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pamperedollie · 6 months ago

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XOXO. જ⁀➴ ONE

. ۫ ꣑ৎ "you look great,"

summary. don’t get too cozy, Y/N—not even at home… because gossip girl never blinks.

word count. 3.9k

warnings. underage drinking, cheating, language

You trudge into your bedroom, dragging your feet beneath you as your legs burn like fire. Your brain feels foggy, and all you want to do is close your eyes. You flop onto your bed and sigh. You don’t miss this feeling—you hate it, in fact. Today was your first day back at your internship after being on vacation, and you’re now weeks behind on your work. You stayed four hours late today just to catch up.

“Honey, could you help me in here?” your mom calls out from the living room, her voice in a sing-song tone. Could she have chosen a worse time? You feel your soft mattress sinking beneath you, but you force yourself up, trudging toward the door with the weight of the day dragging you down.

As you pass through the kitchen, the conflicting sweet aroma of rich vanilla and the smoky scent of the grill surprisingly pair together nicely, instilling you with a slight sense of calm. All you want is to sit still and enjoy it. But instead, you drag yourself into the living room.

“Why do you always insist on doing these things yourself? You’ll end up hurting yourself again,” you mutter, the words slipping out before you can stop them. You already begin to regret it as your mom turns to glare at you. She’s holding one of her signature curated art pieces—one she only brings out for these dinner parties. She says it “sparks conversation.”

“We’ve been through this! Your father helps cook dinner, and I fix up the house,” she adds, adjusting the frame. “I really don’t even do that much anyway…”

You can’t help but laugh, looking around the penthouse. You observe the meticulously arranged dinner table, the balcony doors slightly ajar letting in a breeze that feels almost intentional. Your father is directing a small army of dessert and dinner caterers around the kitchen, and floral arrangements adorn every corner of the home. You sigh. “Sure, Mom. Whatever you say!”

It may not sound like a typical dinner party, but your mom takes these events very seriously. These so-called dinner parties rarely have a guest list under one hundred people; they are extravagant affairs where the rich and elite fight tooth and nail for the juiciest gossip and the chance to one-up each other with tales of their latest business ventures and lavish vacations. You loathe every second of it and would just stay in your room the entire time if it weren’t for your parents.

But it isn’t all bad.

There’s one frequent guest you can tolerate—barely—Ryan Bennett. She was born into a family of doctors and therapists and raised only by her father. In a world of superficial people, she’s genuinely sweet—the most authentic person you know in a never-ending sea of snakes. She’s mature, which suits her since her father is a behavioral therapist, and she hopes to follow in his footsteps. Ryan is the kind of girl you wish you could be more like—a diamond in a sea of pearls. Although she does have her flaws...

Ryan is impossible to keep up with when it comes to relationships. Once one ends, it’s on to the next. Now, this would be fine if her taste wasn’t exclusively in older men—college students, CEOs; it didn’t matter. As soon as she turned eighteen, she tossed aside anyone her age.

---

Time slips through your fingers as you sit at your vanity, staring at your reflection for hours, covering every blemish and pimple, applying just enough blush until it looks like you’ve just come back from a romantic walk in the snow. Your dress of choice is gold; it covers you down to your feet and hugs your figure like a glove. Its silk drapes elegantly at your chest. You carefully brush each section of your hair, rolling each strand into perfect curls. The tension in your shoulders aches, but what can you say? You love a flawless blowout.

KNOCK KNOCK

With rollers still clinging to your head and your setting powder baking under your eyes, you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. Your parents aren’t knockers; they’re more of the “coming in!” types, barging in without a second thought. But it’s only six; the party hasn’t even started. Panic fills your entire body from head to toe.

“Who is it?” you ask, holding your breath.

“Me, dummy!” a familiar voice calls from the other side of the door. You release a deep sigh of relief and shuffle to the door.

Ryan steps inside, plopping down onto your bed like it’s her own. She looks you up and down. “The invitation said formal wear clubbing,” she jokes, raising an eyebrow as she assesses your outfit.

You glance her up and down as she smooths the hem of her glittery black mini dress. Her stilettos click as she crosses her legs. “Okay…” you tease, eyeing her from head to toe.

“What?” she giggles, unbothered. “I heard the Vanderbilts are coming.”

You laugh, leaning back against your chair. “You going after the dad next?” you remark, knowing full well where this conversation is headed.

“Oh, not yet,” she yawns, stretching her limbs as if she’s just getting started. “I’m saving him until I’m twenty-five and he’s in the middle of a midlife crisis.” You can’t help but laugh at how nonchalantly she says it

“Then who?” you question, leaning back a little more.

“Harris, the oldest,” she replies without hesitation, a gleam in her eyes.

You gasp. Harris? The model child of the Vanderbilt family? Currently studying law at Yale? He’s back?

“Yes, he’s back, staying till winter’s over,” she adds, almost as if she could read your mind—and casually at that. You’re not surprised Ryan would know all this; she’s almost always the first to know when it comes to this stuff. Ryan’s a silent observer of the world around her, and it’s kind of charming how perceptive she is.

A short while later, you get up from your vanity and fall back onto the bed, the weight of it all sinking in. “I’m so tired of it all, Ryan,” you admit without thinking.

She shifts on the bed to face you, looking… concerned. “What’s up?” she asks.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should burden her with the mess that is your life and ruin the mood. But Ryan’s always been the one you could talk to about this stuff; she’s never not been there for you.

“You can tell me anything, Y/N,” she reassures you, smiling softly.

You can’t hold it in anymore. “Well, there’s the internship… I feel like I’m invisible. My boss doesn’t recognize me for anything.” You exhale sharply, looking up, trying to stop the tears from bubbling in your eyes. “Then school—God, I’ve been so worked up from the stress of my internship that I’ve forgotten what’s going on in any of my classes.” You can feel the frustration and exhaustion release from your body.

Ryan’s eyes soften. “Listen, Y/N, this is gonna sound so shitty, but hear me out,” her voice lowers, quieter now. “You’re too humble for your own good. You’re ashamed of your privilege, trying your hardest to get by without it, but—” she laughs, “You have the opportunity to forget about school and really take on fashion fully—but you’d rather try to juggle the two? Trust me when I say so many girls would kill to have something to fall back on if school doesn’t go well.” The weight of her words hits you hard.

You’ve spent so much time hating your wealth and power, wishing it away, but now, in the quiet of your room, you realize how fucking stupid that is.

“I hate how right you are sometimes,” you admit.

You and Ryan finish the final touches of your hair and makeup and head outside the room. The space is crowded, the sounds of expensive chatter and clinking glasses ringing in your ears. You take in the sea of faces you know all too well.

Businessmen who can’t separate work from play, the silver-spooned socialites, trophy wives, and burnout trust-fund kids—including… the worst of them all.

Alexa Esparza, heiress to her family’s billion-dollar hotel chain, and an absolute snake. Then Evan Ortigas, the burnout skater who thinks rolling out of bed qualifies as getting ready. His father owns a massive production company, so Evan never really had to try at life. Damson Sinclair, probably the most genuine out of all of them—he was just so annoyingly rich, his family founded the largest tech company in the world. Surprisingly, Damson never fell back on his wealth; he’s actually a straight-A student and an amazing coder. He’s just shitty by association. Then worst of all, Drew Vanderbilt. The Vanderbilts were all lawyers—like literally every Vanderbilt—hence why they’re such assholes. Drew is the walking embodiment of privilege and arrogance.

All they really did was gossip, party, and… nope, that’s it.

You’ve seen it all before—their reckless antics at almost every event. They’d get high and/or drunk and act like they own the world, making absolute fools of themselves. Once, you caught Evan HOOKING UP in YOUR ROOM. What really gets under your skin most of all is the fact that they thrive on the attention, live for it, really.

Gossip Girl eats this up—the blog that tracks every scandal and ridiculous moment of their lives. You’re proud to say you’ve never made an appearance on the blog, and you intend to keep it that way.

You shuffle around the room, exchanging shallow, substanceless small talk with the guests, swarmed with empty chatter. You can feel your exhaustion creeping back in. All you want is to get away, to breathe for just a moment.

You slip away to the balcony, but of course, Evan is there waiting for you—the burnout, stoner, and skater who thinks he’s God’s gift to everyone. “You look pretty,” his eyes scanning you like a piece of meat.

You sigh. “Save it for your girlfriend, Evan.” You brush him aside, but he doesn’t falter, grabbing your arm before you can get away. “Can’t I give a compliment?” he asks, flashing a predatory smile.

You snatch your arm back, repulsed. “Not when your girlfriend is in there sitting alone. You’re such an asshole.” His smug expression fades, and he backs off, returning to the party.

Just as you start to find solace in the bustling space, a voice breaks the silence. You turn to see Drew Vanderbilt, all 6’2” of him.

Great…

As he walks toward the edge of the balcony, you notice he’s on the phone. “Are you fucking serious? Dad’s waiting on you, and so is Lila. You can’t just put that on me!” His voice is sharp and strained, and he gives you a polite nod, barely acknowledging your existence before returning to his argument.

“Could you just leave your work behind for one night and be with your family?” His voice rises, making you feel like an intruder on something personal.

You stand frozen for a moment, hearing him argue into his phone, his brow furrowed and jaw tight. For the first time, you feel a flicker of empathy for Drew Vanderbilt—but then you immediately withdraw it. Taking a deep breath, you know it’s time to exit the situation.

You step back into the party, the heat of the room overwhelming from the sheer number of people. You grab a cold glass of champagne from a passing waiter, the bubbles tickling your throat as you slowly take a sip. Finding a quiet corner to sit alone, you let the chaos whirl around you. Your eyes begin to wander—Alexa and Damson trying to sneakily hit their vapes (it’s painfully obvious), Evan getting touchy with his girlfriend in the corner—a reminder to lock your bedroom door later.

