been wonderful. You had none of the sickness that so many face in the early stages of their maternity. Back then you were often tired, but the child slept whenever you did. And to top it all off, Jace was a perfect husband. He brought you water when you needed it, rubbed your feet when they were aching, and then, you had wanted him constantly, and he had been more than happy to oblige.

But things change quickly during pregnancy, you are coming to understand. Jace wakes up next to you now, sitting up immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Nothing," you say, turning to face him. Your bedroom is dark, but even so, you can see the worry in his eyes. "Just too hot."

"Can I do anything for you? Should I call the Maester?"

"No, I'm fine," you say, straining to get out of bed. He supports your back, giving you the extra push to get up. You hate that he has to do this, that he has to push on your sweat drenched back, in order for you to stand.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"To relieve myself."

"You just got up--"

"I know, Jacaerys," you snap, holding your stomach as you leave the room.

Jace had been wonderful those first few months, when you had been in high spirits. But now, you were in pain constantly, which made you irritable, which made any attempt he made to help you irksome.

When you came back into the room, Jace is still up, his head resting on his pillow. He lifts it a little when you come back in, smiling at you gently. The sheets have been changed - another new routine - but one that doesn't bother you so much. It made a world of difference to lay down in a cool, clean bed after waking in a pool of your own sweat.

"All right?" he asks as you lay down beside him.

"Yes."

"Sure?"

"Yes, why?" you ask, tilting your head up to look at him.

"Because you called me Jacaerys," he says, brushing a stray hair off your brow. "You only do that when you're mad at me." You let out a breath of laughter, but immediately feel like the emotion could change into a sob. Jace must see it, too, because he scoots closer, pulling you into his bare arms.

"Hey," he says, kissing your forehead, "You can call me Jacaerys whenever you like."

"I'm not mad at you," you say, turning into him, so your growing stomach presses into his. "There's just this monster inside of me making me go mad." Jace smiles to himself, nodding his head.

"I know."

"I love you," you say, a hand to his cheek. He leans in to kiss you, his lips cool. When you break apart, you realize the windows are wide open, and while you've been sweating all night, he has to be freezing. You start to say something about it, but he cuts you off.

"I'm fine," he says. "I love you. Please just try to get some sleep."

"Get off me, then," you say, pushing him playfully. He smirks, falling back over to his side, taking your share of the blankets, as well. You lay on your back, and can't help the groan of pain at the pressure the position puts on you. Jace immediately reaches for your hand.

"Jacaerys," you say, squeezing his palm once. He laughs.

"Good night, Y/N."

"Goodnight."

At seven months pregnant, the burning has finally stopped, but you feel weaker still. Every movement puts pain on your back, your shoulders, your feet. You and Jace speak a language that is mostly moans and groans, and not the kind that used to be typical for the two of you.

One morning, when Jace is away at Driftmark, Rhaenyra joins you for breakfast. At the sight of your sovereign, you try to stand, which makes Rhaenyra laugh.

"Don't trouble yourself, Y/N," she says, walking towards you. "I remember when I was your size. Took me all morning just to get out of bed." You give her a tight lipped smile, settling back into the comfy position you had arranged for yourself.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"How are you feeling?" she asks, pouring herself a cup of tea. She motions to you, but you decline with a shake of your head.

"I'm alright."

"Is she kicking?" she asks, nodding to the hand on your belly.

"Only when I'm trying to sleep," you say with a laugh. "You agree with Jace, then? You think it'll be a girl?"

"The way you're carrying, yes, but one never really can tell. What are you hoping for?" she asks.

"For these next months to pass quickly," you say, straining when a nerve pinches in your side. You adjust your position, and find that Rhaenyra is looking at you with a small, understanding smile. "And of course, for a healthy baby."

"Of course."

"I don't know how you've done this so many times," you say. "Does it get any easier?"

"No," she says simply. You sigh, which makes her smile grow. "How has Jace been?" she asks.

"Very protective," you say, smiling. "Maybe too much so. I feel like if I just breathe wrong he's on alert, worried something has happened." A strange expression passes over Rhaenyra's face - equal parts pride and sorrow.

"I'm afraid Jacaerys has seen more than his fair share of pregnancies gone wrong," she says gently.

"I'm sorry, I know," you say, embarrassment passing through you.

"That's not to say that he isn't overbearing," she adds with a smile. "He's much like his father that way."

"Really?"

"He couldn't always be there," she says, "But when he was, he made up for the time apart with his watch over me." You smile at her as the door opens across the room, and Jace enters.

"You're back early," Rhaenyra says, lifting an eyebrow at him. He smells salty when he leans down to kiss you. He smiles at you, then looks to his mother.

"Thought I might join you for breakfast," he says, sitting next to you. "Besides, I was needed here more than at Driftmark." You exchange a look with Rhaenyra.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asks you.

"Just fine, Jacaerys," you say, patting his cheek. "You didn't need to cut your visit short."

"Well, there is something I need to do here nonetheless."

"What's that?" you ask.

"It seems Syrax has laid another clutch of eggs. Joff and I are going to retrieve them, and the younger boys are going to help us pick one for the babe," he says, a hand on your stomach. You smile at him, at the gentle caress of his hand. You know he comes from a place of love with his attention.

"Do you want to join us?" he asks.

"I doubt I could make it downstairs, much less down to the Dragonpit."

"We could bring them to you," he says.

"No," you say, "Decide with your brothers. Just pick out a good one." He nods to you, leaning in to kiss your temple.

At the end of breakfast, Jace goes off to the Dragonpit, but only at your insistence. He wanted to walk you back to your chambers, but Rhaenyra assured him she was more than up to the task. Once he was out of sight, she laughed to herself.

"I see what you mean," she says.

Jace returns to your room that night with a shiny, white dragon egg.

Jace's lips are soft on yours. At eight months pregnant, finding moments with him is getting harder every day. He lies next to you, a hand on your stomach, the other cradling the back of your head.

"Y/N," he hums, each word spoken onto your lips, "I want you." You make a sound in your throat, both in agreement and in discomfort. It has been too long since the two of you have been intimate.

"I'm huge," you say.

"You're not and I don't care," he says, his mouth moving across your jaw.

"The last time we did this," you breathe, arching into him when he nips at your earlobe, "We had to stop because you worried you'd hurt the baby."

"I promise I'll relax this time," he says.

"How could you even get to me?" you ask with a laugh. Jace smiles at you as his hand moves from your stomach to your hip, turning you onto your side easily. He presses up behind you, kissing along your neck.

You sigh, relaxing into him. His hand pulls up the skirt of your nightgown, exposing your legs to the cool night air. It has been so long that you know you're ready for him immediately.

"Just tell me if I'm hurting you," he says. You groan, putting a hand to his face to stop him from kissing you more. "Y/N."

"Jace." You scoot away from him, turning slowly to face him.

"I didn't mean anything by it," he says with a sigh.

"How many times have you fucked me in that same position?" you ask. Jace frowns, frustration evident on his face. "Have you ever hurt me?"

"No, but things are different," he says. "What's the harm in asking if you feel okay?"

"It doesn't make me feel desirable," you say, looking up at the ceiling, stupid, frustrating tears forming in your eyes again. Jace sighs and moves to your side, propping himself up on an elbow so you have to look at him.

"Y/N," he says gently. "Of course you are desirable. You are still the most beautiful, incredible woman I know. And it's because you are so incredible that I want to make sure that I don't do anything that puts you in more pain than I know you are already in."

"I promise I will tell you if I am hurting, okay? You don't have to coddle me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," you say, hand on his cheek to bring his lips to yours. "I'm the bitch for complaining about her kind husband." He laughs and kisses your palm.

"You're not a bitch," he says. You kiss him again. "Now please roll onto your side and let me fuck you." You laugh, doing as he says.

"Of course, My Prince."

Jace is at Dragonstone Castle when you go into labor. He has been anxious for the last month, knowing that any day the baby could arrive. He intended to postpone this meeting with the great houses, but you assured him that the babe would not come today. The only thing that kept him to his promise was the fact that Vermax could bring him back to the Red Keep quickly.

When Joffrey bursts into the room, Jace is immediately on his feet, already fearing the worst.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Y/N has gone into labor."

Jace barely spares a glance at the lords around the table. He urges Joffrey along. His brother had the foresight to request that Vermax be readied for when they arrived upon the shore.

The ride is quick, as he knew it would be, but he still urges Vermax along, wanting and needing to be close to you as soon as he can.

When he gets to the Red Keep, he runs up to your chambers, intending to throw them open and run to your side. Instead, he finds that they are locked. He can hear soft discussion, encouragements, but the loudest sound coming through the door is your screaming.

Joffrey followed him to the door and carefully peels him away. "She's alright," he insists. Jace won't be able to agree until he can see you himself.

Together, they sit outside your door for the next three hours. Joffrey doesn't say much, but when your screaming gets louder, or there seems to be a rise in urgency to the voices inside, he puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.

It seems like ages have passed when the doors finally open.

He doesn't wait to hear what the Maester has to say. He rushes into the room, his eyes going immediately to your bed. Midwives quickly take away bloodied sheets, and when they clear, he sees you. You are drenched in sweat, your hair matted all around you, and he's not sure he's ever seen you look more beautiful.

"Y/N," he says, as if he's looking upon the gods themselves. You look up at him, your face breaking into a smile. He rushes to your side.

"Are you okay?" he asks, taking your face in his hands.

"I'm okay," you say, laying a hand over his. He laughs. It's a result of the built up tension from the hallway, and he can't stop himself. He laughs as he kisses you, over and over. You laugh, too, and he tastes the salt of your tears on your lips.

"What is it?" he asks, quickly studying your face.

"Don't you want to meet him?" you ask.

"Him?" Jace's face falls in awe.

"Him," you say. You look towards one of the midwives and they bring over the smallest bundle Jace has ever seen. He sinks onto the bed beside you as the babe is placed in his arms.

"Hello," he says quietly. You lean onto his shoulder, looking down at your son with a smile on your face.

"Isn't he beautiful?" you ask, your voice a whisper.

"Yes," he says, his heart still thundering from the surprise. "What have you called him?" he asks.

"I assumed we'd discuss that together," you say, "But I was thinking Lucerys, if that'd be alright." Jace has tears of his own in his eyes. He bites back his smile, unable to put into words what the name means to him, what you mean to him. He nods his head.

"Does that sound good to you, Lucerys?" you ask, your finger touching the blanket over the baby's stomach. He starts to move around, crying out just a little. Like you've done it a million times before, you take Lucerys into your arms and shush him gently.

Jace kisses your temple repeatedly, until you laugh. You turn towards him and kiss him fully, passionately.

"I love you so much," he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"I love you, too."

You stay in that position for an hour or so, Jace holding you, and you holding Lucerys. Joffrey is the first to meet the future heir to the throne, and he kisses you on the cheek when he learns his nephew's name.

When his mother enters the room, Jace doesn't stand, wanting to keep you in his arms forever. She is all smiles as she leans over your opposite shoulder. You sit up slowly, and Jace's arm around you helps guide you upright.

"Hello, little one," Rhaenyra says, taking the child into her arms. You sigh happily, watching her interact with him. Jace can't keep from kissing your face a few more times. He doesn't think he has ever been this in love with you.

"And what is the name of our little prince?" Rhaenyra asks, looking between the two of you. Jace looks down at you, but you nod your head to him.

"We've decided to name him Lucerys," he says simply. Rhaenyra's expression changes immediately, her eyes welling up with tears of her own. Holding Lucerys in one arm, she leans down to kiss you both.

"A fine name," she says through tears. "You did well," she says, looking at you. You smile back, tears forming again in your own.

After a few moments in her arms, she hands your son back to you, and departs, letting the two of you get acquainted to your new family. Neither of you say much. You just watch Lucerys with rapt attention, counting his fingers, and touching his soft patch of hair.

"He's so beautiful," you say quietly.

"He is."

"I don't think I'm ever going to let him out of my sight," you say, looking up at Jace with a smile. He smiles back, but notices the exhaustion on your face.

"Maybe you can for a little while," he says, "Just to get some rest."

"Still so overprotective," you say with a smirk.

"I've got two to protect now," he says, "So if you could just once let me take care of you without arguing--" You cut him off with a kiss.

"I'll try," you say. "But don't either of you leave this room."

"I don't think you could kick us out if you wanted to."

Jace stands with his son in his arms, watching as you lay down. The midwives come back in to check on you and Lucerys, before leaving the three of you alone for the time.

"It's okay, Y/N," he says lowly, when you still haven't shut your eyes, your gaze locked on the two of them. "We'll be here."

"Promise?"

"I swear it," he says, giving you an easy smile. He watches you close your eyes, and in a few moments, your breath falls into an easy rhythm, just like Lucerys's.

Jace looks down at his son. He doesn't want to disturb his sleep, but he wants to tell him, here and now, that he'll always be overprotective. So he makes the vow to himself, just like the one he made when he married you. He is always going to protect the people he loves, even if it sometimes drives them mad.

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction

6K notes · View notes

sceletaflores · 5 months ago

Text

woo, my baby's got me all mixed up!

feat: logan howlett & wade wilson

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, swearing, a bastard doomed polycule, more of 'why have just one bf when you can two bf's and why have just two bf's when you can have two bf's that are also each other’s bf's???', p in v, double penetration, one (1) single use of daddy, creampie(s), fingering...kind of (fem!receiving), oral sex, face sitting, face fucking, straight up nasty porn w/ zero plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: this is a shorter one-shot but i can't not format it like a full fic i have to or i'll get hives. this is also just pure freak nasty gross actually probably the filthiest thing i've ever written that i thought up off too much nyquil pm last night. kisses!

wade gets to whiskin’ (and logan's there too)…

"You're killing me babe," Wade groans lowly, cheek pressed to the slick skin of your inner thigh. "If my balls didn't feel like they just got the shit beat out of them in a back alley I'd be as hard as David Hasselhoff watching David Hasselhoff movies."

His hand is at work between your thighs, thick index finger slipped into your sensitive, puffy pussy.

It should gross you out that he loves doing this so much. It should make your stomach twist with all the unpleasant feelings a normal person might get.

It should, but it doesn't.

The familiar stretch is lost from taking Logan and Wade at the same time, a rare thing in your sex life because of how big they both are. But you were in a mood tonight.

Your pussy still clenches around him, trying in vain to tighten up, not used to feeling so empty.

The subtle pressure of Wade’s finger toes the line between pleasure and the sharp burn of 'almost too much' as it swirls along the sensitive walls of your pussy.

The first time he did it you were too fucked out of your mind to do anything other than ask what the hell he was doing.

"Gotta mix it up babe," was his reply, as easy as anything. "Don't want the baby batter to curdle, if you know what I mean."

Your heart stopped, flames lapping their way up your body as Wade scooped the thin line of come trickling from your abused hole to fuck it back in, back where it belonged.

It was so filthy, so depraved that it made you go liquid between your legs.

Your eyes almost immediately slid over to Logan, ready to see him shaking his head in irritation like he usually did whenever Wade ran his mouth in bed. You found nothing, no deep grimace or raised brow in sight.

There was an unmistakable heat in his gaze that matched your own, the inky black of his pupils blown so wide you could hardly see the hazel of his irises.

The casual raise of his right shoulder when he met your eye was undermined by the way his cock started to harden where it laid against his thigh, effectively tattling on him.

It told you all you needed to know about how he really felt watching Wade between your spread legs. That alone was enough to get you ready to go all over again.

It sort of became a thing after that.

"I'm not even doing anything..." you mumble breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't have to baby," Logan purrs from behind you, lips pressed to the top of your head. His hand skimming down the side of your body is enough to make goosebumps pebble along your skin, "Look perfect just like this."

It's been hours now, but they're still going. You're convinced that the two of them are the world's biggest horndogs, just once is never enough.

You lost track of tonight's rounds sometime after number five, not counting mouth and hand stuff of course. And it's starting to catch up to you, you’re tired, spent.

Wade curls his finger just right, brushing against the spot inside you that has a broken whine passing through your grit teeth. Your thighs start to tremble as a smug grin spreads across his face.

"Yeah, there it is," he teases, his voice low. He keeps the tip of his finger snug against that spot, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nerves. "That's that spot ain't it, gorgeous."

"Wade," you mewl, hands fisting the sheets as you fight to keep still. You're worried too much squirming will make their come start dripping out around Wade's wrist, and you can't have that.

There’s a sudden silence to your right, the heaviness of it pulling at your attention. You shift slightly, catching the faintest rustle of movement from Logan.

His breath is warm against the crown of your skill, his strong chest still plastered to your back—but he's too quiet, too still. You tilt your head just enough to peek at him out of the corner of your eye, and the sight alone is almost enough to make you come on the spot.

Logan is leaning against the headboard lazily, arm that isn't circled around your waist snaking down his own with the hard length of his cock in his hand.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him, red and leaking pre-come all over his knuckles each time he twists his fist over the thick head. Your hips grind down unconsciously, a needy moan falling from your parted lips. The wet sound of it has your cheeks burning, eyes fixed on the way his heavy balls bounce with each rough tug, still so full.

"Fuck, that's it," Wade murmurs, slipping a second finger inside you while he presses a shit-eating grin to the soft skin of your lower stomach. "You like it when daddy jerks off while I'm knuckle deep in you?"

"Watch it," Logan mutters warningly, tone gone low and dark as spilled ink. His hand doesn't slow, the loose grip of his fist slipping up and down his dripping cock in time with the slick squelch of your pussy.

Your hips buck up against Wade’s hand, a loud whine tearing from your chest at the dirtiness of this whole thing. The familiar heat starts to stir in your belly, your pussy drooling more mess over his wrist the longer he plays with you.

Wade barely muffles his chuckle against your hip, dropping a quick kiss there before pulling his soaked fingers from your velvety warmth. You whine at the loss, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

You’ll both get what you want soon enough.

"Alright, we should all know the drill by now people," he announces to you and Logan with a loud clap, pulling away from between your thighs to roll flat onto his back.

“Time to hop on the saddle, John Wayne,” he finishes, giving your ass a loving tap.

Logan snorts into your hair, dropping his cock to grab your hips and gently manhandle you until you’re situated directly over Wade’s face while Logan kneels in front of you. The jut of his cock bobbing inches away from your mouth.

Wade’s greedy fingers pry your swollen lips apart to watch the way his and Logan’s come starts to seep out from you, falling to drip onto his bare chest. He blows over the wet length of you, the cool air from his mouth has your hips twitching down in search of any friction you can get.

“Not so fast,” he scolds lightly, grinding his knuckle against the wet seam of you. Your nails dig crescent moons into his scarred shoulders, threatening to break the skin.

“You’ve gotta savor this moment, hot stuff,” he says slowly, leaning up to press a kiss directly over your throbbing clit. “You got the best seat in the house, don’t take it for granted–”

"Enough," Logan grunts, heavy hands falling on your shoulders to push you down on Wade's face, fully closing the gap. "Quit runnin' your damn mouth and make our girl feel good, red."

Wade's hands tighten their hold on your thighs, his hips bucking up off the mattress like he can't help it. His surprised moan rumbles against your clit, loud and shameless.

You cry out at the first drag of his tongue over your aching pussy, hot and wet as it slides through your dripping slit. You pitch forward, too caught up in pleasure to think clearly as you take Logan’s cock into your mouth. You take him all the way down to the root in one swift move, burying your nose in the dark hair surrounding the base.

"Fuck," Logan bites out, eyes twisting shut as he feels your warm throat enveloping him. He takes your hair in his fist gently, just holding it as you swallow around him.

Your hands move to rest on his thick thighs, nails scratching over the hair scattered along his skin. His breath shutters in his chest, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly, chasing the tight heat of your mouth.

The mix of your tongue tracing along the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock and the low, wet sounds of Wade devouring you has him pulsing in your mouth.

Your thighs shake on either side of Wade's head, the steady grip of his hands the only thing that keeps you from collapsing into a boneless heap on the mattress.

Your hips twitch the tiniest bit, rocking forward enough to grind your clit over the slope of his nose. He groans under you, squeezing the meat of your thighs in encouragement as he swirls his tongue through the mess dripping from your hole.

“That’s a good girl,” Logan praises gruffly, his hips speeding up. “Shut him up, baby. Make him fuckin’ eat it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, dragging your pussy along Wade’s mouth faster. You moan desperately around your mouthful, brain going hazy around the edges.

The frantic pace you set only makes their come leak from you faster, dripping down Wade’s face faster than he can keep up, and there's just so much.

A steady, thick stream of it that feels almost never ending thanks to Logan coming like he busted a pipe and absolutely flooding your insides every single time.

Wade doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest though, swirling his tongue along you with a new sense of urgency. His hands grip your hips tighter, his blunt nails digging into your skin deliciously as he slurps and sucks with unbridled enthusiasm, chasing every drop of come.

He’s sloppy with it, come sliding down his cheeks and chin in thin rivers of white.

Logan’s rough breath hitches above you, his fingers tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks just the way he likes. His growl sends a thrill down your spine.

"C'mon, Wilson," Logan grunts, his hips speeding up. When you peer up at him, you can see the goading smile that just barely tugs the corner of his mouth up.

“Spitters are quitters, you know that."

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

1K notes · View notes

dont-look-its-embarrassing · 5 months ago

Text

To Be Seen

Azriel x Reader

This is my first ever one-shot or fanfiction type writing on here, so be patient with me bc it will be FAR from perfect or good.

This is purely self-indulgent bc again, I'm new at this and just wanted to write an insert or y/n type little blurb.

Summary; Being the best friend of Feyre when she was human, you regretfully got roped in and turned with her sisters as a tool for manipulation by Hybern. As the sister's find it hard to settle in claiming the attention of the two other bats, you attempt to make Feyre's and the inner court's life easier by flying under the radar and figuring it out on your own. However, are you really as unnoticed as you hope or is a certain shadowsinger entrapped by your caring and soft nature as his heart battles his mind for the third sister or you.

Warnings: None really, mentions of PTSD and anxiety, loneliness and self-help, slow-burn, slight angst with a fluffy ending, reader just wants to be seen but feels like she can't ask

Word count: 2,389

Pt2

The sound of a door opening broke you out of your thoughts as you sat in the drawing room in the house of wind. The gentle crackle of the fire Infront of you allowed your body to sit comfortably within the rather cold season and the book you were just reading sat loose in your lap. You haven't gotten used to your enhanced hearing yet as your now longer and thicker hair gently fell from where you had tucked it behind your ear.

"Y/n?" Your best friend's voice echoed into the room as her footsteps followed. A soft smile spread across your features as she came in, confirmed you where there, and plopped down ungraciously on the couch next to you. "Thank the mother you are here."

Her features where stressed, the worry written all over her face as she took your form in.

"What's going on?" You ask, hopeful to help.

Feyre let out a sigh as she let her eyes wonder to the fire Infront of the both of you.

"Nothing. Everything. I don't know, it seems that everything I do to try and help Nesta and Elaine seems to only make things worse." She rung her hands, a trait she picked up back in the human lands when she was nervous or upset. "It just never seems enough to make them comfortable or to try and apologize for everything that happened."

Your best friend's eyes slightly widened as she took her gaze from the flames.

"How are you? Are you doing okay?" The genuine care and concern oozing off of the female Infront of you reminded you of why you cared so much about your friend in the first place. When she was taken, you had searched high and low for her in hopes to get her back only to have her return happy and healthy with a loving man, or male, doting on her every need. You were ecstatic, and expressed yourself as so, even if it was with fae beings. When you and her sisters were taken, that happiness was put on hold to make sure that you are all where comfortable. Feyre's self-sacrificing nature did always drive you mad, even now when she was so close to being truly happy.

"I'm okay Feyre." She shot you a look, trying to dig deeper and call the bluff you made. "Seriously, I'm here with you and in an amazing place that I could only dream of with great people."

"A lot happened Y/n. A lot happened to Elaine and Nesta, but a lot happened to you." She was right, and it was weird for you to be so put together when the worlds of the other two were falling to pieces. With your more emotional and strong relationship with Feyre, you had been held captive with her sisters yes, but you also took the brunt of interrogation that the wicked king deemed necessary to gain any information of her court. You had put yourself in that position, you knew how awful she would feel about her familial blood being brutalized in such a way, so you took the heat. But, in the end, her sisters still took the change harder and refused to accept their new life, making everyone on edge and overexerting themselves to help.

With one look at your best friend's-tired eyes, you knew that she couldn't handle another burden. More like she shouldn't have to handle another burden.

The word tasted sour on your tongue.

Burden.

Shaking your head a small gentle smile graced your face, and you forced your features to emulate that same energy.

"I'm okay Feyre, really. Aside from some cool new power thing that I haven't figured out, I'm fine. " The breath she released could only register as relief in your mind as she met your smile.

"Okay, and we will definitely start working on that when we are all settled here." Her reassurance did little to reassure that it would be investigated. Again, with the two sisters gaining war altering abilities, your random energy (that had yet to manifest) would be put on the back burner until everyone else was settled. Again, the slight dismissal ached, but you understood the need for others to take precedence.

Giving a little nod, you two sit in silence for a bit just listening to the crackling of the fire and enjoying each other's presence. That is, until a wince rippled across your friends face and she slowly rose.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. I think Elaine is out and not talking to Lucien and it's a mess-"

"It's fine Feyre, go make sure they are okay." You assure with the same smile. Giving one last 'thank you, I love you' she was gone like the wind that howled outside the windows. The silence that followed her exit had the ringing in your ears become a bit to unbearable. Removing yourself from the couch, you travel down to your room and grab a quick change of footwear.

Today would be a good day to explore the town, or at least good enough to get your mind out of the dark slump of trying to acclimate to its' new body and abilities.

Making your way towards the door, a small flicker of shadow catches your eye.

"Hello?" You call. You know that Rhys is most likely with Feyre and Azriel is also probably there because of Elaine, so you dismiss it quickly after a moment, chalking it up to just a trick of the light.

Opening the door, the slight chill on the wind has a shiver run through you, but the sun quickly chased it away. Breathing a sigh, you look at the vastness of the stairs below you.

No time like the present.

Taking one step at a time and avid breaks when needed, you would rather not admit to yourself just how much time that trek took. However, upon reaching the bottom, the satisfaction that filled you outweighed the journey. Walking down the streets of Velaris, the bustling normality of the people filled you with ease. As your heels clicked against the stones below, your gaze just missed the little shadow that trailed behind your body.

Taking in the colors and vibrant people, the ease and happiness that covered their faces had the ache in your gut grow more and more. Your mind wandered to if you would ever be that happy and mundane. With everything that had happened so far, the familiar life in the human forest (although had its struggles) seemed like an ideal. It was the lack of routine, lack of knowledge, the newly sprouted life, the misplacement, all of it plus more. You didn't notice your breathing gain more weight and take longer to fill your lungs than it did at the house. You also didn't notice the little skitter of the shadow that had followed you as it raced away towards some unseen location. The heat in your body seemed to increase as the sight of a simple family loving and walking together entered your mind.

Would anyone love you like this?

You couldn't think.

Ducking into a nearby ally, the overhead sheets and covering allowed it to be shaded and darker than the streets 20 feet away. Even then, the darkness of the ally seemed to illuminate with your presence there. However, it wasn't the light, it was the lack of grasp of oxygen you could inhale and the strenuous shaking your body couldn't stop. The tears that fell without your knowledge burned their tracks into your skin and sizzled as they hit the ground. Your body gave way to the spasms that took ahold of you as your mind raced. Burring your head into your knees, you attempted to shut the world out and let your mind slow but to no avail. You wished the darkness of the alley would swallow you whole, allow the sun and light to escape you being seen just this once.