Then your eyes land on her: Lila Vanderbilt, the youngest of the family. You’ve always thought she was sweet, and it’s hard not to feel sympathy seeing her sitting alone with her head down.

You decide to go over and keep her company. After all, you share a bit of history from being on the student council together. You’re sort of friends?

“Hey, how are you?” you place a hand gently on her shoulder, trying to grab her attention. She looks up, her face brightening when she recognizes you, a warm smile spreading across her face.

“I’m great!” she says, standing up. “How are you? Oh my gosh, we haven’t spoken in forever,” she asks, her voice filled with genuine kindness.

“I’m good, just waiting for this party to be over,” you reply sarcastically, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

Lila giggles. “Right? I had to come straight from practice. I got ready in the locker room. I’m so exhausted!”

You share a chuckle, bonding over the shared annoyance of these events. It’s nice having someone to talk to who gets it.

You chat for a while, catching up, talking about everything from school to how obvious Alexa and Damson are being. You almost forget where you are in the midst of the conversation.

But then, you hear a deep, husky voice that brings you back to reality. “You missed me?” There he is—Harris Vanderbilt. His voice carries such power that it instantly makes the air heavier. Lila’s face lights up as she turns to see her brother, practically jumping to hug him. “You came! Drew said you had to work!” Her excitement is clear. It’s sweet to see.

Harris chuckles. “Thank Drew. He practically called me every name under the sun to get me here.” There’s a slight annoyance in his tone.

So that’s who he was arguing with…

You let out a small chuckle to yourself, accidentally catching Harris’ attention. His gaze lands on you with a familiarity that sends a strange flutter through your chest. Taking a slow sip of champagne, his gaze doesn’t leave you for a second. His smirk grows slightly, as if he knows something you don’t.

You awkwardly laugh and smile, avoiding direct eye contact. Then he breaks the silence. “Y/N, how are you?” His deep voice is smooth as he extends his hand to you. You stare at it for a second—large, confident, powerful—and place your hand into his, feeling his warmth against yours.

“I’m great, how’s Yale?” you manage, trying your hardest to keep your composure.

“Stressful,” he replies with a slight humor, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “But it’s nice to see you.”

He begins to rub his hands together, as though he’s considering something. His eyes scan you up and down. The look is quick, but it sends a shiver down your spine. You try to ignore the dreadful nervousness creeping in.

“You look great, by the way,” Harris adds, licking his lips. His voice is low and steady, the compliment lingering in the air between you two, making you fumble over your words.

“Thank you,” you respond, nodding rapidly, the smile on your face a little too tightt.

You finally make your way to the bar, desperate for an escape from the intensity of the night. A deep sigh escapes your lips as you bury your face in the cold marble counter. The chill against your forehead is almost comforting, and you try to let go of all the frustration of the evening, wishing you could make sense of it all.

Slowly, you lift your head from the counter and glance back at the party behind you. People are starting to leave, and you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. This night is almost over, and soon, you can retreat to your room.

But just then, your peace is shattered once again by that all-too-familiar presence beside you. You glance to the side and see none other than Drew Vanderbilt—the last person you want to see right now.

Isn’t that enough Vanderbilt for one evening?

He rests his elbows on the bar. “Whiskey on the rocks, please,” Drew mutters to the bartender, looking utterly exhausted and worn out. Before he takes a sip, he lets out a heavy sigh, dropping his head down to face the counter, his posture slumped in a way that makes you wonder if the night has drained him as much as it has drained you.

After a moment, he glances over at you, his eyes narrowing slightly when he notices your worried expression. “Do you need something?” he asks, his voice dripping with his usual attitude.

You cringe. What an asshole.

“You looked like shit, but I forgot—that’s just you!” you shoot back, flashing a dry smile. Without giving him a chance to respond, you grab your champagne and make a beeline for the door, not bothering to look back.

You just need to get out of there.

Hoping for some solitude, you lean against your room door, putting all your weight on it. But as you open the door, you freeze. Your brain takes a second to process what it’s seeing—Ryan and Damson, completely enveloped in each other, kissing on YOUR bed.

You can’t believe it. “Not you, Ryan…” you mutter under your breath, disbelief clouding your thoughts. You step into the room and slam the door behind you. “OUT!” you snap, your voice sharp.

Ryan looks up at you, her eyes wide, clearly caught off guard. After a split second of hesitation, Damson bolts from the room, leaving you and Ryan alone.

Ryan tries to explain herself, her voice frantic. “Wait, don’t hate me, please! I promise there’s a valid reason—”

You pause. You can’t just kick her out without hearing her out. Crossing your arms, you let out a sigh. “Fine, talk,” you say, flopping down onto the edge of your bed.

She crosses her legs, holding a pillow for comfort. “Harris totally rejected me. Like, he wanted nothing to do with me,” she sighs, frustration lacing her words. “I was just upset and needed a rebound.”

You blink, stunned. Harris rejecting… Ryan? That’s hard to fathom. You haven’t heard of someone rejecting her in years; it’s a rare occurrence. Seeing her like this makes your heart ache, especially knowing you weren’t there for her.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur under your breath. But before you can continue, you can’t help but ask, unable to suppress your grin. “But Damson?”

You both burst into laughter at the sheer absurdity of the situation. For a moment, the chaos of the night fades, and you share a brief moment of calm together.

But, of course, nothing lasts.

BZZZ, BZZZ

You both pull out your phones at the same time. The sound of a notification echoes in the now silent room. You look at your phone—and for a second, your heart stops.

to be continued…

#gossipgirl #gossip girl au #drew starkey #harris dickinson #love triangle #drew starkey fic #black reader #latina reader #poc reader #romance fiction #romance novels #drew starkey x reader #harris dickinson x reader #harris dickinson fic #xoxodollie #drewdollie #harrisdollie

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beauiestars · 6 months ago

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Logan Howlett x Reader

(Part One/Part Two)

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Fem!Reader

PROMPT: "Stay. Just for tonight."

SUMMARY: After Logan manages to score a date with the new teacher, their night ends up being one to certainly remember.

WORD COUNT: 2.3K

Logan ran a hand through his hair with an exasperated huff. The pink paper around the bouquet he held rustled in his grip as he jogged to the dive bar where you had arranged to meet. At some point between changing his shirt three times and deciding to buy you flowers, the time had slipped away from him. Logan was running late for your date, and he was stressing—his mind racing with a mixture of guilt and nerves. He couldn’t believe he was messing this up.

He could already imagine you sitting there at the bar, sipping away at your drink with those perfect lips, thinking that you’d been stood up by some bum. In this case, he was the bum—and hell, did he feel guilty about it. He shoved past groups of people on the crowded sidewalk. A couple of passerby yelled curses his way, but he barely heard them, too preoccupied with getting to you. One jerk even threw a half-hearted elbow into his side as Logan responded with a quick middle finger—his irritation more with himself than with anyone else.

He could see the glowing neon signs just down the street. He hurried his pace, silently hoping that you would still be there. Maybe after months of him being rude and distant, avoiding you because he didn’t have the guts to ask you out, you’d already given up. After all, he hadn’t exactly made it easy on you. He wouldn’t have blamed you if you had already left.

The bell rang as he yanked the door open, his eyes immediately scanning the bar. He sought you out like a bloodhound, but there was no sign of you. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, he thought he might have blown it—he had probably messed up a chance with the only woman he had been genuinely interested in for years. He nearly turned around, ready to bolt, when a tall man, who’d been standing directly in front of you, slid into the seat beside you, revealing that you’d been there the whole time.

Logan's eyes furrowed in irritation. The man was leaning into you, speaking animatedly with grand, theatrical gestures, which were clumsy and far from elegant. Logan could feel the edge of anger bubbling in his stomach.

But then he saw your face—your expression told him everything he needed to know. Not only had you stayed, but your face was an open book of disinterest. Your lips pressed tightly together, and you avoided direct eye contact, clearly not invested in the conversation at all. Your eyes, the ones Logan could get lost in for hours, flicked back to the glass in your hand. You swirled it in a slow, rhythmic motion, your gaze distant, indifferent to the guy sitting next to you.

Logan exhaled a sharp breath, trying to rein in his frustration. He snapped himself out of it, refusing to let anything ruin this moment. The guy didn’t need to be around any longer. He needed to go—now. Without hesitation, Logan placed his hand firmly on the man’s shoulder. The guy turned with a deep frown, his eyes narrowing in annoyance.

“Hey buddy, we’re in the middle of something here,” the guy grumbled.

“Oh yeah?” Logan’s voice dropped to a low growl. “Well, you better wrap it up now. The lady is with me, pal.” He squeezed the man’s shoulder tighter, feeling him stiffen under the pressure. You watched with an amused smile, your eyes twinkling with an unspoken thanks.

Logan winked as he pulled the guy to his feet, his hands firmly gripping the guy’s shirt. "Get lost, bub," Logan added, his voice thick with finality. The man shot Logan a nasty shove before stomping off toward the door.

“Fuck you, asshole!” he called back, but Logan already sat down beside you, his focus entirely on you now.

“Sorry I’m late,” Logan said, his tone genuine and apologetic, holding up the slightly wilted bouquet. The paper was crinkled, and several petals had fallen off, leaving the flowers looking a bit worse for wear.

“Thank you, Logan. They’re perfect,” you smiled, taking them from his hands and placing them gently on the bar.

“I didn’t want you to think I stood you up,” Logan said, scratching the back of his neck, his nerves betraying him. “I know I can be an ass, but I wouldn’t do that. Especially not to you, y’know? I’d be an idiot to stand up a girl like you. Hell, if I ever did that, you might as well shoot me—”

You pressed your fingers to his lips, giggling softly. “Hey, it’s okay. No need to explain yourself.” He shut his mouth with a snap, mentally scolding himself. He was rambling—something he never did. “I had a bit more faith in you than that.”