Almost as if your prayers where in fact answered, the light surrounding you died as the darkness of the ally surrounded you. Picking your head up to view what cloud or magical being answered your plea, your eyes were met with those of hazel crouching Infront of you.

"Azriel?" You hadn't met this male for more than a couple days ago. He was nice, offering to go with you places or chat every so often. You had a couple nightly talks with him where you shared some stories between the two of you. Nothing out of the ordinary though, you felt safe around him when he was near. Confusion washed your features and for a moment your brain stopped running in circles and focused on why the male might be in front of you in this very unfortunate situation.

"You're okay." His large hands had gently pried your head from between your own. He Slowly, as if not to spook you further, reached for your hands and took them in his own. As twisted as it sounded, the morbid scarring that littered his skin grounded you further and pulled you back to this moment and out of that forsaken cell and cold water. "Focus on me, breathe."

The ease of your breath returned as the seeming dark cloud that surrounded you peeled back revealing that same dampened alleyway. However, the slight char on the walls and burns on the ground was distinct enough to question. Looking around, more of those marks surrounded you but faded as it got further from you. Opening your mouth to ask, a quick look from the male had you hesitant as he shook his head.

"One thing at a time sunshine." You nod, ignoring the small butterfly that hatched in your stomach at the nickname, but the pain in your head from the little outburst brought you back to reality. Bringing your hand up to caress the muscle between your eyes, Azriel scanned you from head to toe checking for any other possible injuries. "Let's get you back to the house, okay? Have Madja take a look at you and maybe give you something to help process."

Although the beginning of his statement was directed at you, for an answer, the second part was mumbled more to himself.

"Okay." The short response was all you could get past your lips as he sent you a small smile and opened his arms.

Looking at him questionably, he held back a chuckle.

"Have you never flown?" Shaking your head, no, you had never flown before. Winnowed? Yes, but never in the arms of one of the three males residing in the same house at you. The aspect of Azriel being your first had a little flush cover your cheeks. He approached you carefully, scanning your eyes for any aversion to being touched or space invaded. If you didn't just have a literally breakdown in the middle of Velaris, you could've sworn there was a deeper emotion residing in his eyes.

Guilt?

Worry?

Longing?

You couldn't place it and decided not to keep the process waiting. Taking a step towards him, he kept his arms spread out to accompany your space against his.

"Wrap your arms around me." His voice was lowered with your closer proximity. Slowly you brought your arms to wrap around the back of his neck. He waited until you settled there before moving to hoist you up into his arms and walk slightly out of the alley to give his wings more room to take flight.

While doing so, you couldn't help but settle into his warmth as it felt nice against our colder frame. With all the adrenaline wearing off, you were left shivering.

"Make sure to hold on." He noted, which was all the notice you got before suddenly you two were no longer on the ground. Tightening your grip instinctually, you shut your eyes as you could practically feel the male smile at your nature.

"How did you get down there anyway?" With the loud wind it was hard to hear, but again due to the lack of space between the two of you his voice rang clear.

"I walked."

"Down those?" Without realizing the easygoing atmosphere he created, you had peered open your eyes to look down at the stairs you both were currently soaring over. Only a brief look however as you still had some human tendencies and did have a slight aversion to heights.

"Yeah." You nodded and went to shut your eyes once more to finish out the flight, but as you did you caught sight of a new look on the spymaster's face.

Pride.

Landing as softly as possible, Madja was already there waiting for the two of you to arrive. Without thinking, you blamed it on the spymaster's shadows (but grateful they were there). Feyre also stood to the side of her, worry wringing her hands again and you let out a sigh of defeat.

Stumbling out of Azriel's arms, he steadied you, giving a once over before his high lady had shot him an inquiring look. She looked at you shortly after.

"You are never to lie to me again Y/n, you hear?" Her chastising voice was filled with love and worry all the same.

But before you could open your mouth to respond with a thousand reasons why you might, a certain male beat you too it.

"Don't go too hard on her, admittedly we have all been a bit busy to check in." You both glanced back at the male in question as his shadows wrapped around him in song. He has said it was so to promise his attention to fix the problem, which warmed your core.

"She will be okay Feyre." Meeting eye contact with him, he had sent you a small nod of his head and smile before disappearing into the dark.

Your best friend looked at you in question, but a deeper thought was spinning in her head. However, the little throat clear of the healer nearby jumpstarted the next 24 hours of care and therapy from your best friend and the best healers in Prythian. The whole endeavor couldn't tear your thoughts to a certain inner court male and the way his arms felt around you.

Maybe you would be okay.

#acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #feyre archeron

884 notes · View notes

woso-dreamzzz · 12 days ago

Text

Javelin

Ona Batlle x Reader

Summary: You and Ona are each other's homes

The first time you met Ona, she kicked you in the face with a football.

In revenge, you threw it straight back at her and she accidentally lost a tooth from the impact.

You'd been best friends ever since then and your parents could barely keep the pair of you separated.

And as with all things like that, a relationship was naturally the next step.

Fumbles in the back rooms of the family home, making out in your room during family reunions, a kiss after Ona scores in an important match.

And all of those soft, teenage fumbles transformed into something much more beautiful.

You'd followed her to Manchester when she left Spain.

It had taken a lot, uprooting your whole life and moving to a different country whose language you hadn't paid much attention to in school.

Ona helped though.

Ona always helped.

That had always been the case.

Ona helped you and you helped her.

Your training never really went as long as hers. You weren't away from home as often as Ona was. Throwing a javelin wasn't quite as physically draining as football was so you were able to cook dinner and clean up and go to almost all of her matches to support her.

"That smells good."

Arms close around your waist gently and a head rests between your shoulder blades.

"Taste," You say, bringing a spoon up to Ona's lips straight from the pot," Good? Too salty? Not salty enough?"

"Perfect," Ona says," Perfect like always. You spoil me."

"You deserve to be spoiled."

Ona giggles a little, a soft kiss being pressed against your neck as she moves away. "I'll grab the plates."

You make a home in Manchester together before Barcelona come knocking and you're more than willing to return to Spain again.

You get another coaching team. You train in the heat.

You and Ona discuss a dog but nothing has come of it just yet. You bask in each other's company. You return to family reunions and seeing Ona's family on the weekend right until the summer.

The run up to the Olympics is brutal.

You're both tired and drained but it's a dream to represent Spain on a stage like that, to show people around the world just what you can do.

People watch events that they don't usually watch and if you can even convert one person into a javelin fan then it'll be an Olympics well spent.

You have your goals for this Olympics and Ona has hers.

And you hate seeing that her goals will be left unfinished.

"Hey..." You say gently as she approaches you at the barrier," I'm sorry."

You can see her putting on a brave face. You know it's fake.

You lean over and gently draw her closer.

Spain hadn't made it to the final. They'd lost the bronze medal.

Ona had lost the bronze medal.

Your own gold medal for javelin feels like a weight in your bag, heavy and you wish you could throw it in the river so Ona wouldn't be able to see it.

But you know that she knows you won it.

She'd sent a very long rambling text before setting up an accompanying phone call where she declared her love for you and told you how proud she was and how she couldn't wait to see your medal.

Now though, you don't want her to see it.

You don't want her to see it because you know she'll be reminded of what she's just lost and you can't do that to her.

You won't do that to her.

You refuse to do that to her.

So you hold Ona against you now as she rests her head in your shoulder and you play with the soft baby hairs that rest on the back of her neck.

"We've got a break now," You whisper to her, voice quiet and soft and everything she needs to hear right now," We'll go somewhere hot. With a beach. We'll relax and have some fun before the season starts again. Relax and reset."

"I wanted to win you a medal," Ona chokes out against your skin," I know you've already got one but-But I wanted to get you another one."

"I don't need another one," You assure her," I've got you. That's enough for me."

#woso x reader #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

477 notes · View notes

deansbeer · 2 months ago

Text

★ in his arms, the world fades // clark kent.

synopsis. feeling unwell and overwhelmed, you seek comfort in clark's arms. his warmth, soothing touch, and sweet words make the ache in your stomach—and your heart—feel bearable.

kari yaps. last night, i had horrible stomach pains and wrote this <333 + a lil disclaimer! i'm on ep 5 of smallville (the ads on hulu r mad annoying) so i only know a little about clark. but don't worry i will get to know all ab pookie soon !!! trust <33

it starts with the ache. sharp and twisting, like someone's wringing your stomach out like a wet rag. it's been days now—days of barely keeping food down, of your appetite wavering between nothing and everything, only for nausea to win every time. eating has become a battle, and losing feels inevitable. but you haven't told anyone, not really. maybe it's pride. maybe it's not wanting to worry anyone. maybe you're just hoping it'll go away on its own.

still, it lingers, and today's no different. you pull up to the kent farm, the gravel crunching under your tires, the sight of the red barn and yellow farmhouse somehow grounding you. you're supposed to be here to study. algebra—not exactly something you're excited about, but clark's always been good at making the hard stuff easier. it's one of the many things you love about him: his patience, his steadiness, the way he seems to know when you need a little extra reassurance. and maybe you need that today more than ever.

"hey, pretty girl," clark greets you at the door, his smile soft and familiar, like it's meant just for you. "you okay? you look…" he trails off, squinting at you in that way he does when he's trying to figure you out. "…tired."

you force a smile, shrugging it off. "just didn't sleep much last night."

it's not a lie, exactly. the ache had kept you up most of the night, twisting and turning beneath the covers, unable to find a position that didn't make it worse. but clark doesn't need to know that. not right now.

he nods, stepping aside to let you in. "i made us some lemonade," he says as you follow him up the stairs to his room. "my mom said it's good for focus or something. i don't know, but it tastes good."

you hum in response, though the thought of drinking anything right now makes your stomach churn. you'll figure out a way to avoid it later.

when you get to his room, it's the same as always—neat but lived-in, the bed made but the desk cluttered with papers and books, a small stack of cds next to his stereo. it smells faintly of pine and something distinctly clark, like sun-warmed hay and fresh laundry. it's comforting in a way you didn't realize you needed.

you settle on the floor with him, textbooks and notebooks spread out between you. he's already flipping through his algebra book, pen tapping idly against his knee as he scans the pages.

"okay," he says, glancing at you with a smile. "where should we start? graphing inequalities or quadratic equations?"

you groan, letting your head fall back against the bed. "do we have to start?"

he chuckles. "the exam's next week. i don't think mr. phillips is gonna let us wing it."

"worth a shot," you mutter, but you sit up anyway, flipping open your notebook to a blank page. you try to focus, really, but the ache is still there, dull and persistent, and it's hard to think about numbers and graphs when all you want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep.

half an hour in, you're staring at your notebook, pen tapping against the paper. clark's voice is distant as he explains something about parabolas, the words blurring together in your head. you're not even sure when you stopped listening. all you know is that your chest feels tight, your stomach twists again, and suddenly, you just can't anymore.

"hey," clark says, his voice soft with concern. "what's wrong?"

you don't answer, don't even look at him. instead, you set your notebook aside, shifting closer to him until you're wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of it. his skin is warm against your cheek, the faint scent of his cologne lingering there. you don't say anything, and neither does he, not at first. he just sits there, still and quiet, letting you hold on like he's been expecting this all along.

then, slowly, he moves. his arms come around you, strong and steady, and he shifts your things aside before effortlessly pulling you up with him onto the bed. his back hits the mattress, and you're lying on top of him, your head resting against his chest. his hands find your back, warm and soothing as they rub up and down in slow, gentle strokes.

you close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. his touch is enough to warm you, enough to quiet the ache in your stomach, at least for now. you don't know how he does it—how he makes everything feel a little less heavy just by being there.

your hands move to rest on his collarbone, fingers brushing against the fabric of his t-shirt. the side of your head presses against his chest, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. it's grounding in a way you didn't know you needed.

he doesn't say anything at first, just keeps rubbing your back, his touch slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly how to calm you down. but then he starts murmuring soft, sweet things in your ear, his voice low and soothing.

"you're okay," he says, his lips brushing against the top of your head. "whatever it is, you're okay. i've got you."

his hand moves to rest on the side of your head, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your hair. he presses another kiss to your temple, then another, each one softer than the last.

"you don't have to say anything," he whispers. "just let me hold you."

and you do. you let yourself relax against him, let yourself melt into his warmth. his chest rises and falls beneath you, steady and strong, and you match your breathing to his without even realizing it. the ache in your stomach is still there, but it feels distant now, muted by the way his hands move against your back, by the way his voice wraps around you like a blanket.

"you know," he starts after a while, his voice still soft, "i'm not great at algebra either. but i'm pretty sure lying here with you is a way better use of my time."

you let out a quiet laugh, your breath fanning against his chest. "you're supposed to be the responsible one."

"yeah, well," he murmurs, his fingers threading through your hair, "even superheroes need a break sometimes."

you tilt your head to look up at him, catching the small smile playing on his lips. "superhero, huh?"

"what? you didn't know?" his grin widens, teasing. "i'm kind of a big deal."

you roll your eyes, but there's no real bite to it. "you're ridiculous."

"maybe," he says, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "but i made you laugh, didn't i?"

you hum in response, letting your head fall back against his chest. the silence that follows is comfortable, the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket. his hand moves back to your back, tracing slow, lazy patterns against your spine.

"i mean it, though," he says after a while, his voice quieter now. "whatever's going on, you don't have to go through it alone. you can tell me."

"i know," you whisper, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "i just… i don't know. i've been feeling off lately. stomach stuff. it's probably nothing."

he frowns, his hand pausing mid-stroke. "how long?"

"a few days," you admit. "it's not a big deal. it'll pass."

"you don't know that," he says gently. "have you eaten today?"

you hesitate, and that's enough of an answer for him. he sighs, his hand resuming its slow movements against your back.

"you're stubborn, you know that?" he murmurs, but there's no heat behind it. just concern, soft and steady, like everything else about him.

"takes one to know one," you shoot back, your voice muffled against his chest.

he chuckles, the sound rumbling beneath you. "fair enough. but promise me you'll let me know if it gets worse, okay?"

"okay," you say, and you mean it. because if anyone can make you feel like everything's going to be okay, it's clark.

you stay like that for a while longer, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. the algebra books are forgotten, but neither of you seems to care. right now, this is enough. he's enough.

and for the first time in days, the ache in your stomach feels bearable.

⎯⎯ SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @floralscented @aileenunfiltered @st4rfckerz @jasvtsc . . . ୨୧

677 notes · View notes

alchemistc · 3 months ago

Text

Part One

Oh, I've got plenty to be thankful for

I've got eyes to see with

Ears to hear with

Arms to hug with

Lips to kiss with

Someone to adore

-bing crosby

He keeps waiting for someone to say something. To accuse him of lingering where he doesn't belong, or remind him he'd never actually made it all the way in. To tell him to go home, maybe get a halfhearted promise to let him know how Buck is at some point.

Maddie lays an exhausted head on his shoulder and Bobby sneaks him a slice of pumpkin pie he's apparently been hiding in the tote at his feet. Hen tosses him a power bank with a lightning cord and Karen makes a joke about his holiday attire.

When the coffee comes, Howie takes the trip to the lobby with him, pulls out his wallet and does his damnedest to strong arm Tommy into letting him tip the haggard looking girl another twenty bucks on top of the fifty Tommy'd figured was appropriate for having to balance a literal stack of hot beverages from the parking lot on Thanksgiving. She eyes them both with a smile and Tommy is more compelled the grab the drink carriers from her tired arms than stop Howie.

They're halfway back when Howie purposely slows his pace, and Tommy fights the urge to pick his up and avoid whatever's coming down on him. "So. Was this the wake up call you needed, or can I expect Buck to order a freezer on a Black Friday deal for my garage to store more baked goods?"

He doesn't know what that means.

He can extrapolate, though. "He's been baking?"

"Tommy, I cannot stress enough exactly how much he's been baking."

He'd tried his hand at a few things here and there, but Tommy's used to experimental chef Evan Buckley, not baking Evan Buckley. To be fair, if he'd seen Evan working a KitchenAid, apron tied loose and flour on a cheekbone, Tommy doubts he'd have actually had the time to finish whatever he had planned. That was then, of course.

"What was he doing on that trail, Howie?" That, too, he could maybe extrapolate. He doesn't want to, but he could.

Howie eyes him. Uses his free arm to elbow Tommy in the ribs. "You were the first person he ever invited to a 118 Thanksgiving, you know. My guess? He wasn't in the mood to be reminded of it while there was no room in the oven to bake away his feelings."

Yeah.

Jax had been over the moon when Tommy offered to take his shift, no trades necessary. What would the point have been, when Christmas and New Year's would be unbooked too?

Evan had bribed like six different people to ensure they'd be able to swing dinner on the day. Hobbes had sounded so thrilled to hear Tommy asking for the time off that he'd approved it without even looking at the shift.

"I'm just warning you in advance. The grovelling process is gonna involve eating your weight in loaves, most likely."

And that's that, apparently. No heavy handed warnings, no suspicion about why Tommy hasn't fucked off yet. Like it's some foregone conclusion that Tommy's not gonna panic and bolt a second time. Nothing has changed, yet Tommy gets the feeling they're all expecting some tearful reunion and a return to TommyandBuck.

Tommy slips the tea into Maddie's hands and watches her sniff it in distaste, which is an interesting nugget he'll have to revisit later if -

If.

There's no guarantees, here. That Tommy will be able to articulate how fucking terrified he is, that Evan will understand it. That the two of them will find a way through it together. All he has to go on is a solo hike on a day Evan should have been with family, an apparent bakery full of feelings spread between the 118, and the quiet calm that had washed over him when Eddie prompted him to make a decision.

Feet to the fire, he'd stayed.

---

Maddie's pregnant. It hits him between the eyes right around hour three of sit-and-wait. He's not an idiot, or a fool, and he hasn't spoken to any of these people in weeks so he's not going to announce it to the world, but somewhere in between the sporadic naps on Tommy's shoulder and the way she is attempting (failing) to power through her now cold tea makes him think. She and Bobby had driven here, and it's clear everyone else had been indulging. Maddie's no lush, but he's seen her knock back half a bottle of wine before when she's got nowhere to be.

She excuses herself to the bathroom for a third time, looking a little green, and Tommy ends up locked in a staring contest with Howie that only ends when Tommy mimes zipping his lips.

He still hasn't gotten the story about Eddie and why he's not here.

Bobby and Athena are apparently closing in on a new house.

Howie is less than a year away from having a second kid.

Athena's kids are apparently at Howie and Maddie's, attempting to keep Mara and Jee from destroying the house in the absence of adults.

And Tommy wants.

Wanting has never really been the problem, though. Wanting is the easy part. Wanting doesn't get him over the hurdle of knowing he's not enough. For Evan, for this family he's built that just keeps growing bigger and bigger. It'd been a relief, those first few days after, not to have to wonder which member of the 118 would land in the hospital next, not to have to rearrange something else on his schedule because Evan was convinced he was cursed, or Eddie'd had another shitty call with Christopher.

The relief hadn't lasted. A week in, he'd stayed up all night demolishing the half-bath off his dining room, because he'd been putting it off for months and he'd nearly texted Evan something that was startlingly revealing and left him exposed on all sides. Two weeks in he'd finished grouting the backsplash in his kitchen. And in between, he wondered how Eddie was doing, if he'd made any progress with his son. He'd wondered if Maddie enjoyed the bottle of wine they'd brought back from a spur of the moment trip to Napa. He'd wondered how Nash was doing, if he was readjusting to having his crew and his station back. He wondered how Hen and Karen were, how many things Denny had already gotten stuck in his cast trying to ease an itch.

He'd wondered, and he'd sat in it, and then he'd rewired the shoddy work an electrician had done in his spare room that he kept telling himself he'd get around to.

The wanting never goes away. He just finds new places to put it when he starts to care too much.

"Kinard and Buckley?"

Maddie's still in the restroom. Tommy - has no fucking clue why the nurse is staring at them like they'll just materialize the right people. She sucks in her lips and gives him a dead eyed stare before her eyes dart to his chest. More specifically, the nameplate on his chest.

Tommy blinks.

---

The having is where he's always floundered. Things are temporary. People are temporary. He's always been borrowing. Borrowing time, attention, affection.

For a few months there, he'd really started to think he could handle the having. That he'd get to keep it.

---

"I'm Buckley, he's Kinard," Maddie says from somewhere over his left shoulder, and he turns in time to see her adjusting her jacket, wiping at her lip. She stabilizes, looking unfazed, and stands tall. As tall as she can, at least. "You have news about my brother?"

The nurse glances around the room. No one is bothering to pretend not to be listening. Maddie hovers a wave behind her.

"Ignore the audience, we're all waiting with bated breath to see how obnoxious my brothers going to be. It depends entirely on whether or not he gets pie tonight."

She gives them all a disapproving look. This must not be one of their normal nurses.

Christ. They have normal nurses.

"Well, no pie tonight, but he should be able to eat a sandwich in the morning."

He's fine. He's fine.

Tommy knew going in that most of his injuries were superficial. The ribs had been a concern but with the pain meds and the collar he hadn't really had a chance to exacerbate those injuries. There's no reason he should feel quite so relieved to know that Evan will have a few annoying splints to work around and he'll probably need to rehab his ankle for a couple weeks once it's healed. The concussion isn't ideal, and he'll need help for a few days, but he's fine.

Tommy can feel the tears building.

"He'll likely be out for a few more hours, but I'll let you know when he's set up in a room. Two visitors at a time," she warns. "The concussion will effect his response time. Don't be surprised if he doesn't remember much, loses his train of thought."

Hen shifts somewhere behind him. It feels a bit like she's being held back from correcting the nurse about the normal side effects.

Things move on around him. The nurse leaves, Hen passes a Stanley cup around that definitely isn't filled with water, the normal sigh of relief is released while Maddie drops into the seat next to him with a groan, the team has a strange competition around him to battle for visitor position.

Tommy breathes.

I should go, Tommy thinks to himself, as half the people in the room raise their phones.

His own phone vibrates against his thigh.

A message from Howie, time stamped two minutes - Tommy squints to make sure - two minutes ago, an update on Evan. Another from Eddie reminding them all to give Buck a patent Eddie look from him while they were giving him shit. A selfie of Eddie, with Christopher somewhat reluctantly bending into the picture over his shoulder.

In another thread, he's got three messages from Eddie.

If I have to remove you from this group I'm sending my kid after you with his crutches.

You guys hiked Griffith Park for your Not-A-One-Month-Anniversary-We-Swear date, right?

Send Buck my love. Not like that, though.

Tommy sends back: When the fuck did he add me to his emergency contacts? and then decides he doesn't want to know anyway so he turns off his phone.

---

Maddie goes alone, and Tommy spends the time alternating between tapping his foot against the tile to distraction, and clamping his hand over his knee in an attempt to stop the tapping.

Bobby and Athena go next, then Hen and Karen. Then they're pulling on jackets and promising to save a plate for Buck.

Howie slips away for a few minutes and then returns, looking amused. "You think everyone else got the same greeting?" he asks his wife, who grins tiredly at him, pats his wrist. Her gaze turns to Tommy.

"Should we stay?"

That's a trap of a question. That's an assumption Tommy doesn't have a clue how to handle. He clears his throat. Shakes a few curls loose.

"What makes you think he'd want me to?"

Maddie's perfected the unimpressed eyebrow. It must be a parent thing.

Tommy barely holds in the sigh. "Go enjoy your meal."

---

Evan's been watching the door. It's clear the moment Tommy makes it to the threshold - he presses up, winces, tips sideways just enough to peek around the corner.

"Tommy," he says, and his expression melts.

Tommy's heard some iteration of that name a million times. Tom, from his dad. Tommy, fond and quiet from his mother, who'd never really learned how to speak up before she was gone. Thomas, in school, from teachers annoyed that he wouldn't just apply himself.

He was Kinard, to teammates, then fellow soldiers, to the firefighters he'd worked alongside for a decade before he ever let any of them know him.

No one says his name with quite so much reverence as Evan Buckley. He's convinced himself, over the last few weeks, that he'd been hearing adulation in that tone. But now it just sounds...relieved. Happy.

Evan slumps back and tries to cross his arms in a pout. There are too many cords and wires attached to him for it to work. "I'm pretty sure I'm mad at you," he says, and Tommy steps over the threshold.

---

Hobbes sounds fucking thrilled to find out he's going to be down a pilot for five days.

Evan throws a fit when he finds out Tommy's plan is to sleep on his own couch for the short duration of Evan's stay. Evan wins the proceeding argument and doesn't even complain that Tommy hadn't argued too hard

Bobby brings over enough leftovers to keep them in turkey sandwiches for a week, and Tommy doesn't think to ask how he got Tommy's address.

Tommy breathes. Tommy thinks. Once Evan can hold a train of thought for more than five minutes, Tommy talks.

Evan listens.

---

"So no Christmas," Evan pouts, and Tommy wants to bite it. "And no New Year's."

Tommy shifts a hand over his shoulder, tucks his chin over top of it so he can't see the pout anymore. "We were both already working those anyway."

"Do people do anything to celebrate Presidents Day?"

"Evan."

"Tommy," Evan mocks, and pulls far enough away to catch his gaze. "In the interest of transparency that was mostly a cover so I didn't ask about Valentine's Day."

"Is this you not asking about Valentine's Day?"

His smile is deceptively sweet. "I need help with my sandwich."

Tommy's seen him balancing a glass of water, his phone, two books and a takeout bag in his one good hand. He's absolutely full of shit.

Tommy leans forward to grab the sandwich off Evan's plate for him.

---

"You should stay," Tommy says, an hour after midnight two days into the new year. He's tipsy on his second glass of cheap champagne and he can't think of a reason to keep this in, anymore. Evan crinkles a brow at him.

"I... wasn't planning to go?"

There's a gold crown perched in his curls, and Tommy still hasn't taken the cheap plastic 2025 glasses off. The house is quiet, and there'd been shockingly few fires started by fireworks this year, so he's less tired than he'd expected to be.

"I meant -." Tommy starts, and then pauses. "I meant permanently. You should live here."

Evan laughs. Takes a bite out of his cake, and rolls his eyes, and then...stops. His entire body stills. "What."

It's ridiculous. The very thing that had pushed Tommy up out of his seat just a few months ago, sent him out the loft door with wet eyes and a heaviness in his heart.

"Tommy," Evan prompts, and Tommy catches the hand frozen on the countertop. He'd planned to hold this back, wait until something significant or poignant. But Evan had baked them a red velvet cake and argued with him the entire drive back from dinner about the proper way to fold a towel, and Tommy's tired of denying this isn't everything he's refused to let himself want for decades.

"You don't have to say yes just to confirm you're not breaking up with me," he tries to joke, and it falls flat.

"Tommy," Evan murmurs, quieter but more insistent.

"I'm serious. I want you here. I want -."

"Yes," Evan says, and squeezes his hand before he ducks his head bashfully. "Sorry. Continue."

"I want a life with you." The tears tickle at the back of his throat. He's gonna fucking cry, again. He'd always fucking known opening himself up to this was just an invitation for more tears in his life.

He can't quite convince himself the rest doesn't make them worth it.

"Yes. Again. Tommy, of course." He tips his chin. Purses his lips. "If you're sure."

Tommy swallows down the lump in his throat. He's never been more sure or more terrified of anything in his life. So he tells him so.

The words are like knives, but he works his way through the soreness, fights up past the fear that he's not sure will ever completely go away, and claws past the reminder that it's been a blink of an eye since Tommy walked out on this.