“I’m glad.” He let out a breath. Honestly, he couldn’t believe this was happening. Logan wasn’t exactly a man prone to insecurity. Hell, he used to get more women than he knew what to do with, but when it came to you, he was a mess of raging hormones, self-consciousness, and all the nervous energy he couldn’t quite control.

He leaned on the bar, watching you as he ordered his first drink. Every time he looked at you, it felt like his heart stuttered. The next few hours flew by like seconds. You two dove into engaging conversation, and at one point, your hand made its way to his forearm, your fingers tracing gentle shapes into his skin, sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine. He paid for the rest of your drinks, even covering your first one—anything to make you smile.

The evening felt effortless. As the hours passed, you both talked like you’d known each other forever. Your laughter was infectious.

"Hey, I'm hungry," you said, breaking the rhythm of the conversation. "Wanna get out of here?"

Logan nodded enthusiastically, eager to make the night last. He pulled out your chair and even held the door open for you as you exited the dive bar. He wasn’t about to let the night go by without making you feel like you were the most important person in the room.

The sky had turned dark, the street lamps casting a soft glow on the deserted streets. The shop windows were dark, silent, as you and Logan walked along the path. The chill in the air caught on your bare arms, making you shiver slightly.

Logan, with his sharp senses, noticed instantly. Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and held it out to you. “Here, put it on, doll.”

You glanced up at him through your lashes, the sweetest grin forming on your face. “What a gentleman,” you teased, though the cold was starting to make you wish you’d accepted it sooner. “Usually, I’d say no thank you to be polite, but I’m freezing.”

Logan grinned, handing over the jacket. You slid your arms through it, the fabric engulfing your frame. It was too big for you, much too big for anyone, really—Logan was huge, and his clothes seemed to swallow you whole.

The sight of you in his jacket, the way it hung loosely off you, sparked something deep within him. His thoughts veered down a much more dangerous path. He had to look away quickly, a flush creeping up his neck as the thought of taking you somewhere private and letting his hands roam made his heart race.

As Logan turned his head, he caught sight of a food truck on the other side of the street. He froze, recognising it immediately. This was the truck he always went to on his lunch breaks, though he didn’t know they stayed open this late. He stopped in his tracks and pulled you toward it, his hand settling on your waist.

“Huh?” You turned to see what he was pointing at, and your eyes lit up.

“You said you were hungry?” You nodded eagerly, and Logan grinned. “Food’s on me. Their stuff is fantastic.” He entwined his fingers with yours, and you squeezed his hand in appreciation.

You both picked out your meals, and Logan’s easy rapport with the man running the truck made you laugh. It was clear they were on a first-name basis.

You sat down on the sidewalk to eat. The street was quiet enough that you could stretch your legs out without worrying about getting run over. It was perfect.

“This is so good,” you said, between bites, trying your best to be ladylike, but failing just a little. “I see why you come here so often.”

If Logan were being honest, the fact that you looked so natural, so unguarded, was really starting to turn him on. “Yeah. It’s good stuff,” he said with a grin, his gaze lingering on you.

You ate in a comfortable silence, savouring the warmth of the food and the closeness of Logan’s presence. When you were finally finished, you stood first, offering your hands to help Logan up. He took your hands, but he did most of the work to pull himself up, knowing you didn’t stand a chance against his size.

“Next stop, the academy?” you asked, the question carrying a slight sadness. You had enjoyed every second of the evening, but it was getting late, and you had early classes in the morning. Logan didn’t seem eager for the night to end either.

“I suppose so,” Logan replied, but there was a hesitation in his voice that mirrored your own reluctance.

You squeezed his hand again and looked up at him. “We could always take the long way back.” A mischievous smirk pulled at the corner of your lips.

“Sounds perfect,” he replied, his grin wolfish and just as playful as yours.

You turned off the main path, taking the longer route back to the academy, both of you giggling like lovesick teenagers. What was supposed to be a twenty-minute walk turned into almost an hour, filled with laughter and flirtation.

As you neared the academy gates, you groaned loudly, the exhaustion from the evening’s fun starting to hit you. Your feet ached, especially in the new shoes you hadn’t had a chance to break in properly. Logan turned to you, sensing your discomfort.

“My feet hurt, these damn shoes,” you said, your voice tinged with a whine. “Could you please just hold on a second?”

You shot him an apologetic look before crouching down to remove the shoes. You struggled a bit, frustrated by how stiff they felt.

“Hey, hold on,” Logan said suddenly, stopping in his tracks. “I’m not about to make you walk back barefoot, am I?”

Your eyes flicked up in surprise as you straightened, just in time for Logan to scoop you up into his arms. The gasp that escaped your lips was quickly followed by a delighted squeal, but you settled into his arms immediately. Logan was strong—his grip secure—and you had no intention of complaining.

He grinned, amused by your stunned expression. “I told you, you’re light as hell,” he teased.

You didn’t mind. Hell, you’d been hoping for something like this to happen all night, and now, as he carried you across the school grounds, you felt like the luckiest girl alive.

When he finally set you down outside your door, the warm, comforting buzz of the evening seemed to pause, as if reality was creeping in. “Thank you for that,” you said softly, meeting his gaze.

“Picking you up? No big deal,” Logan chuckled, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. His muscles rippled with every move, and you tried to remind yourself that you weren’t here just to objectify him.

“No—well, that too,” you quickly clarified, warmth rising in your cheeks. “But the whole date. That was easily one of the best dates I’ve been on.”

Logan’s face flushed pink—something you never thought you’d see. Logan rarely blushed, but you had a way of drawing it out of him.

“I find that hard to believe,” Logan said, a sly smile creeping onto his face. “But if anything, I reckon I could do it better next time.”

You grinned, holding your palm over your lips to stifle a giggle that threatened to escape. “Is that you asking me on a second date?”

Logan’s smile widened, his eyes playful. “Depends what your answer is.”

You didn’t even hesitate, almost too eagerly. “Obviously,” you said, the excitement making your words a little too quick.

“Well, we can talk about the details later.” Logan’s voice dropped, and your heart skipped a beat as he looked at you, desire flickering in his eyes.

You toyed with the strap of your purse, a slow smile forming. “Maybe... Maybe we could discuss it in the morning?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, testing the waters. “You sure?”

Your voice dropped to a near-whisper. “Stay. Just for tonight.”

That was all Logan needed to hear. His hands slid to your waist, and before you knew it, his lips crashed into yours, his kiss deep and urgent. He pushed you back against the door as you fumbled blindly for the handle.

Once it clicked open, you guided him into your room, never breaking the kiss. The rest of the night was nothing but a blur of passion, clothes tossed aside, and the growing heat between you both. Logan was exactly what you had hoped for, and then some. As he pulled you onto the bed, you knew one thing for certain: the morning class? Yeah, you probably weren’t going to make it.

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

TAGS:

#logan howlett #xmen #wolverine #fanfiction #writing #romance fiction #tension #teacher au #xmen fanfiction #wolverine fanfiction #mutants #amwriting #writers of tumblr #x reader #reader insert #drabble #oneshot #dialogue prompt #ao3

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lightning-wyvern · 2 months ago

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just as i promised

available on ao3

toshiro hitsugaya x male reader | fluff, angst, romance, smut content blood, angsty shit, a literal murder, a little bitta cryin', sexual activity but it's poetically described instead of explicit?, you have an accent because " yeh're grimm's brotha' "

pov espada-reaper! reader (espada who is recruited into the 13 court guard squads; im pretty sure I made that term up)

words 9,275

notes can also be found on my ao3 (see on pinned)

really long read; ts took 4 months to write yo. so grab a snack and buckle up!

snowfall in the seireitei was rare.

very rare.

even more rare was toshiro standing perfectly still in the middle of it, letting it fall onto his white hair without brushing it away. the cold didn’t bite him—it never had. but this time it felt different, this weather wasn’t his cold.

it was yours.

crimson mist, faint and ghost-like, drifted through the air like if blood became fog. residual reiryoku—your reiryoku—lingered around squad four's barracks, even though you hadn't stepped outside all day. of course you hadn't; you were you.

"captain hitsugaya," izuru kira said softly from behind toshiro, trying not to scare him. "you're staring into empty space again."

toshiro didn't respond. he hardly ever had to; izuru kira knew when to close his mouth.

there was a pulse of energy in the air—like a heart thudding just once. a signal. the same signal that had echoed through toshiro's soul the second you were brought back into the soul society. that pulse had never left.

it had been years since your human deaths. years.

actually, almost two centuries.

but even centuries in the soul society couldn't erase the sound of your laugh. or the memory of your blood-stained hands, protecting him in the middle of that rain-slicked courtyard.

[ flashback; human world, both aged 15 ]

the schoolyard was flooded. not with rain, but with blood and sirens.

you were screaming.

toshiro, younger and barely breathing, was crouched behind you with a dislocated shoulder and a fresh gash across his face.

"he touched ya, he hurt ya. toshiro, th-those guys hurt ya." you hissed, your voice shaking. a long, bent iron pipe dangled from your hand, slick with blood.

"they were gonna kill you, 'shiro."

toshiro was crying, but quietly. not from pain—no, you had seen him brush off much worse. he was crying from something heavier, something he hadn't told anyone yet.

"you'll be okay," you said, "I promise. i'll protect ya. even if I have ta burn in hell forever."

the sirens were getting louder.

toshiro grabbed your blood-soaked hand and whispered, "if we die— if we go somewhere else after this—i'll find you. no matter how long it takes, no matter what I have to do."

you blinked at him, then smiled through the tears.

"you'd better."