"Well. You can't walk out of your own house," Evan points out when he's finished, and of all things, it's that that snaps the tension of for once in his life prioritizing something other than fucking survival. He tips a grin, curls his elbow to bring their entwined hands to his lips. "It's gonna take years to coordinate another Thanksgiving with everyone," he bemoans, looking suspiciously watery-eyed himself as he holds Tommy's own wet gaze.

Tommy can extrapolate from that.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #happy Thanksgiving #pls feel free to piss off your relatives at the dinner table this afternoon!#tommy and buck would approve!

469 notes · View notes

letorip · 6 months ago

Text

kiss with a fist [iii]

"your slaps don't stick, your kicks don't hit, so we remain the same"

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: you can't help but feel like maybe you and tara are more than frenemies, and it culminates in a night where you finally share some truths with each other.

warnings: a somewhat traumatic dream sequence lmao, mentions of sex, kissing (almost), curse words, blood

word count: 5.8k

A/N: hope y'all like this one because i definitely liked writing it. definitely a whole lot more kissing than fisting.... wait a minute....

it's 5 am, my ass is grass. anyways, part 4 relatively soon because woo wee theres still so much to explore in this story i legitimately cant believe my idiot self said it'd be done in 2 parts originally

===+++===

"(Y/n)," a voice calls to you, sing-song and sweet as your eyes fade to darkness. It's a gentle woman's whisper, but it manages to hit you like a truck, pulling you down from wherever you came from, and plopping you wherever you've arrived. Or, rather, wherever you've always been. "(Y/n), look, darlin'."

A gust of wind gently strokes over the plane of your cheek, and when you open your eyes, all you can see is rye. On one end, it reaches out towards a sharp cliff, overlooking a lake, with nothing but rocks and the water below. On the other, it runs far up the plains of land in front of you, stopping in front of the white house you know all too well, with its rickety porch and broken tire swing.

You take a few steps forward, as if ready to run right inside, and then before you know it, you're running. Like the world is about to end, like the house is burning down, like you'll never see the place ever again. Foot after foot, you dash towards it, hearing Alisha's piano flit through the front window for the first time in years, and the smell of a pie right along with it. "(Y/n)!" the voice calls again. "Dinner time, kid!"—

But your foot catches on a root, just like it did in your memory, and in an instant, you've fallen down into the rye, with a painful thud, right on your face. You let out a grunt, feeling the dirt on your new, white shirt. The one your mother never let you wear when you were playing outside.

And when you right yourself again, sitting up out of the field, the house isn't any closer than it was before. It sits, perfectly far away, only all that stuff is gone now, and the house looks about as dark as it did the day of Mitchie's funeral.

"(Y/n)!" an excited voice calls from behind you. "Wanna play tag?"

"(Y/n)'s too old for that, Mitchie," another voice chides, and you whip around like Calvin would actually be there to chide him like that. Like he used to. But he isn't. All you can see is the rye. It stands in thick stalks, reaching up to your knees in lush groupings, tall and abundant, strong and growing.

Another voice. "Read me a story?" It's soft and it's a little girl's and it's far away, and you get to your feet and spin in a circle, waiting for her to appear. It seemed to reverberate through your ears, washing through the pathways of your brain before seeping into your heart. It fills it up, and before you know it, you can feel yourself hastily searching for her.

"'Randa?" you called into the open field. "Miranda? You there?" but she continues on like she didn't hear you.

"Would you read me a story? Please?"

"I will Miranda, but where are you?" you called back, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the barrel of the hot sun.

"I'm gone, (Y/n). You're supposed to be gone too," she says back, with a sweet giggle. "Why aren't you gone with us?"

"I—" you stammer, whipping your head around the field in search of your siblings. "I don't—"

"Do you really think that's fair, (Y/n)?" Calvin asks.

"Why aren't you here, (Y/n)?" Miranda asks again, this time her voice wavering like she was about to cry. "Why aren't you in the rye with us?" Your hands came up to your head, trying to squeeze your eyes shut and block out the noises, but they seemed to reverberate into your skull.

"Mitchie was your fault, you know," Peter chides. "We would've never let that—"

"—Why did you get to stay, (Y/n)?" Came Tomas' voice. "We're supposed to be cursed, and you're supposed to be cursed too." He was always the quiet one, but now his voice had a sharp edge to it. One of jealousy. One of anger.

"Why didn't you catch me?" Mitchie asked. "If you just would've caught me..."

"Come play piano with me, I'll teach you," said Alisha, in her light, airy laugh.

"Why did it get to be you?" snarled Calvin. "And why are you getting closer to Tara? You want to curse her, too?"

"Stop—" you stammered, squeezing your eyes shut tighter.

"Wanna play hopscotch?" said Mitchie.

"Do you miss us, (Y/n)?" Alisha said, in between tears.

"Yes, of course— I—" you tried, but now the voices were filling up your head, threatening to spill over and knocking you to the ground. You curled up into a ball as your brain filled up. Words piling up on top of words, piling up on top of words, about to split you open. "STOP!" you yelled.

And everything went silent. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself still in the field, but your siblings' voices had gone entirely. Now it was just you, in the field, alone with the rustling of the wind and the rye, as it grazed gently against your legs. You hadn't remembered standing up, but you were now.

In a flash, you could see a shape, running through the rye in a line that was very visible from where you were. You recognised the dark hair, and the yellow jacket he always wore. With the realisation came the looming dread, and you realised with very little time left what this exactly was a memory of.

You took off running, faster than you had to the house, faster than you had ever run, and faster than you had run then, chasing after him as he took off towards the cliff-end of your rye field. "Mitchie!" you yelled, trying to be louder than the buzzing cicadas, but it seemed the moment you yelled, the cicadas got even louder. He was too short to see over the stalks, but you could see him go, running in odd shapes as he got nearer and nearer to the cliffs edge.

"Catch me if you can, (Y/n)!" he called back with a gleeful laugh.

"(Y/n), grab your brother," called your mother. She didn't seem too worried, and she hadn't been, then. No one had been, until it was too late.

"Mitchie! Stop!" you cried out, feeling tears already beginning to fall down your cheeks. "Mitchie!" you tried again.

"Come on, you've gotta be faster than that if you're gonna be it!” Mitchie called back. "Catch me! Get me! C'mon! I'm gonna make it hard for you to win, Duck."

"MITCHIE! PLEASE!" you screamed, but all he did was giggle. “STOP! DON’T GO!” But the moment you reached the end of the rye, he was gone over the edge, just he had been when you were 13, and there was an arm shaking you awake.

===+++===

"Oh my god, you're about the least peaceful sleeper I've literally ever seen," Tara laughed, grinning at you from over her textbook. She had it pulled into her lap from her side of the table and titled against the table edge, and spread out in front of you were her papers galore, with notes scribbled all over them in preparation for her upcoming exam.

Mindy sat next to her, playing a stupid game on her phone, while Ethan was also studying in his own textbook. He had stopped trying to avoid you as much, as had Chad. You and Tara "dating" seemed to offend them less and less the longer it went on.

"Uh," you mumbled, still feeling a little bit disoriented from the dream. It was like a dose of adrenaline had been shot directly into your heart, and you struggled to adjust to the calm, peaceful library that actually was around you. "Shut up," you grumbled, but not like you were actually upset by her teasing.

Tara watched you with her eyebrows raised. "You look tired."

You sat up in your chair, running a hand through your hair. There was a small layer of sweat on your forehead. "Aren't you never supposed to say that to someone? Pretty sure that's how you get someone at the bar to throw their drink in your face."

"It is," Ethan nodded. "I made that mistake once. I was trying to be sweet."

"Good thing I'm not seducing you, then," Tara shrugged. "You've seen me puke everywhere. Pretty sure that ruined my chances right-out, and yet you love me anyways."

You grinned, leaning back to stretch out your arms. It was meant to be a gentle teasing from Tara, but you had only gotten better and better at deflecting the longer you were around her. "You'd be surprised, actually. That was super pretty. That was the prettiest you've ever been." Mindy snorted next to Tara.

Tara glared at you, unappreciatively. "And you're pretty when you do not speak."

"I'm pretty all the time, Tara," you mockingly shook your head. "And you think I'm joking. Find yourself a girl who looks nice covered in sweat, with her hair going everywhere, and puking in the toilet. That's my girlfriend."

"You're such a dick," Tara scoffed, but you could tell part of her was stifling a laugh. It was funny to her too, and you both had laughed at it together for days, afterwards.

If anything, it had gotten easier and easier, to act like the both of you were actually dating. You weren't too sure why, maybe Tara had become less annoying, or you had become less annoyed by her, but you had definitely at least become a better actor. That's what it was, after all. "Oh, also," she continued.

"Yeah?"

"Someone tried to call your phone, while you were sleeping. I think it was your dad."

You frowned. "You didn't pick up, right?"

"No," Tara said, shaking her head. Then she paused. She dropped her voice to speak just to you, guarding the conversation from Mindy and Ethan. "Do you and him not get along?"

You shrugged. "Eh. He was probably just checking in. We have a fine relationship." It wasn't true but it was an easy lie, that rolled off the tongue like nothing. He had already called twice, that day, and you knew why.

"Seriously, though," she said with a frown, looking up from her book. "You look fucking horrifying—"

"—Thanks," you said, flatly.

"—I mean, even more than normal, it's crazy—"

"—Thanks," you repeated.

"—Have you not been sleeping, or something?"

You shrugged. "I mean, I'm an architecture major, and it's midterms... so not really."

"Hm."

"What?" you asked, propping your head up on your arm. "What's the 'hm' for?"

She shrugged, trying to turn back to her textbook. "Hm, nothing."

You furrowed your eyebrows down at her. "Well, obviously the 'hm' was something, Tara." Mindy shot you a look again.

"Or it was just a hm."

“Would you two shush,” she said to you, rolling her eyes. “You bicker like an old married couple.” But you both ignored her.

"It's never just a 'hm.'"

"I say hm all the time. It's literally just a hm."

"No, it means you've got something to say but don't want to say it."

She frowned at the accusation but was obviously even more displeased that you were correct. "I was gonna suggest we go to the OBK party tonight, but maybe you should just go home and sleep. I was trying to be nice.”

You shrugged. "I won't be doing either, actually." Tonight was not the night for parties. You were somewhat grateful, that you had a legitimate excuse to busy your time, or else you would've spent even longer thinking about the dream. "I have to do homework. My final is due tomorrow."

Tara furrowed her eyebrows at you. "Wait, but I thought classes ended today."

You shook your head. "Nope. I've still got some stuff do."

"Oh," Tara frowned.

"Not all of us can have easy majors," you teased, trying to lighten the mood away from what was clearly concern.

"Hey! You chose the stupid thing," Tara shot back. "Not my fault I chose something fun." She stood up, gathering her things into a neat stack. The time was nearing for her midterm exam, and you stood up with her, grabbing her textbook to be helpful.

"Thanks," she said, then she wandered over and held out her hand. You grabbed it in yours, lacing your fingers together, just like you had practiced together.

The library was a tall building on the far side of campus from where you lived. It was a trek and a half to get there, which is partially why you had been a little annoyed, when Tara said she needed to go there. It ended up being the perfect place to fall asleep in, with the quiet signs and only a few murmurs now and again, and though it had been a less than peaceful dream, it was more than you had been getting for the past few days.

"I don't see why you can't just go without me," you shrugged, adjusting her book in your hands. "Just tell Sam I'll meet you there. Besides, Chad and Mindy are going to the same party, right?"

"Yeah, but I what if they realise you're not actually there and mention it to Sam, or something? And, I'd have to go there alone, since Chad and Mindy are going early."

"They are?"

"Yeah. Helping with set up. Mindy literally just mentioned that. Shows how much you listen to her.” She shook her head in a mocking disappointment in you.

“I was asleep, jerk.”

“I know,” she said, grinning.

You looked down to her, where she walked next to you, gently swinging your joint hands back and forth. "It's not a far walk to OBK. You could probably make it there in five minutes. It's well-lit, and—"

Tara frowned, shaking her head adamantly. "Not alone. Not without you, no way. Sam would want to see you at the door to pick me up. She'd probably hate the idea of it."

"Fair enough," you shrugged. "Find a movie at home tonight, then. Relax, or something. I'd kill to be done with this stupid project."

"What are you even making?" Tara groaned, breaking your hands to shove hers into her pockets. Actually, it was your jacket, and therefore technically your pockets too, but she had taken a liking to it, after your date. You had been less than pleased, when she asked to borrow it, considering how much the jacket meant to you, but she insisted it was assisting her to keep up the act. You figured you could part with it, at least for a little while.

"Architecture," you said with a thick layer of sarcasm. Tara rolled her eyes at you. She nudged you, and you couldn't help but laugh as her elbow pointed into your side.

"Oh, you think you're funny, huh?"

"I'm hilarious."

"You wish..." she scoffed, shaking her head.

It was a beautiful day in autumn, and the weather was soon to leave the sigh of brown leaves and rainy days and move into whispery winds and icy pavement. You didn't mind winter, but you didn't like the chills, even though it was undoubtedly what gave summer's warmth a certain sweetness. Still, nothing burned like the cold.

You walked her all the way to the door of the exam hall, stopping out front to hand her the textbook you had been carrying. You went to speak, but the moment you tried to open your mouth, your phone started ringing. You grabbed it from your pocket, sighing and declining the call, while Tara stared at you.

"Is that your dad, again?"

"No," you said. "Telemarketer."

"Right..." she said, frowning. "You're a terrible liar."

"Am I?" you challenged. You were, it was true.

"Why don't you want to talk to him?"

“I just don’t.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m asking why, (Y/n).”

"Why don't you leave it alone?" you shot, in frustration. You could see Tara's eyes narrow at your tone, and you felt a bit bad. There was the occasional reflex still, to bite each other's heads off. You weren't sure what it was about her, but something about Tara Carpenter always seemed to rile you up inside, and do the same for her with you.

"Sorry," you said, looking down at your shoes. "I just don't want to talk about it."

"That doesn't mean you have to be an asshole," Tara glared.