[ now; soul society ]

toshiro's fingers curled tightly around hyorinmaru's hilt. he had found you. just like he said he would. but you weren’t the same boy from the schoolyard.

you were...

an espada.

a runaway.

a traitor, technically.

and somehow now, the captain of squad four.

you sat lazily on the roof of the squad four barracks, one leg dangling off the edge, tossing deep purple grapes into your mouth and missing half the time. your robes were unbuttoned slightly, and a sword toshiro didn't know you had sat next to you, leaning on the shoulder you weren't using. your eyes, glowing faintly red from what he assumed was your lingering bankai power, lazily followed a jet-black butterfly drifting by.

toshiro hated how much he missed you.

“so, what's up? y' gonna stand there or actually say somethin'?”

your voice called down to him, you not bothering to look. you knew it was him, you always knew it was him.

toshiro's breath caught in his chest.

"i didn't wanna interrupt yer nap." he excused, mimicking that little slur you had always had.

"ohhh, 'shiro," you said with a dramatic sigh, "ya know I don't nap—i reccover. biiiiiig difference."

toshiro clicked his tongue but walked forward anyway. the metallic scent of blood always lingered around you. not in a grotesque way, just... always there. industrial. comforting, in a twisted way.

"i didn't come here for your jokes," he said, jumping up onto the roof to join you.

"nah, ya came here b'cuz ya missed me."

you turned your gaze on him fully for the first time.

and toshiro, in all his adult glory—taller, sharper, colder—felt fifteen again.

you smirked. but it didn't quite reach your eyes.

"what? nothing to say, 'shiro?" you teased, "cat got'cher tongue? or is it the fact that technically i'm a villain and yeh're havin' a moral crisis about wantin' ta kiss me?"

toshiro froze.

you have no right to be that accurate.

but that retort stayed in toshiro's mind. he knew better.

you stood up lazily, stretching, your reiatsu rolling off you like a high tide. your sword slid off your shoulder as you stood up, and you caught it in one hand and slipped it into its sheath on your waist. it thrummed faintly, resonating with blood.

memory.

pain.

"why are ya really here, toshiro?" you asked, voice softer now, "checkin' up on the runaway freak? makin' sure i'm healin' patients an' not drainin' 'em?"

"no," he said quietly. "i came because..."

you raised a brow, stepping a bit closer.

"because you promised me you wouldn't disappear."

you blinked. the smirk melted off your face.

"i..."

toshiro looked up at you now, snow falling around him like a halo.

"you promised me. in that courtyard. you said you'd protect me—even if you had to burn in hell forever."

you laughed, but it cracked and burned halfway through.

"yeah, an' you promised ya'd find me."

"i did."

the moment hung between you like a suspended breath.

your voice was barely even a whisper when you spoke next.

"so what now, hm?"

he stepped closer to you.

"now, i make sure you never disappear again.”

you didn’t respond.

you couldn’t. your heart was screaming. your sword pulsed furiously behind you like a second heartbeat.

you had always hated how damn quiet toshiro could be.

even as a kid, toshiro hitsugaya never needed to raise his voice to make you shake. he would just look at you with those too-old-for-his-age eyes and everything inside you would go still. back then, you thought he was fragile. you never realized how wrong you were.

now? he stood tall, composed, a captain with power that could ice over dimensions—and he was still looking at you as though you were the only thing worth melting for.

"so..." you rubbed the back of your neck, feigning nonchalance.

"ya gonna stand there like a tragic anime protagonist, or...?"

"i'm not the one standing on a roof like a starved and emotionally unstable vampire bat."

you laughed.

"that's fair."

there was a beat of silence.

toshiro glanced down at your sword.

"didn't know you had an actual zanpakuto." he said.

you looked down and touched her hilt.

"what's it's name? you heard it yet?"

you smirked.

"yeh. name's ketsueki no kyomei. used ta have a different one, ya remember her, 'shiro?"

he nodded.

"tsukihanabira no yoruzen... right?"

"yeah. ol' girl changed when i died. when i lost control, y'know? when i stopped being just one person."

your voice faltered, just for one second. toshiro didn't miss it.

you always were much too good at acting fine.

"i heard about that diagnosis. lieutenant kotetsu told me, she said it was dissociative identity disorder."

"mmm," you tossed another grape in the air and caught it between your teeth, "yeah. fun party trick."

"who am i talking to now, if i may ask?"

that one made you pause.

"ya really care?"

"of course i do."

you smiled again, but it was sadder this time.

"the main one. the tired one." you ranted shortly, "the one that remembers you."

"...i see."

you hopped down from the edge of the roof, landing silently next to toshiro. you were taller than him now. not by much, but it was still amusing to see. you leaned forward, eyes half-lidded, a grin curling sharp at the edges of your teeth.

"ya know, toto, ya used ta cling to me when it thundered."

toshiro's face turned red.

"th-that’s not—”

“ya'd hide behind my hoodie, 'shiro.”

he shot you a frosty glare.

“drop it, m/n.”

you laughed.

"nah, i won't. cuz i missed ya, fool."

and just like that, your voice cracked again.

it wasn’t loud, it wasn’t theatrical. it was just... real.

“toshiro, i missed ya so much it hurts.”

toshiro's expression softened instantly. he looked at you like you were a ghost he didn’t dare breathe too hard around.

“i know,” he whispered, “and i did too.”

that night, it rained blood.

it wasn't real blood—just your Bankai, leaking quietly into the atmosphere. you had fallen asleep in the squad four barracks, drenched in sweat, whispering fragments of your past to a wall that didn't talk back.

toshiro sat on the edge of your futon. he wasn't supposed to be there. captains weren't supposed to cling to their childhood best friends like they were lifelines.

but he sat anyway.

because the nightmares were getting worse. you kept calling for people who no longer existed.

"shiro," you cried, your voice cracking, "they're hurtin' you again, they-they're hurtin' you again."

and toshiro reached out with a shaking hand and brushed your damp hair back, whispering softly:

"i'm here, m/n. just as i promised."

the next morning, you were alone in squad eleven's dojo, training. of course you were. aggressive, lazy, gramatic—you had always coped by pretending to be fine with things that secretly drove you insane.

you were shirtless.

toshiro strolled in mid-spar and nearly tripped over his own damn feet when he saw it.

you turned and smirked.

"like what ya see, captain?"

he cleared his throat violently.

"just as i constantly tell rangiku: put something on, you idiot."

"nope."

toshiro glared at you.

you grinned, rolling your eyes wildly, but you still did throw a towel over your shoulder.

toshiro joined your little sparring session, but it didn't last too long. you could have kept going, but ketsueki got pissy when your heart rate spiked too hard for too long, and you didn't want to catch another nosebleed in front of mr. ice prince.

"yeh're actin' weird."

"i'm not."

"ya are."

"i am not."

"ya are, captain hitsugaya, sir."

he looked away.

"you aren't making this any easier for me."

"good," you grinned, "ya didn't make anythin' easy for me, either."

that cracked something in toshiro's wall of ice.

he stepped forward, sheathing his sword.

and then, suddenly, he was too close. your breathing stopped, and his did the same.

"you have to know something," he said, voice hoarse, "you have to know how hard it has been. seeing you again, after thinking i never would. and after remembering that day in the courtyard overe and over and over again and wondering—hoping that some part of you would remember it too."

your lips parted.

"i never forgot, 'shiro."

you were poised to say something else, but you never got the chance, because toshiro stepped forward and you kissed him.

the kiss was slower than you thought it would be.

no drama, no flourish. just the warmth of lips that had waited years. it wasn't hungry or desperate—it was careful, like he was learning how to breathe again and he didn’t want to get it wrong.

you kissed him again anyway.

because damn it, you knew the way his hands shook even when he looked calm.

you had always known.

when you pulled back, he was flushed, breath shallow, eyes glassy with something unspoken. your heart thudded once—loud enough to make your zanpakutō pulse against your hip.

neither of you said anything at first.

then, quietly:

“are you real this time?” he asked.

you blinked.

"wha?"

"are you real this time?" toshiro repeated, "because sometimes, in my dreams, you come back to me just like this. this exact thing happens, and then you turn to sand. or crack into ice and melt. or sometimes the whole scene turns into mist and you disappear.”

“…i'm real, 'shiro."

you grabbed his hand and pressed it over your heart.

“can you feel that? that's me. that's us.”

and he kissed you again—this time like he finally believed you.

later that night, you brought him to your quarters in squad four. toshiro had to admit, you lived modestly. no lavish futon, no expensive wall scrolls. just soft sheets, incense, and the faint hum of a medical ward that finally felt like home.

toshiro stood in the middle of your bedroom like he was waiting for someone to stop him.

you didn’t speak. you simply curled your fingers into his uniform collar and started undoing it slowly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

and his face turned bright red.

“i-m/n, i've never—” he started.

“i know.” you said softly, touching your finger to his lips.

then you paused, and your voice lowered.

"me neither. well, not like this."

he looked up at you. not just at your face—you. all of you.

"then... let's not rush it."

what happened next wasn't explosive. it wasn't wild. it was quiet, honest. raw.

your lips slid down the line of his neck like you were afraid he would vanish if you moved too fast. he touched your waist like he was anchoring himself in reality. when your clothes were gone, neither of you looked away. you wanted him to see everything.

the scars.

the exhaustion.

when you sank down together into your sheets, he buried his face in your chest as though he was ashamed of needing you so badly.

you simply ran your fingers through his hair and whispered softly into his ear.

"lemme take care o' ya, 'shiro. just this once."

he nodded.

so you did. you guided him.

gently.

patiently.

every motion was a question, and every sigh from his lips was a yes.

when he gasped—high and broken—you pressed kisses over his cheeks, his throat, his jaw. you held his hand. you whispered that he was beautiful. you told him you were proud of him.

his legs curled around your waist, and he whimpered something only you could hear:

“don't you ever leave me again.”

“i won’t, sweetheart,” you breathed, forehead to his.

and then you became one.

this union wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t silent. there were trembling breaths and soft cries and laughter when you bumped heads. there was a moment when he bit your shoulder, flustered, and you hissed, “careful, baby, I’m fulla' blood, 'member?”

and he laughed.

you had never heard him laugh like that. open, free.

real.

and in the quiet afterward, when he laid against your chest—bare, warm, and glowing with afterglow—you whispered the words he thought he’d imagined in a dream once:

“i told you I’d find you, and i did. just as i promised.”

the next morning, he tried to sneak out early.

you grabbed his wrist in your sleep and mumbled:

“stay.”

and for once, toshiro hitsugaya let himself be selfish.

he climbed back under the covers and kissed your temple...

you never saw the way he smiled into your skin.

a week later, you were in the middle of yet another absolutely ridiculous meeting with the gotei 13.

retsu unohana’s old position as the captain of squad four had taken you by surprise, yes. but in the few months since you’d officially joined, you’d made a habit of getting along with most of the captains.

well...

most of them. all but one.

toshiro.

you hadn’t seen him for two days, and to be perfectly honest, that absence stung like a broken promise.

you stood in the back of the room, arms crossed, barely keeping your face neutral as the captains argued over whatever the fuck it was this week. you didn't care, you had your mind elsewhere. the kind of elsewhere where you knew exactly what toshiro's neck tasted like, or how his hands felt when they slipped over your skin.

gods, m/n, focus.

but then—there he was. toshiro hitsugaya walked into the room, the familiar chill in his steps making the room seem even colder. his gaze flicked over everyone with that same icy precision, the sharpness you had come to adore. his voice rang out with authority, but you heard the hesitation beneath his words:

“sorry for the delay, but i’m here now.”

everyone acknowledged him, but you didn’t miss the subtle glance he cast your way. the one that made your heart skip. the one that spoke more than his words ever could.

this meeting dragged on, just the same way they always did. but it didn’t take long for things to start simmering.

by the time the session was nearly over, you couldn’t take it anymore. you stepped forward, interrupting the discussion.

“excuse me, captain hitsugaya,” you called out, tone light but cutting through the room like a knife.

toshiro stiffened.

the room grew quieter, and the other aptains watched, knowing full well your presence wasn’t usually this… forceful.

captains byakuya and rukia kuchiki noticed it particularly quickly, as did the ryoka boy—ichigo? his name was?

you shot a playful look at toshiro, one that didn't hide the sting of your absence.

"yeh've been avoidin' me, 'shiro, havent'cha?"

his eyes widened for the briefest moment, but he quickly corrected the malfunction.

"i—what?"

you could feel the heat creeping up your neck as you closed the distance between you two. it was playful teasing, but deep down, you were letting him see how much you needed him. how much he mattered to you—and how long you had spent holding back since you had returned to the soul society.

"well?" you pushed, leaning just a little closer, enough to speak low enough that only he would hear.

toshiro's icy exterior cracked. for a brief second, his usual cold stare melted, and he softened. he glanced around quickly, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden intensity of your presence in front of the other captains and lieutenants.

but you weren't done yet.

"ya can't hide behind that captain's title forever," you murmured, voice almost too low for anyone else to hear, tone teasingly perky, "what are ya so scared of?"

the entire room fell silent, watching in rapt attention as the two of you kept eyes locked, seeming to face off.

"i'm not hiding from you, m/n," he muttered, "i'm just trying to keep my focus."

you didn't buy it.

"i don't buy it."

toshiro stood there, his usual frozen-cold mask trying hard to hold on... but you could still see it. the warmth, the longing that had been building up since that night. since that first kiss.

and you wouldn't let him run away from it this time, either.

you leaned forward just a little more, close enough now that you could feel his breath on your face.

(and even that was cold. damn, he was good.)

"it's hard ta focus when yeh're too busy tryin' to ignore me. ya do realize that, yeah, 'shiro?"

toshiro inhaled sharply. his voice was quiet when he answered, but the underlying truth hit harder than any blade could.

“you are impossible,” he muttered, but the edge of his words was softer than you expected. and his lips—his lips quirked into that faint, playful smirk that you knew so well.

“only 'cause ya make it that way.” you grinned back, leaning in just enough to make him feel it.

the meeting ended quickly after, and you had no choice but to pretend you were still captain m/n, keeping your cool.

but the look toshiro shot you before he left the room? that look haunted you the rest of the day.

that night, though, things shifted.

it was like the storm between you had passed, and the calm was excruciatingly deafening. and yet, even you couldn’t fight the pull anymore.

yu found yourself in the squad four barracks late that evening, a shiver running down your spine as you stepped into your quarters.

and there, at the doorway?

him.

toshiro stood in the dim light, his posture casual—but you knew him too well. that stillness was a cover.

“yeh're here.”

you spoke softly, like this was normal.

like the distance you’d put between each other no longer existed.

“i had a few things to finish up,” he said, looking over at you like he wanted to say more... but he didn't. not yet.

it was you who bridged the gap between you both this time.

you took a step closer, slowly, carefully. when you stood in front of him, you didn’t speak; you didn’t need to. you just reached out—one hand sliding around the back of his neck, tugging him in as your lips brushed against his.

he shivered. it wasn’t the cold... it was you.

“stay with me, love,” you whispered against his mouth.

“just this once,” toshiro said, voice thick with something you both refused to name.

then—finally, you let him.

the air in your quarters had never felt so heavy, yet so right. toshiro was here—tangible, warm in a way that made everything else fade away. but the shadow of what had come before lingered just behind you both, threatening to tear apart what you had.

his fingers slid against your skin, cautious but insistent, a careful dance of restraint and need. his lips met yours again, deeper this time, a wordless confession you both refused to vocalize, but you could feel it—the desire and the pain. the unspoken truth was there, caught between the breath of every kiss.

you could feel the weight of his past, and yours, pressing against you both, but for now—this—was all that mattered.

“ya really think this'll work?” you whispered as you pulled back slightly, breath mingling with his in the dim light. the quiet of the room was almost deafening.

toshiro's lips curved ever so slightly into that familiar, unreadable expression. but you knew him better now. there was something different in his eyes—something warmer than the ice that had once defined him.

“maybe,” he murmured, his voice low and tinged with something soft you weren’t used to hearing from him. “but... I’ve always hated playing it safe.”

“good,” you smiled, your fingers tracing his jaw. “'cause neither of us've gotta anymore.”

he nodded slowly, as if considering your words. and then, just like that, he kissed you again—this time, with more urgency, more fire—as though the waiting, the distance, had been a cruel joke. you'd both been pretending for far too long, and now? well, now it was time to finally let go.

his body pressed against yours, and the room seemed to shrink around you both. his hands moved with purpose, tugging at your clothes, pulling you closer as if afraid you might slip away again. but even as his actions grew more desperate, there was a softness to them—a hesitation you knew all too well. you both wore the scars of too many years apart.

but you weren’t going anywhere.

“is this really…” he broke the kiss, his breath coming uneven. his hands hovered at your waist, not daring to pull you further, but you knew. he was terrified.

you grabbed his hand, pressing it against your chest. “this is everythin' i've ever wanted,” you breathed. “everythin' i promised i'd wait for.”

toshiro looked at you—deeply, intensely—as though he was searching for something. permission? absolution? or maybe it was both. his fingers twitched against you, and before you knew it, his lips were on your neck, pressing soft, heated kisses against your skin.

“don't…” he breathed, but the word was more like a warning. it was as if he was afraid of falling too far, of giving too much of himself away.

but you weren’t afraid anymore. not of him, not of the feelings you had buried so deep for so long.

you pulled him in, guiding him to you with a steady hand at his back.

“i'm not leavin', baby, not this time.” you whispered.

toshiro hesitated for just a moment more—long enough for his hesitation to send a wave of anxiety through your chest. but then his lips pressed onto yours again, and you knew it. he was finally done with waiting.

his hands roamed to your back, pulling you tighter against him, as if his very soul needed to bridge the gap. and you let him, letting your body sink into his as his hands slid under your shirt. every touch burned; every kiss ignited something you’d kept buried.

and then you were there—together in every sense. the world outside didn’t matter anymore. just him. just you. just this moment.

the next morning, the reality of what had happened still hung between you like the faintest whisper, but you didn’t pull away. you didn’t let the distance return. instead, you woke up with him beside you, the sound of his steady breathing grounding you as his arm rested over your waist.

you wanted to hold on forever...

but reality had a way of calling.

the soft sound of a knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts.

you froze. toshiro stirred beside you, but he didn’t move to get up. he simply stayed there, his arm around you as though the world outside didn’t exist. as though, for the first time, you weren’t captains, you weren’t in the gotei 13, and you weren’t at war with the past.

there was something raw in the silence. you both needed this. you both needed each other in a way that made everything else seem insignificant.

the knocking came again, more urgent this time. you cursed under your breath, then again out loud, loud enough for whoever had shattered the moment to hear. toshiro didn’t say anything, but his grip tightened.

“they'll want us back,” you murmured.

“i know.” he said. his voice was soft, resigned.

but you both knew this wasn’t over; it couldn’t be. not yet, not when so much of your history together had yet to be rewritten.

the next few days would be filled with the return of responsibility. there would be missions. uncertainty. the gotei 13 wasn’t a place for the kind of love you shared—not yet, not with this history—but you would fight for it. you had promised each other that much.

and so, when the next knock came, you stood and pulled on your uniform with a steady hand. but as you glanced back at toshiro, who was still lying in bed, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t name, you knew. this was just the beginning.

the rest of the world would wait.

toshiro hadn’t left your side for three days.

it wasn’t like the duties of the gotei 13 had simply ceased to exist; no, there was still paperwork, training, and the constant hum of battle threatening at the edges of the peace you had so longed for. But he was here, and so were you. together, in this strange cocoon of comfort that existed only when you didn’t have to think about anything else.

but this wasn’t just a fleeting moment. you could feel it in every quiet glance, every touch that lingered just a second too long. he wasn’t just a captain... not anymore.

and neither were you.

you had crossed a line, and neither of you could take it back. the question now was, what would come next?

the weight of your responsibilities hit hard the next day. the first knock on your door was the start of it all. you couldn’t exactly stay locked away forever, not even with toshiro.

by the time you left your quarters, toshiro was already at the training grounds, looking as composed and detached as ever—his ice-blue eyes betraying nothing but the faintest flicker of something different.

he didn't want to show it, but you knew. that was the thing about knowing someone for literal centuries. you eventually grew to read that person like a book, no matter how many pages they turned or how quickly.