"Right... I'm... sorry."

Tara sighed. "I guess I'll see you next week?" She asked.

You nodded. "There'll be plenty of time after this, I just need to get this thing done."

"Okay," she nodded, failing to hide her excitement. Tara seemed to really love parties, the more and more she went to, and you were somewhat glad you could help her find something she enjoyed. It was nice to see, not that you'd ever say that to her. Doing that would absolutely result in her teasing you again, or something even more annoying.

"Good luck on your test," you said.

"Good luck on your project, babe," she said, drawing the name out.

“Now who’s hilarious,” you said with an eye roll. Tara winked at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Me.”

===+++===

It seemed you were having no good luck on it whatsoever, actually. Laid out in front of you was all of your materials, in a messy pile of cut-out pieces and foam boards that were there, sure, but not likely to just jump together and put itself together on its own.

The clock had already ticked away to 12:33 in the morning, and your design was barely finalised to where you could get to work and finish quickly. All of the other students had left at a much more reasonable hour, and it left you standing at your table alone, quietly working to classical music in the empty modelling lab.

At this rate, you could be here for another two or three hours, and the project was due at eight. You were sluggish, slowly working through the plans you had set out days ago and working through the kinks.

Every few minutes, when you stopped for even a second, the dream seemed to rush back to the forefront of your brain. Your mother had been the one to call, that evening while you were eating a poor excuse of a dinner, and you had declined that call just like you had declined all the rest.

You were hunched over your work, probably unhealthily so, with your face buried in your iPad, hastily throwing out sketches of the various shapes. You were settling on a design that would have to do, heading for the woodcutter, when you heard a noise.

It resembled a door shutting, and you froze right where you were. "Greg?" you called out. There was no one else in the building except for you and Greg, at his usual security post, and you waited with bated breath for him to return your call.

But there was no response, and all you could hear was the sounds of classical music gently floating in the background. Usually, it set you at ease while you worked through whatever you were doing in the lab, but now all it did was raise your heart rate to match the increasing tempo. It was completely dark, except for the overhead light above you, which illuminated the table you were working at and a few of the stainless steel cabinets that held tools and supplies.

Then, off to the side, you heard a rolling. An odd, wooden rolling, slowly drifting towards you. On the ground was a pencil, gently pushed towards you, playfully rolling as if perfectly in front of your toes. You hopped to your feet. "Hello?" you called, squinting in the dim light, in case anyone else was there. "Is anyone there?" you called out again. "Greg?"

Now you could really feel the thumping of your heart. The modelling lab had always been creepy late at night, but this was a new level of unease. It was as if someone was watching you, playing with their food, and you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "Is someone there?" you said to the rest of the room.

"Hey!" said a voice, and you jumped what felt like five feet into the air.

"Fuck!" you shouted, spinning around and seeing Tara behind you. She jumped at your reaction, raising her hands up. In one of them was a tray with two coffees on it. “You scared me!”

"Woah, woah, are you okay?" she asked, face etched with concern. She walked towards you slowly, and you put your hands on the edge of the table, trying to calm yourself.

"Don't just sneak up on me like that, dude," you glared at her.

"I literally didn't, I fucking announced myself, loud as can be," Tara said, rolling her eyes at you. Then, it melded into concern. "How long have you been here?" she asked, looking around the place and its emptiness.

"Since I left you at your test," you shrugged. "How'd it go by the way?" Tara's eyebrows furrowed, ignoring your question instead for one of her own.

"Did you at least eat dinner, or something?"

"Yeah," you nodded.

"Good."

“Yeah…,” you trailed off, turning back to your work. “How did you know where I was?"

“I asked Chad. He’s still a little snippy with me about, well, thinking we're together. Tried to tell me that if anyone would know, it would be me, and I said, yeah, that’s true, but it’s only been three months, now.”

“Well,” you said, gesturing around to the lab. “This is the modelling lab.” You were a bit of a nerd about the whole place, showing it off like it was your cool superhero lair.

“I know,” Tara mocked. “I saw it on the giant sign above the front door.”

“Ha ha. Does Sam know that you’re here?” You asked, grabbing your pen and resuming your work while you continued to talk to Tara. She plopped herself down on the edge of the table, letting her feet swing.

She looked a bit sheepish at the question. “Uh… no.”

“You know she’ll kill me like she did that one time, if you’re not home when she wakes up,” you frowned, wandering over to the supplies and grabbing out a box cutter to help trim the pieces you needed.

Tara nodded. “I know. But I snuck out, so I’ll sneak back in.”

You turned back around to reply, maybe say something stupid, but you had to stop yourself from laughing, when you saw her legs hanging off the counter and not reaching the ground.

“What?” Tara asked, furrowing her eyebrows. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head and returning to the table. “…Dwarf.”

“Hey!” she said, smacking you on the arm. “I brought you coffee, don’t make me take it back.”

“That’s true,” you frowned, weighing your options. “Guess I can’t make fun of you; you brought me caffeine.”

“That’s more like it."

You worked in silence for a few minutes, feeling Tara watch your every movement. It was harder to work, under her scrutiny, but you were grateful that she was there. It wasn’t lonely in there, any more. A few months ago, you would’ve hated her guts for sitting around while you attempted to work. But not with Tara anymore. Not on that day.

“This might be an all-nighter,” you warned, sending her a small smile as you sliced a piece of foam in half and went to work to attach it to your board.

“Fine with me,” Tara shrugged. She just continued to watch you, in a calm silence. “Actually, I have beef with you,” she hummed.

You laughed, looking up while you secured the base with glue. “Why’s that, Tara?”

“You got that song, stuck in my head.”

“Which one?” You asked.

“The one you sang for me. I found it online.”

“Which one?” you teased, smiling again. Your face was tired and the smile certainly didn’t help, but you couldn’t help the newfound peace washing over you again. You had completely forgotten the weird happening from earlier.

“You know, don’t play dumb.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I really don’t know.”

“You literally do,” Tara scoffed.

“Sing a little bit. Refresh my memory.”

“Nuh uh,” she said, crossing her arms. “This is a trap.”

“It isn’t,” you insisted, sticking your pinky out to her. “Swear.”

She wrapped it in her own, rolling her eyes. She definitely knew it was, but she obliged anyway. “If you need a friend, don’t look to a strangerrr. You know in the end,” her voice broke on the low note like yours did, and you laughed while heat rose to her cheeks. “I’ll always be thereeee.”

“And when you’re in doubt,” you sang back to her, in between laughs. “And when you’re in dangerrr.” You both were tone deaf and the rendition was awful, but the mood in the lab was getting lighter and lighter the longer you were together.

“Take a look all around,” Tara sang, coming back in. “And I’ll be there.”

It was impossible not to laugh at how bad it was on both sides, and you grinned at her toothily, before turning back to your work. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome, idiot,” she teased, nudging you in the side again.

===+++===

You went back to working on your model, finishing the first floor in about an hour. You and Tara occasionally talked now and again, but mostly she just watched you while you worked. “Why are you doing this all tonight?” she asked.

“Uh…” you stuttered. “I didn’t have time the past couple weeks…cause of… well, you.”

She shot up to her feet, mouth dropping open. “Why the hell didn’t you say no to me?! I didn’t know you had all this to do.”

You shrugged. “I never mentioned it. Plus, you were having fun. I’m glad someone was enjoying themselves.”

“Oh…” she said, and it sounded small.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“…Nothing."

“It’s fine, Tar. Seriously.” She blinked at you.

“Tar?” she asked, looking amused.

You looked up from your work, feeling the change in the atmosphere. “What?”

“I don’t know, you’ve just never used the nickname for me, before.”

“Yeah, I guess not. Is it weird?”

“Well… no. I kind of like it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she agreed, nodding a little. “My mom was the one who gave me the nickname Tar. Haven’t spoken to her in a little while, though.”

“Do you still miss her?” you asked, glueing your second story onto the base successfully.

“Sometimes…” she trailed off, staring out at the pitch black night through the window that hung over your workspace. "She calls me once in a while."

"Do you answer?" you asked.

"No," she admitted. "It's usually about Woodsboro. I gave up on her a few months ago, but she still calls sometimes about the town."

"You never talk about it..." you comment, trailing off with a hand on the back of your neck. "You don't have to, if you don't want to." You leaned back against the table with a curiosity, watching her face move as she struggled to answer.

"Well... it's cause I don't want to that I don't talk about it. You know how people say that shit about manifesting happiness?" you nodded, knowing what she was talking about. "Well, I keep saying I'm fine, and I'm moving on, but it just keeps following me everywhere. It's like this chronic cough I can't shake. This constant thing. No matter how much I run, it's always there. People don't see me as anything but one of the survivors."

You swallowed, feeling her words hit you. "I know what you mean." Tara's eyes snapped down to yours, but when you didn't volunteer more information, she sighed.

You frowned, turning yourself back to your work and hunching over, so she wouldn’t see the heat rising to your cheeks. “I, uh… I listened to that song you said you liked, too.”

“You did?” she asked, lighting up at the mention of it.

“Yeah… added it to my playlist… so…”

“So…” Tara laughed, amused by your awkwardness. It was somehow less awkward when you hated each other. The fact you could tolerate each other now was unusual but not unpleasant, and you still found yourself grappling with how pretty Tara’s eyes looked in lamplight. "If I get a nickname, you absolutely have to have one too."

You scoffed. "That's not at all what that means."

"You had to have had one at some point."

"No, I haven't had one," you said.

"Liar!" Tara said with a giggle, pointing at you with her finger. "You're so bad at lying it's remarkable. Now spill. What is it?"

"I'm not lying!" you insisted, but now you were laughing and it was even less convincing.

"C'mon, promise I won't say it in public— unless it's really bad."

You stared at her for a moment, when she clasped her hands together in a begging plea.

"Please?"

"No," you shook your head.

"Please?"

"Nope."

"Pleaseeee?"

"Fine," you sighed. "My family, they used to call me Duck."

"Duck?" She asked, leaning back to look at you as if the nickname would re-contextualise your entire appearance. "Where'd that come from?"

"It's dumb. I used to wear this yellow raincoat when it was storming outside and these orange booties, so my little brother Mitchie saw me, when he was like five or six, and said I was a Duck. And so I was Duck."

She smiled at you, genuinely pleased with the explanation. "That's adorable. Where is Mitchie, tonight?"

You opened your mouth but shut it. Then, you opened it again. "Probably watching cartoons, or something. Back in Nebraska." (A/N: my ass genuinely did not know that was a U.S. state until right now)

You couldn't tell her that today was the day he had died, several years ago. That a year or two before that had happened, Calvin had gone, and a few months before that, Tomas and Alisha had passed too. That Peter had gotten sick, or that Miranda had gone missing before any of that mess had happened. That you were the only one left.

It was a bad lie, and probably one you would regret later, but it was one you ushered past, and Tara didn't seem to pick up on. From one cursed person to another, you figured it was probably best that you keep your own curse to yourself. It's part of what had made you hate Tara so much at first. She walked around knowing her days were likely numbered, so carefree and careless. And then there was you, you who was so careful in order to keep living.

But you couldn't resent her for that. It had melted away with seeing the Tara underneath. The real, beautiful Tara underneath.

"Duck is good, though. I'll bring it out when I want to embarrass you," Tara smiled, inching closer on the table.

"Yeah?" you grinned back at her, standing up to gently tap against the glue. It was set, and your model was finally finished at 4:42 in the morning. Tara leaned close, watching the glue with her own eyes, cheek almost up against yours in curiosity.

You finished the thing, looking over at her and her large, warm brown eyes, staring at the model you had made with so much curiosity and genuine interest. Tara hadn't lifted a finger to help, but you couldn't help but feel like it was partially hers.

You went to pull back but found your face turning towards hers, looking at each other for a long moment. Your eyes lingered on the slope of her nose, down to the curvature of her soft lips, turned up in the corners like Tara always did when she smiled. They looked so soft, and before you knew what was happening, you could feel Tara's hands coming up to the sides of your face, thumbs gently stroking against the skin there.

You couldn't breathe, feeling the warmth of the pads of her fingers on your face and the faint brush of her breath upon your nose. "Tara," you whispered. The pull was magnetic, and just as you were about to say to hell with it all, her phone began to vibrate in her pocket, and you both leapt apart from each other.

You wandered a few feet away, trying to seem busy while she answered it. You could feel Tara watching you while she spoke on the phone, so you did your best to hide the blush that was certainly spread wide across your cheeks.

This was the very girl you had spent the past several months hating. You suddenly felt dizzy, like the world would slip out from under your feet. Tara, the very same annoying girl who had pestered with you and bickered with you. The one who had so much more to her that what you had ever thought possible. The one who drew you in. The one in search of a hook up, for which you were only the decoy. You cleared your throat, whipping around when you heard Tara say "What?!"

"What's wrong?" you asked. "What's going on?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at you like she was about to cry. "They're questioning Sam again. They think Ghostface is back."

===+++===

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN anyways my ass is going to bed now. also i do not recommend anyone lie to someone they're interested in about who they are, ESPECIALLY an attempted murder victim

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n

838 notes · View notes

rosenclaws · 6 months ago

Text

unworthy || worst!Logan x reader

summary: Even though he's in a new universe his past continues to haunt him in the form of you. You're nothing but nice but Logan can't take it, not after you died by his hands in his own universe.

warnings: reader has she/her pronouns, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, flashbacks of blood and death. Logan gets brainwashed/manipulated in his past, emotionally unavailable Logan.

a/n: I saw that one tiktok prompt and decided to write this! I really like angst and low key might write a smutty part 2 but we will see! I hope you like it thank you!!!

It's another sleepless night for Logan. He's been having a lot of those lately. Wade's couch isn't exactly comfortable either. Everyone here treats him like a hero. Praising him for saving their universe. He scoffs at the idea. He wears the damn costume but he doesn't feel like a hero. Not after what he did.