"ya ready?" you asked, strolling over to him. your voice was quiet, but the air between you felt louder than anything else present in the entire soul society.

he nodded without a word, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. he wasn't hiding it quite as well as he thought.

"let's go," you whispered, pulling your zanpakuto from its sheath with a sharp motion. you could feel its pulse beneath your grip, a heartbeat of power that had long been your constant companion.

you could find no reason to hold back today.

toshiro unsheathed hyorinmaru with effortless precision, his form glowing with the usual beautiful, icy grace. even now, even after everything that had happened, he still had that ethereal, unreachable, untouchable air to him—but you could see the cracks in the facade.

toshiro's eyes lingered on you for a heartbeat too long before he spoke.

“don't hold back, m/n. i don’t need you to take it easy on me.”

you raised an eyebrow, feeling a smirk tug at your lips.

"never. not my style."

you took your stance, waiting for him to make the first move.

the silence between you both shattered as toshiro moved in an instant, the air around him freezing with every step. but you were faster, your zanpakuto cutting through the air with a resonance that sent a wave of power through the ground beneath your feet. your blood—your sword—was alive today, and you could feel it pulsing in time with your heart.

the clash of steel rang out, the sound sharp and crystalline. your blood, ever-responsive to the call of your zanpakuto, surged as you parried his strike, sending a burst of crimson energy back at him. he blocked, but the sheer force of your attack made him slide back a few paces. there was a flicker of surprise in his gaze.

“you've been holding out on me,” he muttered, but there was an edge of amusement in his tone.

“wouldn't dream of it,” you teased, before lunging at him with a savage overhead swing. your sword whistled through the air, trailing faint traces of red, but toshiro blocked it again, his body a perfect picture of controlled power.

it was a beautiful battle, a dance of two captains who knew each other’s moves just as well as they knew their own hearts. there was no need for words, not when the fight itself spoke volumes. you could feel the tension between you both—a pulse of something deeper than rivalry, something raw and real.

toshiro's strikes came faster, colder, the air around him growing heavier with each swing of his sword. it wasn’t just his ice that you were up against anymore. it was his emotions—the things he refused to say, the things he had locked away for too long.

you could sense it. the way he hesitated for just a moment longer than necessary. the way his eyes would catch yours, then quickly look away. he wasn’t just fighting you anymore. he was fighting something inside himself.

and that something, you realized with a shock, was you.

his breath came in shallow gasps now, and you pressed harder, your blood-wrought strikes pushing him further back with every blow.

“why are ya fightin' me, toshiro?” you asked suddenly, your voice low, cutting through the battle like a dagger.

his sword stopped mid-air, frozen, his gaze locking onto yours.

“ya know,” you continued, taking a step forward, “this isn’t just about strength. ya know what’s goin' on.”

he clenched his jaw. "i'm not fighting you, we're sparring."

his voice was a low growl, his eyes narrowed, yet there was something in them—something vulnerable—that you hadn’t seen before.

"ya are," you countered, closing the space between you. “an' yeh've been doin' it for so long, i don’t even think ya know how to stop.”

the tension between you was palpable now, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to hold its breath.

and then, without warning, toshiro's lips were on yours—rough, hungry, as though he couldn’t hold back any longer. hyorinmaru and ketsueki both clattered to the ground.

the kiss wasn’t gentle. it wasn’t soft. it was a culmination of everything—everything he had been fighting against. everything you had been fighting against.

when he pulled back, his breath was ragged. his eyes, usually so composed, were wild—raw.

“i'm not running from this anymore, m/n,” he whispered, the words heavy with meaning. "and i'm not going to let you, either."

you didn’t answer. you didn’t have to. you were already moving toward him again.

the moment his lips left yours, everything shifted.

toshiro pulled back with a gasp, his hand still cupping your face, his touch trembling just slightly as if the reality of what just happened hadn't quite settled in yet. but the heat between you, the magnetism pulling you closer, had already taken hold. there was no turning away from it now.

your chest heaved with the intensity of the kiss. you felt both alive and detached—like you were a part of toshiro and yet still worlds apart. the flicker of ice in his gaze was the only thing keeping you grounded. he hadn’t said anything, but you could hear it in the silence between your heartbeats: his confusion, his longing, his fear.

"i…" he started, voice shaky but resolute. "i’ve spent so long hiding from this. i didn’t want to be weak. not in front of you."

you pulse quickened at the way his words seemed to strike you directly in your core. “toshiro, yeh've never been weak."

his lips parted, a faint flicker of doubt clouding his usually icy demeanor.

"well, it felt like it. ii couldn’t protect you then. not like i promised.”

the weight of his words slammed into your chest like a physical blow, and for the first time in a long while, you found yourself unsure of what to say.

memories crashed through you in a flash—the promise he’d made all those years ago, the raw desperation in his voice when he’d swore that no matter what happened, no matter where life led you, he would always find you. no matter the distance, no matter the war, he would keep searching until you were back together again.

the way he’d held your hand before you were ripped apart, each word searing into your soul like a brand.

“i swear to you. i’ll find you. Even if i have to fight hell itself.”

that promise—that unwavering, ridiculous promise—had led him here. but it hadn’t been a perfect journey. there were things about it both of you hadn’t said out loud, things that you knew but never dared to speak.

you finally spoke, your voice quiet but certain.

“ya kept yer promise.”

he flinched at the words, his expression faltering. but before you could try to comfort him, before you could process the raw emotions swirling between you both, a loud crack echoed across the training grounds.

the sudden shift in the air made your senses spike immediately, your body already springing into defensive posture before you even fully registered the threat.

“did ya feel that?” you asked, voice dropping to a low growl.

toshiro's eyes sharpened, narrowing as his zanpakuto hummed with energy.

"yes, i did.”

another figure appeared at the edge of the grounds, their silhouette outlined in the shadows of the surrounding trees.

toshiro turned toward you, his gaze hardening once more. handing you ketsueki.

“stay close.”

the command was firm, but there was a hint of something else beneath it, something almost… protective. like he couldn’t bear the thought of you being hurt.

you nodded sharply, not taking your eyes off this dark newcomer. you instincts flared, and you could tell this wasn’t just some random soul. this was clearly an enemy—and they were no ordinary threat.

toshiro stepped forward, his blade already at the ready, the ice around him crackling in the air. he moved with the kind of fluid grace that only came from years of combat experience, his every step calculated.

you, on the other hand, were already taking stock of the situation, gauging your options. your hand tightened around ketsueki's hilt as your blood thrummed beneath your skin. whatever this was, you wouldn’t be caught unprepared.

the figure stepped closer, and your breath caught when you saw their face.

“aizen?” The word slipped from your lips before you could stop it, your stomach turning.

but the man before you wasn’t sosuke aizen. No, this was something much worse.

his long black hair was tattered, and his once-pristine uniform was torn and tattered. a hollow hole gaped open in his chest, dark energy swirling around him like a vortex. but it was the eyes that shook you to your core.

cold, dead eyes, full of malice and intent.

“i remember you two,” the figure spoke with a voice that seemed to echo in your mind. “the traitor and the one who swore to save him.”

the words hit hard. you and toshiro shared a glance, and there was a wordless understanding between you both. you had seen this kind of madness before—this wasn’t just any hollow or rogue. this was someone dangerous.

tooshiro sword gleamed in the moonlight, his usual ice-cold composure now sharpened with fury.

“get out of my way.”

the air around you crackled as toshiro surged forward, his zanpakuto striking with the force of a blizzard. but the other man countered, his own weapon—something dark and twisted—clashing with his in an explosion of energy.

you didn’t waste time. the second they locked blades, you were already moving, ketsueki no kyomei extending outward, blood surging through it like a river. you didn’t need to hear the command; she had already answered your call.

with a slash, you sent a wave of blood energy, sharp as glass, slicing through the air. the figure dodged, but not fast enough. you felt the satisfaction of seeing the crimson power cut through his defenses, but it didn’t stop him. he was still there.

“why do ya keep fighting?” you asked, your voice cutting through the air like a whip. “haven't ya learned anythin'?”

the other figure—a woman, evidently—hollowed-out eyes flashed, and the dark energy around him surged.

“i don’t need to learn this time, m/n l/n. this time around, i'm going kill you both.”

the moment the woman stepped into the courtyard, the temperature dropped—not because of toshiro's presence, but from the raw pressure of her intent. her reiatsu was like barbed wire laced with perfume: dangerous, seductive, and unhinged.

you tilted your head, blinking through the soft crimson fog still trailing your bankai.

"well, well, well. if it isn’t my favorite girl..." you purred fakely, your face twisting into an animalistic grin, "delusion wrapped in lipstick."

toshiro moved to your side, jaw tight.

"former captain retsuya… what are you doing here?"

her smile was venom wrapped in silk.

"toshiro hitsugaya." she purred, "you look even more breathtaking than i remember."

you took one long step forward, dragging the tip of your greatsword across the stone.

"ya here to flirt, lipstick? or do ya wanna die?"

she didn’t even flinch.

"i’m here to correct a mistake. " she snapped, "you were supposed to be mine, toshiro. not… this."

she waved at you like you were filth.

you chuckled lazily.

"jealousy ain't a good look on ya, sweetie. especially not when i'm prettier than you and your hairline seems ta be recedin' underneath all the pressure."

retsuya's spiritual pressure flared violently. her eyes burned furiously, and she took a step forward.

"bankai... yuki no arashi." she hissed.

her blade exploded into a storm of frosted needles, surrounding the field in a twisting blizzard. It clashed violently against toshiro's natural cold, the air freezing so suddenly your blood fog crackled midair.

you grinned, crimson eyes gleaming.

"seethe, my sister, and bathe in the blood of our enemies. scream into the void, in respect for the joy of the battle... " you whispered, smiling and taking one single step forward...

"...shukai, kyuketsuki no kyomei."

the field, once a bright, lush green, boiled and turned red.

the blood mist thickened, your aura erupting as the sword in your hands pulsed like a heartbeat. toshiro's eyes met yours for half a second. understanding passed silently between you.

your blade made the first move for you.

several dozen spears of wood formed and launched at you in rapid succession. you swung your greatsword with lazy, fluid arcs of deep, dark, murderous red—each slash melting the incoming projectiles mid-air, turning them to shimmering droplets of red ice.

retsuya shrieked, vanishing into flash step.

your sword gave you a turn, and your own reflexes finally took over. retsuya's blade grazed your side, drawing blood—but that was your advantage.

"why, thank you, princess," you purred, hand slick with your own crimson as you touched the cut.

threads of blood burst from your palm and shot out like barbed tendrils, snaking after her. she dodged the initial onslaught, but your blood had already marked her. a sickening snap echoed through the courtyard as the threads tightened around her wrist, dragging her back toward you like a fly into a spider’s web.

"my perfect, little blood puppeteer." ketsueki sang, a laugh overflowing with mirth shaking the ground, buildings and trees around the makeshift battlefield.

"wait just a moment, dear lady," you purred as she melted into form beside you.

"indeed," ketsueki hummed, grinning maniacally, "let us give toshiro a moment with his pretty little friend."

retsuya's eyes widened as her own arm turned against her, slashing at herself. she screamed.

"what a sorrowful sound..." ketsueki whispered.

"how beautiful..." you and she both whispered in unison.

toshiro appeared behind her in a blur of white and blue, his ice dragging her to her knees. his voice was cold, flat, lethal.

"you've clearly slipped through the cracks, hanatarabi retsuya. you tried to assassinate a captain... in front of another captain."

retsuya spat blood into the grass.

"i only did it for you!"

toshiro didn't even blink.

"then you have truly never understood me at all."

the ground cracked beneath her from the weight of your combined reiatsu.

she never stood a chance.

you smiled, raising your greatsword above your head.

"ah, 'shiro," you called, "ya might wanna come over here, hun."

toshiro obeyed swiftly.

you gave ketsueki one swing, dragging it downward through the air in one quick, fluid movement. the sky began to bleed, dark, perfect red directly above retsuya's head, and the blood coagulated into a massive, inverted cross. thunder shook the ground and skies, and the great cross crackled with power for half a moment before crashing down directly on top of retsuya's hopelessly restrained body.

"final garden..." you murmured, a cruel smile spreading across your blood-spattered face.

the dust settled eventually. the royal guard had been sent to the scene, and kirio hikifune herself had come along. when she saw what your blade had wrought, she wanted to take retsuya away—her final look one of disbelief and heartbreak, not at her fate, but at the sight of you and toshiro standing together.

but hanatarabi retsuya would never leave that spot. that little patch of now-dead grass would forever be her final resting place, and she would never stand on her feet again. her body had become a statue, half-melded with the perfect, mile-high gravestone ketsueki no kyomei had been so graceful of death as to give to her.

although in the eyes of some, she didn't even deserve that.

you sat on the edge of the courtyard fountain, fingers lazily dipped in water. the blood mist had cleared. you were tired—but not the sleepy kind. more the kind of tired that only came after finally realizing you weren’t alone anymore.

toshiro stood near you, hesitant.

"…you okay, m/n?" he asked quietly.

you looked up. "she was nuts, but not strong. i'm fine."

a pause. T=then, lighter, "unless yeh're offerin' to bandage me up personally. in which case—ow. my soul. it hurts."

his mouth twitched. "you are absolutely, entirely unbelievable."

you grinned. "ya love that about me."

he was silent.

then he moved... slowly. carefully. like someone stepping off a cliff on purpose. he sat down beside you, gaze locked to the moonlit water, and his voice was barely a whisper.

"you're still real… right? you're here, and not going to disappear again?"

you blinked. "toshiro, hun… you’re shakin'."

his hands were clenched in his lap.

"because sometimes i still have nightmares telling me you might melt away in my hands if i wake up too soon."

you reached out. and took his hand. your blood-slick fingers were warm against his cold ones.

"i promised, didn’t i?" you whispered. "that i’d come back, yeah? no matter what it took."

he didn’t speak again—not with words. his hand gripped yours tightly, desperately, and he turned toward you—

—and kissed you.

not with heat, but with intent. with the soul-deep certainty that you were real, and so was he, and this was something no twisted woman or war or separation could take from either of you again.

when your foreheads pressed together, breath mingling in the night air, you whispered,

"still scared?"

he shook his head. "just… still falling in love."

the aftermath came quietly.

the fourth division barracks—your barracks—had never felt more like home. the chaos of the attack was long behind you. the wounded were healed. the paperwork was... somewhere. probably buried under a stack of untouched memos because, let’s be honest, you hadn’t even pretended to do your job in somewhere close to three days.

nor had you given any explanation to anyone in a slightly higher seat of power than you as to how you had achieved shukai.

you were curled up on the garden bench behind the barracks in the moonlight, robe half-loose, blood-red hair tie dangling from your fingers. Somewhere above, a cicada hummed in the trees. the air was thick with the scent of chamomile and after-rain.

“shouldn't you be resting?”

you didn’t even jump. that voice had become as natural as breathing.

“shouldn't you be emotionally constipated somewhere else, beautiful?”

toshiro gave you a flat look as he stepped into view, hands behind his back. you smirked at him without looking, just enough to catch the faint flicker of amusement that ghosted over his features.

“i'm here to check on your injuries.”

“oh no. he's worried. be still my thundering heart.” you leaned back with an exaggerated sigh. “yeh're blushin', 'shiro. aren't ya blushin'?”

"i’m not blushing,” he said, but you were too busy pulling him down beside you to argue. he sat stiffly at first, spine straight, posture disciplined—until you leaned your head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

and he let you.

you closed your eyes. “i used to dream about this.”

he was quiet for a long time.

“…so did I.”

you looked up.

“i didn’t think ya remembered me,” you said, voice soft now, no teasing left in it. “after we died. after we got separated.”

he didn’t answer right away. when he did, it wasn’t with words.

toshiro reached into his inner pocket and pulled out something small and weathered. he handed it to you silently.

it was a button. a cracked, rusted, ordinary coat button.

your breath caught.

“that's from…”

he nodded. “from that day. in the snow. you remember.”

of course you remembered. the schoolyard fight. the blood in the snow. the promise he made through cracked lips and frozen breath. “i’ll find you. i swear i’ll find you again.”

you stared at the button in your palm.

“ya really kept it all this time?”

he turned toward you fully now, eyes stormy and direct.

“there’s never been a moment i wasn’t looking for you. even during the war. even before i knew your face again. even when you were just a member of the opposing side, just a tight, painful feeling in my chest i couldn’t name.”

your hand trembled slightly, but you reached for him anyway.

his fingers brushed yours. then, slowly, deliberately, his hand slid up your arm, your shoulder, your jaw—until he was cupping your face.

you leaned into it, lips parted slightly, eyes lidded.

when he kissed you this time, it wasn’t desperate like the courtyard. it was soft. reverent. the kind of kiss people write poems about and never get to live.

his hand threaded into your hair. yours clutched his uniform. the moonlit garden spun gently around you, full of night flowers and magic and breathless laughter.

“you're mine now, m/n,” he whispered against your lips.

you chuckled. “i've always been yers, sweet. ever since that damn snowball fight.”

toshiro's face went red.

“don't bring that up.”

you grinned. “ya cried, toshi.”

“i got hit in the face with a brick of ice, you psychopath!”

“it was slush!”

“it was cement with an identity crisis.”

you burst out laughing and fell backward on the bench, pulling him with you. he landed half on top of you, sputtering, and it was the best thing that had happened to you in centuries.

you stared at the stars above, fingers tangled in his hair.

after a long then, his voice returned, quieter this time.

“…you still tired all the time?”

you blinked. “huh?”

“you always used to say you were tired. even when you were smiling. and when you were fighting.”

you were silent. Then, honestly:

"yeah. i think… i think i’ve been tired since we died. since i had ta survive on instinct for so long.”

toshiro's hand found yours and squeezed.

“you don’t have to do that anymore,” he said.

your voice cracked. “ya promise?”

he kissed your knuckles.

“i'll protect you from everything, m/n. just as I promised.”

---------------- epilogue

the room was cloaked in the hush of late night, shadows stretching long across the floor, but all that mattered right now was this—the way your heartbeat mingled with his, the way your breath came shallow and ragged. you had been so close before, and so many times, but never like this.

toshiro's hands felt ffamiliar they always had been familiar—but now, in this moment, they felt almost otherworldly, as though the very air around you was charged with the energy of everything you had been through together.

his touch was gentle at first, as though testing the waters, his fingers tracing the lines of your body, seeking out all the places that made you shiver, the places that needed him the most. the sensation was too much, but never enough. you closed your eyes, letting the feeling sink in, as his breath tickled the side of your neck.

"toshiro..." you whispered, your voice heavy, breaking the tension.

toshiro paused, fingers coming still against your skin as he touched his forehead to yours, that ice-cold breath of his mixing with your ruthless warmth.