Logan stands up from the couch, throwing off the blanket and deciding he needs some air. He grabs his jacket and leaves the apartment. The door closes loudly behind him but he can't seem to care. He fidgets with a cigar as he waits for the elevator to bring him to the ground floor.

When the cool outside air hits his face he relaxes. With a finally lit cigar, he walks around aimlessly. The sounds of his past haunt him with every passing second. Sure he may have saved this world but he is far from the hero they think he is.

"Logan? What are you doing?" He closes his eyes as he hears your voice from behind.

He glances over his shoulder to see you wrapped up in a blanket, a tired look on your face. It's early, the sun isn't even up yet and you're clearly exhausted. Yet here you are, out in the cold for him. He grunts in response, turning back around. He hears you sigh and it makes his stomach turn. He waits for you to turn around and go back inside but you don't. To his frustration you stay, you can't seem to take the damn hint.

You never have, he's tried to stay away from you. Ignore you. But you're so persistent. Stubborn. It doesn't matter how little he speaks to you or even looks at you, you don't give up. How he wishes you would. How he wishes you could understand that he needs you to stay far away from him. That just looking at you hurts. Hearing your voice is even worse. And being next to you is a knife through his heart.

It's not fair that you're here, haunting him in this universe as you did in his own. Though he thinks it might just be his punishment for everything he's done. How cruel.

"Go back to bed." He grumbles, his voice is slightly muffled by the cigar in his mouth.

"No." You say simply. Staying right next to him, looking up at the sky as the sun starts to peek out. He stares at you in disbelief. Wordlessly he stomps out his cigar and turns to leave.

"Logan, wait!" You call after him and he clenches his jaw. Why do you have to follow him? Why are you chasing him? His hurt builds until all he can feel is white hot rage.

"For fucks sake! Can't you just fuck off?" His growls. "I am sick and tired of seeing you everywhere I fucking go! So please, just take the fucking hint and leave. Me. Alone." Venom dripping with every word. He watches you shrink under his angry gaze.

Words dying on your lips as you tighten the blanket around yourself. His chest heaves as his anger starts to dissipate. He watches your eyes grow glassy and your lip quiver ever so slightly.

"I..I'm sorry." You mumble out an apology before running past him. Guilt creeps up inside of him but he doesn't let it show. It's better this way. That's what he repeats over and over. Trying to convince himself it's true.

You don't understand what you've done to piss off Logan this much. To make him hate you the way he does. All you wanted was to befriend him, to help him. That's what you did with your Logan. His first friend in the X mansion all those years ago. Sure your Logan was just as untrusting and gruff at first but he learned to accept his family. He changed. Maybe it's your fault for thinking it would be the same. He's not your Logan. You have to remind yourself of that.

He looks just like him though. Talks like him, even smells like him. Your Logan yelled and had his moments but he always came back, pulling you tight and apologizing. But the anger in his eyes is something you'll never forget. He's not your Logan and he never will be. After that night you make a point to stay out of his way. Refusing Wade's dinner invitations and waiting until odd hours to leave your apartment, not wanting to even risk seeing him out in the hallways.

Eventually you ran out of excuses that Wade would accept and you were dragged back to his apartment for Mary Puppins' birthday party. At least the apartment was busy. You awkwardly stand in the corner of the room as they sing Happy Birthday. Logan and Wade are surrounded by everyone with Mary Puppins in Wade's arms. A little birthday hat on her head and somehow Wade got on on Logan's head.

As Wade gives a long, heartfelt speech about Mary and you grimace as she licks his face. Logan lets out a noise of disgust as stares at the two of them. You let out a little laugh, thinking you were being quiet enough but Logan's eyes snap to you. Nerves creeps over you as he refuses to look away. Without another word you set you cup down and leave.

Logan wanted space, so that's what you're giving him.

Logan watches you leave, a pang in his chest as he watches the joy fade from your face.

"God it's like watching a wet cat stare into the window of a loving home." Wade shakes his head disappointingly.

"Shut up." Logan growls.

"Hey don't get mad at me. I'm not the one who lashed out due to my inability to process my emotions." Logan raises his fist and unsheathes his claws.

Deep down he knows Wade is right, but he'll never admit it. Instead he puts his claws away and rips off the party hat. He weaves through the party guests to get to the door.

"Go get her Crocodile Dundee!" Wade shouts but Logan ignores him.

He knocks on your door but you don't answer. His heart begins to sink as he realizes that maybe he's pushed you too far. All he has to blame is himself. He's hurt you yet again. A part of him tells him to turn and leave. Just give up and accept his fate. But He waits and waits.

There's a small part of him keeping him rooted to the spot outside of your door, telling him that this time he can make it right. People trickle out of his apartment but he pays them no attention. Hours pass and still no sign of you. Still he remains determined. He closes his eyes and leans back. Ready to wait as long as it takes.

The morning after Wade's party sucks. You feel like shit, physically and mentally. You barely got enough sleep last night with your mind running all night. Sighing you decide the only thing that can salvage your morning is a donut. Though when you go to open your door, you're met with a very heavy resistance.

"What the?" You mumble as you push hard against the door. You hear someone swear before shuffling on the other side. When you can finally open your door all the way you see Logan standing in front of you. Was he out here all night?

"What do you want?" You ask tiredly. You're really not in the mood to deal with him right now.

"I..." Logan doesn't know where to start. How to even begin to apologize. Sighing you close your door but Logan sticks his arm out.

"Wait! Please, just, I need to say some things. You don't have to forgive me but I need to say them." Silently you open your door and let him in. He watches nervously as you make your way to your couch.

"You're dead in my world." He winces at his own bluntness.

"And I killed you." Logan paces back and forth as he tries to piece together his nightmares.

"It was supposed to be a simple mission. Recon. I don't even go on those kinds of missions but I didn't want you going alone." He squeezes his eyes shut as he remembers.

"Logan!" You scold lightly.

"Keep your hands to yourself." He smirks as he walks you up against the walls of the jet.

"You don't normally complain about where my hands go." Rolling your eyes playfully, you place a kiss on his cheek.

"Just wait till after the mission okay?" He winks and pulls you in for a kiss.

"Fine, but after this I get you all to myself."

"We walked in and everything went wrong."

Something was wrong and he knew it. Still you insisted on finishing your mission. The moment you stepped through the door he wanted to take you and run. He should have. But he acted too late. The things he saw, A wall separating the two of you. Hearing your screams for help as he couldn't get to you.

"Well well, aren't you an interesting one." He looks around for the voice but all he can see is darkness. His claws swipe at the wall as he hears your voice pleading for his help. Suddenly the wall lifted and all he could see was someone with a gun to your head. He doesn't hesitate to jump into action. Fighting with everything he's got.

"Logan!" Your scream sounds far away as he shoves his claws deep into the man's stomach.

To his confusion the world begins to melt around him. To his horror he sees you standing in front of him. Cuts and bruises on your face, not caused by the enemies, but by him.

"It's okay," You whisper. Your hands shake as you try to reach out for his face. He doesn't want to look down, knowing that if he does, he'll see his claws deep in your stomach. Slowly your body sinks to the ground. His claws retract and you cry as they leave your body. He wraps his arms around you as you grow weak in his arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He repeats over and over again. His hands press on your stomach and you groan in pain. There's too much blood but he doesn't care. He can fix this, he can save you.

"Logan, It's okay my love." You brush his face with your bloody hand.

"No! I can fix this! We just have to get you home yeah?" He tries to move you but you scream in pain. It's too late, you've accepted it but he can't seem to.

"Come on sweetheart, please." He pleads desperately as he brings your body closer to him.

"Please, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," It's getting harder to breathe but strangely you're completely at peace. Logan doesn't understand how you can be.

"I'm sorry, I love you." He doesn't let go of you, repeating that like a mantra as you die in his arms.

"I killed you, I let whatever fucking asshole inside of my head and I killed you." He stops pacing and finally looks at you.

He blinks and it's like he's back in his nightmare. Blood on your face, a pitiful look on your face as you try and comfort him in your last moments. It makes him sick.

"I saw you everywhere I went, I let it ruin me. I became the monster you said I could never be." You reach out of him but he recoils from your touch.

"Then Wade found me and now I'm here thinking maybe I had changed but now you're fucking here. I see you every time I close my eyes and now I see you here." His claws come out in a fit of anger as he slams his hands against the arm of your couch.

"And you're so nice, too nice. You look at me just like she did and it kills me inside." His claws retract as he slowly approaches you.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, I don't deserve this. Any of this." Tears pool in your eyes as you watch the man break down right in front of you. Weighed down by the guilt of his past. Things begin to click together, why he's been so hostile towards you all this time.

"Logan, what happened isn't your fault." You say calmly. His breath hitches, you sound just like you did back then. Same tone and everything.

"If I was stronger, smarter..."

"You were tricked, it was an accident." You slowly move closer to him, worried that you'd scare him like a wounded animal.

"How can you be so kind about this?" He asks in disbelief.

"I killed you!" His claws come out as he brings them dangerously close to your face.

"I put my claws through you, I watched you bleed out in my arms." You gently touch his claws, moving them away from your face and bringing his hand to your chest. He resists, not wanting to touch you. Not wanting to hurt you

"I'm not her Logan. I'm here, I'm alive. You don't have to push me away." His eyes close as relents and places his hand on your heart. The steady beating grounds him back to reality. His memories slowly fade as he listens. Now only focused on you.

Ba bump Ba bump Ba bump

"I know you think you deserve the worst. But you don't. Maybe, maybe this isn't the punishment you think it is. Maybe, the universe is giving you a do over.” You two know that you're different from the ones that you loved. That no matter how much you look like each other, its never going to be the same. But the same for both of you means death, loneliness. So maybe this is a good different.

“You’ve always been too good for me.” He says.

“No, I think I’ve always been what you needed.” Logan lets go of you but he stays close.

His thumb reaches out to brush away a stray tear. He cups your face and leans in slowly. He seems reluctant to take the final leap. To truly accept that he deserves good things so you meet him half way. Tugging at his shirt you bring your lips to his.

It's soft and sweet. Like a first kiss you share on the front steps of your porch after a first date. A first kiss, a fresh start. Logan deepens the kiss, guiding you gently to the couch. His lips travel down to your neck, nipping at your skin as he mumbles apologies.

"Logan," You squeak. He sits up, worry on his face.

"Too much?" He runs his hand over where he bit.

"No, but maybe we start slower. Breakfast?" Logan almost laughs at the idea of something so domestic but a fresh start is what he wanted. It's what he's gotten and he's not going to waste it.

"Yeah, breakfast sounds good."

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #worst!logan howlett #worst!logan howlett x reader

685 notes · View notes

fairyhaos · 1 year ago

Text

how seventeen react to their s/o backhugging them

requested ^_^ also junhui is in 2 diff bullet points bc i firmly believe he belongs in both categories teehee

masterlist

seungcheol, wonwoo, mingyu, dokyeom

see, here's the thing. he has a pretty broad and warm and sturdy back, and he's just so comfortable and always right there so of course you're gonna bury your face between his shoulder blades and never pay attention to the rest of the world ever again. you always collapse into his back after a particularly tiring day, while he's making dinner for the both of you and you want nothing more than to just bury yourself into his warmth and never leave. he's used to having you clinging to his back like a particularly stubborn limpet, and while he makes a small exclamation of surprise when you come out of nowhere to hug him, eventually he just smiles and lets you cling to him for however long u need

jeonghan, woozi, vernon, (junhui)

when you suddenly come up behind him and clamp an iron grip around his middle, he just pulls your arms more firmly around him, pats your hands and carries on with his day. you're holding him so tightly it's like you're afraid he's gonna disappear, and it's hard to move around bc you're plastered to his back and squeezing him kinda tight, but he does his best. that is, until he almost trips over your feet bc you're standing so close to him. he kinda feels like he's caught up in a trap, and tells you as such, every single time. “you're holding me hostage now, huh?” “i'm not holding you hostage.” “then are you gonna let me go?” “no.” but you're cute, so whatever. he'll happily be held hostage by you for however long it takes for you to decide he can finally be released.

joshua, minghao, chan

the moment he feels you burying your face into his back, hands around his middle, he's smiling and tilting his head back in response to your presence, murmuring a soft “hello, you” as you mumble unintelligible words into his shirt. he's so fond, practically melting in your hold, and he lets you stay plastered to his back for however long it takes you to wake up from your latest drowsy state that had you craving back hugs from him. because you backhugging him is saved for sleepy moments, for times when you're not quite awake and cling to him like a koala until you've fully woken up. it's adorable—you're adorable—so after a few minutes he's turning around and wrapping his arms around your shoulders and kissing ur cheek sweetly and asking if his lovely, lovely darling had a good sleep? <3

hoshi, seungkwan, (junhui)

yelps in surprise every time when you come up behind him and wrap around his back, before he realises that it's you and immediately relaxes. it's kinda comforting, feeling you and your warmth against him, but he gets kinda wriggly after a few minutes, wanting to see your face, so back hugs always end up turning into proper bear hugs where he wraps his arms around you and can look you in the eye properly before covering your entire face in kisses. he likes eye contact, likes seeing the love of his life right before him, and while backhugging is cute as hell do you know what’s even cuter? the little nose scrunch thingy he does when he gives you fluttery soft butterfly kisses over your eyelids.

request guidelines

reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @hanniehaee @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun

2K notes · View notes

imsofreakingtired · 18 days ago

Note

I am so so so so sorry if this is too close to nsfw (in my head it's very fluff/comfort but I apologise if it makes you uncomfortable bc I'm not sure), but thinking about Sevika w/ a partner who's been pressured by their ex's into doing things like sexually and her just reassuring them that like no baby I wanna hold you what r you talking ab I've been here all of 15 seconds I'm not tryna fuck calm down

And her partner who is so so surprised wdym ??? You just wanna spoon me isn't this the part where you grope my chest and Sevika is like BABY NO

I don't know I'm using her to cope this is so self indulgent I just wanna hear your thoughts on it

i love this idea, thank you for the request anon...and shitt this one was so personally relatable to me 😔

things i wanna say to you

content warning(s): mentions of trauma from past relationships, angst, hurt/comfort

"there's things i wanna say to you, but i'll just let you live like if you hold me without hurting me you'll be the first who ever did."

~~~

“Your beauty…it’s a blessing.”

It’s a sentence that returns and returns to you. It’s a truth you hold in your hands, or wear on your shoulders like a mantle you can’t take off. You have heard it, in one form or another, from the lips of lover to lover. They whispered it to you in the heat of sex, like a special confession only for you, and then vanished like a vapor.

Your body is like a hotel, you think—a pretty room that people pass through and love only in the moment. When was the last time you were held without the other person’s hands hungrily seeking your breasts? When was the last time you were kissed without their hands roaming your body like an impatient, starved animal?

Once, you had worked up the courage to confront them. You told them, “hands off.” You don’t exactly remember how the conversation went. But you know that it ended in them laughing in your face, suggesting you work at Babette’s if you wanted compensation for your body.

When they were gone, you stood in the silent room and wondered if they were right. You wondered if it was your fault. If your body was the only good thing, the only worthy thing about you. If you were nothing more than a pretty face and a blank canvas waiting to be ruined. If you were asking too much when you asked for even just a shadow of respect.

You stopped speaking after that.

~~~

Shortly after you began to work for Silco as his record scribe, you met his henchwoman, Sevika. Immediately you knew she was different. She didn’t look at you the way others did—in fact, she barely looked at you at all. When she spoke to you she looked down at you over her hooked nose, her handsome, perfect nose, in a way that made you feel both insignificant and the only woman in the entire world. She didn’t give you flattery about your appearance, spoke bluntly when you made mistakes.

Still you caught her staring at you from time to time when she thought you were too immersed in work to notice. But her face betrayed nothing. Her brows were always drawn together as if everything in the world annoyed her. You assumed she was only scrutinizing the way you worked. You wondered if Silco had ordered her to monitor you, assess your performance. You worked harder as a result, feeling oddly gratified to be watched for a reason other than your appearance.

So one could imagine your shock when Sevika strode up to your desk one morning and said, “get your coat. Walk with me.”

From that day on, you were hers.

~~~

The first night you moved into her apartment had been a hard day at work. You had been at the desk all day without a single break, trying frantically to keep up with the endless flow of Shimmer shipment records and orders. Sevika had been on her feet from dawn to dusk—you hadn’t seen her for two consecutive minutes even though you worked in the same building.

The night had deepened, the sky outside dusted with faint stars. You were undressing for bed. If you were tired, how exhausted must Sevika be? You paused in front of the mirror before you slipped the nightshirt over your body. Maybe she would want to let off some steam. Maybe she expected it from you. Hesitantly, you put the nightshirt on. You didn’t want to, but you felt like you owed it to her. Like she deserved it.

Sevika came in, her mechanical arm detached and water glistening on her face from a quick wash. She smiled slightly when she saw you waiting on the bed. “There’s my girl. C’mere.”

She sank into the bed you now shared with her, and obediently you crawled over and folded yourself into her embrace. Her right arm curled around you protectively. Her warmth, her strength, the tautness of her muscles against your skin. It was heavenly.

She sighed into your neck, and it made you shiver slightly. The question tiptoed to the end of your tongue: can we…can we maybe just stay like this?

But you feared she would say no. You feared she would be mad. And leave you.

You waited for her to make the next move, to start pulling the shirt over your head, or turn you around so she could grope between your legs. When several seconds passed and she did nothing, you realized that maybe she was waiting for you.

Reluctantly, you pulled yourself away and began to take off your shirt.

Sevika sat up, confused. “What are you doing?”

You freeze in your movements. Your shirt falls back down over your chest. “I—you don’t want to…?”

She shook her head, lips curling in a bemused smile. “Baby, relax. I’ve been here fifteen seconds.”

Slowly, you returned to her, and she pulled you close once more. Sevika felt the shudder of relief that went through your body. Though you didn’t see it, her face creased with concern. She had noticed the apprehension in your eyes, nearly bordering on fear. And she made a mental note to herself to find whatever fucker had hurt you and made you so scared.

~~~

#song: cinnamon girl by lana del rey #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika headcanon #sevika imagine #soft sevika #fluff #hurt/comfort

376 notes · View notes

michanvalentine · 20 days ago

Text

Some of my favorite lines—among the saddest—that Astarion has ever said. Every time I hear them, delivered so perfectly by Neil, my heart aches. I'm sharing them with you because my husband can't take hearing me talk about Astarion and Baldur's Gate anymore!

"It’s what you want, isn’t it? To lose yourself in me." There’s an entire world behind this line: the expression on his face, the tone of his voice. There’s sadness and resignation. This is how things work—this is who he is. The person in front of him is no different from the others, just another one who wants to lose themselves in him, use him for their own pleasure, and then move on as if nothing happened. Not only that, but it's also the same old charade used to deliver unsuspecting victims to the slaughter. The same old script, one he’s tired of, one that causes him pain. His eyes grow sad as he says it, his shoulders sink, his lips curve downward, and everything about him exudes bitterness. In that moment, amidst sweet words and sensual movements, the real Astarion comes out, carrying all the heavy baggage he’s been burdened with.

"Maybe, but did he take it." Cazador is dead, Astarion won, he’s alive, and he’s free. But the death of his tormentor didn’t turn back time, the death of the monster didn’t undo the damage or return what was stolen. It’s a powerful, terrifying, and painful realization, especially when you think about how these things—these parts of Astarion—were taken and erased. Because what is gone wasn’t just lost—it was replaced with suffering, shame, anger, hatred, and horrific experiences. These are memories that will stay with him for the rest of his un-life, memories he’ll have to battle every single day.

"All right, I’ll do it." The way he says it, after Tav/Durge delves into his mind and uses his greatest fear against him, is utterly heartbreaking. Once again, there’s resignation, but there’s also fear and, worst of all, a hint of submission. In that moment, Tav/Durge is the embodiment of Cazador. They bring back his most horrifying experience, fill him with pure terror, and remind him of how useless, weak, and pathetic he is—unable to defend himself. It makes him feel small again, lost, and willing to do anything just to feel safe. And this is coming from the very person who, up until that moment (unless the player is a complete sociopath xP), had been helping him regain a shred of self-worth and independence. It’s truly a low blow, a betrayal—especially because Astarion depends on Tav/Durge, much like he depended on Cazador, but in a positive way instead of a negative one. They force him, against his will, to do something he doesn’t want to do, and with that statement, Astarion seems to be saying, “Yes, master.”

"I didn’t know how to say no." This one is heartbreaking too, it hits right in the heart. It really hurts, especially in context, but also in general. Saying "no" is a fundamental right of every free individual. But Astarion doesn’t say that he can’t say no—he says he doesn’t know how to say it. And that’s truly sad, because at this point, it’s no longer just an external imposition; it’s something internalized. And of course, it goes without saying that here too, Tav/Durge took advantage of Astarion—of his inability to defend himself, to immediately recognize and stop behavior that should be shut down at the first sign because it’s harmful to him. Once again, Tav/Durge betrays him in the worst way, right after an agonizing confession, no less—Astarion opens up and admits to having very real struggles with sex.

Do you have any favorite lines too? Obviously, there are a billion more funny ones, but I’m afraid I’d need an entire day to write down all my favorites. I just love this little shit too much. xD

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 astarion #baldur's gate astarion #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion

193 notes · View notes

pickingupmymercedes · 8 months ago

Text

Lewis Masterlist

Series/Multichapters

Longer than I care to admit p.1 / p.2 / p.3

“I have loved you for longer than I care to admit. I have not stopped loving you, even when I said I didn’t. Even when hating you was all I wanted.”

It comes with the territory p.1 / p.2 / p.3

“This… this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But no love is worth losing my sanity over. Not even ours.”

An Invisible String Theory Story p.1 / p.2 / p.3

"I’ve always felt that string pulling me closer to something. But never, not even in my most beautiful dreams, had I imagined that it was to bind us together."

It was bound to come out p.1 / p.2

"Do I look like I'm joking? This is not a joke! My father has seen a video of us... the one video that couldn’t leave my phone!"

Not just a pretty face p.1 / p.2 / p.3 / bonus

"because even this… even this agonizing dance is better than not having you at all."

Maybe in another life - p.1 / p.2 / p.3

"A what-if that will forever linger in the quiet corners of my mind."

She’s here and she’s ours - p.1 / p.2 / p.3 / p.4 / p.5 / p.6 / p.7 / p.8

You couldn’t really tell if he was telling you or himself that. "How you feeling dad?" "Amazed, hopeful, scared... in love"

Get me out of here p.1 / p.2

“Why are you defending him?” “Because we need to think this through, babe. Toto’s not one of us anymore, you saw it.”

Your future was Ferrari -

Surely, it meant nothing for Lewis and you would probably never see him again. Your future was at Ferrari, somewhere he would never step foot in. Or would he?!

Specials (collection of drabbles)

Ways to say “I love you” p.1 / p.2 / p.3(NSFW)

All these little things p.1 / p.2

Small firsts p.1

Firsts - NSFW p.1 / p.2

Ways they show they love each other p.1 / p.2

One-Shots

Angst

It had to be enough - "I’m so fucking tired of fighting, of trying to prove that I still belong here." "I can’t keep watching you tear yourself apart like this. It’s killing me, Lewis."

Home is wherever you are - "You shouldn't have come" "Had to"

An impossible dream - "Don't you ever wonder what could have been?"

I didn't get scared. I'm always scared - “Do you even understand what it’s like for me? To love someone who lives every day like it might be their last?”

Not now, not ever - "You don't have to go through this alone, you know"

I'll come find you - “I’m scared… of how things have been, of how things are going to be.”

If these wings could fly - “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like Sunday. It’s been so long and everyone’s worked so hard for that”

And just like the sun, we will rise - “I can’t promise to have all the answers, but please let me in”

Fluffs

Salt and Starlight -“This is exactly how I imagined love when I was a teenager.” “Yeah? Did you imagine me too?” “Shut up.” “For the record, I like vintage Ferraris better anyway.”

A Christmas Carol - “That’s what makes it special, honey. It’s never about the perfect decorations or the perfect dinner. It’s about… this.” “The mess. The people. The noise. The love in all of it.”

What it means - “Since I was five, since I first saw Ayrton race on TV. He was my absolute hero, and I didn’t know much about the world back then, didn’t know what I could be, but seeing him… it made me believe.

Lucky you're hot - The kind of kiss that would’ve been cute—if it weren’t for the fact that I was very much on camera, in a professional setting, with a dozen or so people watching.

A smile like that -"And he’s out there, posting photos like it’s some romantic movie."

A bit mushy - How Lewis and his wife do in a couple's Interview.

Happy you're home - "And trust me, he adores you. He just doesn't know how to express it."

Later it is - “But that safety pin right there is holding on for dear life.” “I only care about what you think.” “Flatterer.”

Of thorns and blooms - "It's meant to be worn by someone who sees the world differently, who tells stories with every thread"

He always rises - "Like I knew I'd given it my all, every lap, every strategy meeting. And finally, finally, it’s paying off. It feels… good. It feels so damn good."

R for Roscoe, C for Coco - "You went through all this trouble just for Father's Day with Roscoe?"

Boy from Stevenage - "you don't need to win over that entire room tonight. You just need to make that brave boy from Stevenage proud."

Whispered fairytale - "The point is in the surprise. The joy of meeting them, whoever they are, for the very first time."

A thousand times over - "Since I still don’t believe it’s true… would you marry me, again?"

It sounds silly - "I'm a grown woman who’s achieved success in life, yet… I find myself comparing to those other women."

NSFW (+18 only)

White Fireproof - “I’m only pointing out the obvious. The 2019 ones were iconic. These? Meh.” “I don’t remember much from that race. But those ten minutes? Burned into my memory forever.”

Can't check out -“Where’s the cutthroat guy who would have had me pinned to the wall by now?"

Utterly gone -“But for the record, I also owe you.”

Very First -“I want this. I want you. And I’m not saying that lightly.”

Salty -"Told you” she whispered, her thumb brushing against his bottom lip. "It’s salty."

Damn him -“I believe you’ve got two things that are mine” “My hair tie you took with you this morning. And you babe, you're mine.”

Give yourself some credit - “I’m gonna give you five minutes to mourn that shit qualy” “You think you can handle me, pretty girl?”

What those arms can do - "Let's focus on you for now, love. And what these arms can do to you."

Warm enough - "Did you know there were no doors in this place?" "I might have known. Thought it could be romantic"

It's not just a win - The 104 special - "I just...I needed this. I needed to win. To prove to myself that I still can."

Improvised Compensation - "My plans definitely involve you" he continued, "but they can be done anywhere"

As good as chocolate - "That's a new way to claim your share"

I'm yours, only yours - Vegas special - “You really thought she was any match for you?”

It always points South - “Your compass tattoo, huh?”

My Venus - MET special - "I can actually feel your eyes searing holes in my dress, Lewis."

I want South - "Hello, miss explorer”

You only need to ask - "Seems like someone's forgotten how we got here in the first place"

It's Mrs. Hamilton - “Mark me, show me who I belong to”

The things we do for fashion - "Like what you see?" "More than you'll ever know."

Show me you care - “I’m asking you to, show me how much you want this, because I know you do”

My mark - “I’m not one to leave things unfinished”

NSFW alphabet

Senna!Reader x Lewis Hamilton

Thank you for everything - "It doesn't matter how long it's been" "Grief doesn't have a deadline."

Under an Ipê tree - “He would’ve liked you I think… would’ve hated to race you, for sure."

Drabbles

Do not under any circumstance plagarize, edit, repurpose, or repost any of my original work. this includes all of my works.

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lh #lh44 #lewis #lewis x reader #lewis imagine #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton x you

568 notes · View notes