"do you want this?" he asked. his voice was raw, low, hesitant—fragile in a way that made something inside you fucking ache. he was usually so sure, so composed and controlled... but here, with you, toshiro was nothing but this tender, frozen-cold mess, a mix of desire and vulnerability. you had always known him as a soldier, a captain, someone who commanded attention without saying a word. but right now, in the dim glow of your bedroom, you saw him—the real him—something else entirely.

"yeah," you breathed, moving to pull him closer. desperate, as if you could never be close enough.

his eyes flicked to yours, searching for some sign that this was okay, that you weren't going to push him away.

and you didn't.

you learned into him, catching his lips with yours in a kiss so tender, so slow, it almost felt as though you were breaking something wide open.

he was careful about it.

too careful.

but your body knew that rhythm now, the way he responded to every small tug, every little stimulus, every quiet whisper. you kissed him harder this time, more urgently, as though you still couldn't quite believe this was real—that he was here with you in a way that left absolutely no room for doubt.

his hands gripped your shoulders, dragging you closer still, and the warmth of his skin made your pulse spike. he tasted like ice and fire, and the tension between you both was a constant, simmering pressure... just waiting to break.

and soon, it did.

toshiro's body was on top of yours, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress as he kissed you again—deep, needy, demanding. His hands roamed lower, fingers tugging at the waistband of your pants, and you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched, the way your body arched into his touch. you wanted him. you needed him.

toshiro, the ever-cold captain, was now a storm—his touches rough and desperate, his kiss an impossible hunger that made you dizzy. the rough fabric of his uniform scraped against your skin, and you wanted more—so much more.

you tugged at his collar, desperate to feel his skin beneath your fingers, desperate to feel him fully. his eyes flickered open at the motion, his breath catching. he didn’t speak, but you saw it—the way his gaze darkened with something fierce and wanting.

“i—” he started, voice a whisper, trembling.

“i don’t care,” you cut him off, your hands working quickly to remove his clothing. you didn’t need any more words. not right now. not when the silence between you both was loud enough, thick enough to drown out every other thought.

the room became a blur, your senses heightened by the feel of his skin against yours, his body pressed flush with yours. the only thing that mattered now was the sound of your heartbeats, the feel of his hands and lips on your body, and the way his name escaped your lips over and over like a prayer.

the slow, tender pace of it all made your chest tighten, the overwhelming weight of the moment threatening to consume you. but you wanted this—wanted him—so you let it consume you. you let him fall apart with you.

and when he finally moved to position himself over you, his body pressing into yours with slow, deliberate thrusts, you both found the rhythm. his lips brushed your ear as he groaned your name, a sound that sent heat straight to your core.

“tell me…” he gasped against your skin. “tell me you’re mine…”

the intensity of the words hit you like a tidal wave. you clung to him, feeling his body shudder against yours as he lost himself in the feeling of being so close, so connected to you.

“i'm yers, love,” you whispered back, tossing your head back into the sheets and moaning. your fingers trailed over his skin, feeling the tension and heat of the moment break with every passing second.

and in that moment, when the world outside ceased to exist, it was just the two of you. bodies intertwined, hearts synchronized in a way that no battle could ever bring. his name fell from your lips again, more breathless than before, as the final barrier between you both crumbled. his eyes closed as he let himself give in completely, his body stilling as he came apart, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

for a moment, there was nothing but stillness. the storm of emotions, desires, fears, and promises all melted into a quiet peace. you held him close, fingers tracing the lines of his back, feeling his pulse slow as you both lay together, tangled in the aftermath of it all.

“''shiro…” you whispered, your voice tender, like a prayer.

his response was soft, his voice barely more than a breath against your ear.

“i promised, didn’t i? and i’m keeping that promise.”

and in that moment, you knew that, no matter the world’s chaos, no matter the battles to come, he would always be there, just like this. holding you. loving you. promising you.

forever.

#~ | posting #~ rhykar #《 rhy writes ♡#bleach #x male reader #anime x male reader #bleach x male reader #bleach tybw #bleach fanfic #toshiro hitsugaya #toshiro hitsugaya x male reader #bleach men x male reader #x male reader smut #anime x male reader smut #romance fiction

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uwmspeccoll · 3 months ago

Text

Steamy Saturday

". . . torn between love, nursing and . . . world championship surfing."

". . . endless summers on the beaches of the world."

"Caught between two men. . . ."

". . . pulled by conflicting desires more dangerous and turbulent than the pounding surf. . . ."

". . . wild, headstrong, his animal magnetism undeniable."

". . . his fingers moved further down her back to stroke the smooth cleft above her bikini."

". . . the possessive young surfer . . . now held her so hard and so close."

Sounds like pretty steamy stuff! But you know nurse romances: the profession always takes priority. In this case, however, it's not only about nursing, but also about the world of competitive sport. Surfing Nurse by Diana Douglas, published in New York by New American Library in 1971, is part of a sub-genre of nurse romance novels we hold in Special Collections: the athletic nurse romance, where competitive sport (surfing, swimming, skating, skiing, horseback riding, etc.) plays an equal role in the narrative to nursing and romance.

Kara Simmon is a professional nurse at a Los Angeles hospital, but more importantly for this novel, she is also a champion California surfer under the mentorship of Paul Denning, who just happens to be a surgeon at her hospital and the man she secretly longs for. Kara is off to the world championship in Australia, but Paul must remain behind because of his job (hmm, what about Kara's job?). Enter Paul's conceited and uber-competitive surfing brother Ross, who tries everything in his power to seduce her. But, too late, as he's partly devoured by a shark. Heroic nurse Kara saves the day, however. Nevertheless, Ross will never surf again.

Paul quits his job, heads to Australia, and takes his brother's place in the competition while also coaching Kara. In the end she wins the championship, and in the final lines, Paul's heart also: "she'd always want to surf with Paul at Malibu." Heartwarming.

Diana Douglas is a pen name used by Richard Wilkes-Hunter (1906-1991), an extremely prolific writer from New South Wales, Australia. Under this name he wrote nurse romance novels, but he also used at least a dozen other pen names to write romances, westerns, spy novels, war adventures, and pornography. The cover art, with nurse Kara in full nurse regalia by the surf, is by noted pulp-cover artist Allan Kass (1917-2005).

View other nurse romance novels.

View other pulp fiction posts.

#Steamy Saturday #pulp fiction #nurses #nurse romances #nurse romance fiction #nurse romance novels #romance novels #romance fiction #pulp novels #Diana Douglas #Richard Wilkes-Hunter #Surfing Nurse #A Candlelight Romance #New American Library #cover art #Allan Kass #surfing #surfing competition #athletic nurse romances

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softboo · 1 year ago

Text

love me, ever so gently - part IV

pairing: austin x reader

summary: you recently moved to a new apartment, making some new eccentric friends along the way. but what you didn't expect was falling in love with a stranger. a stranger you somehow couldn't stop thinking about

words: 4.8k

warnings: depictions of alcohol, certain scenes that pertain to dark themes of domestic abuse in relationships, *minors please don't interact*

author's note: hiii here is the next part of the story... i genuinely have no words to describe how grateful i am that there are people out there who have fallen in love with this story as much as i have. i'm still debating whether or not i'll write more just because i still want to live in this world lol. but thank you so much for all your support. it really means a lot to me and i am forever grateful :3 hope you enjoy <3

previous part

part IV

you groaned as you woke up, yet again, to a blaring headache and the door being pounded on. and you couldn't figure out which one was coming from where. you slowly eased yourself up out of bed, which made you feel even worse, shuffling yourself along for a million years before you answered the door.

"wow... you look like you got hit by a bus again."

george's voice rang in your ears. you could've sworn you had your eyes open, but it felt like they were closed. you tried to glare at him, but everything in your face felt numb. cassandra and evelyn caught up with him and both exchanged a look of concern.

"george, i think we need to talk to her alone."

he glanced over at cassandra and then back to you, the joy in his eyes disappearing for a brief moment. he just nodded in response, obliging without fighting them. you suddenly felt this wave of emptiness as you saw him walk away, whispering to cassandra before leaving.

and a part of you wished you never heard it, but you did.

"get our favorite girl back. i don't see her anymore."

~ ~

the silence hung low between the three of you, as you swirled your spoon meaninglessly in the mug. you glanced down at yourself, feeling as if you've sat here before in this exact situation just a few days ago. but then again, when have they not tried to get you out of your apartment.

"my love, i think it's time for you to move on." cassandra began, her soothing tone compensating for the bluntness of her statement. you just aimlessly nodded to her request, which was something she grew familiar with after the third or fourth day.

your empty promises were piling up and it was only a matter of time before it actually had to have meaning behind it.

"come with us tonight to the movies," evelyn suggested, offering her hand for you to take. "it'll be a great way for you to get your mind off of him."

your heart sunk even deeper when they mentioned him again, that night flooding your thoughts as you were reminded of what was going to happen tomorrow. it was inevitable.

she was inevitable.

"please love, you need to get out of this apartment. you can't just stay here and wait until they come back."

you scoffed at such a thought, thinking of what a sight that would be seeing them come back together from the airport, pretending you were preoccupied with anything else that wasn't him.

evelyn's hand still laid on the table, waiting patiently for you to reconsider the option of coming. of just going with them for once instead of drowning yourself in another day of being alone.

you hesitated for a moment, glancing at cassandra and then to evelyn. the thought of him being reunited with her made your heart sting, but you knew being physically here when they did arrive would ultimately make you feel even worse.

so you took everything in yourself to consider the possibility of actually being okay again.

and you slowly let your hand fall into hers and gave the smallest smile in the world.

"okay. i'll go."

~ ~

"are you ready sweetie?" cassandra called back to you, as the three of them waited outside of your apartment.

you checked your reflection once more, letting your hair flow freely and naturally down to frame your face. and a maroon dress that cassandra and evelyn insisted that you wear.

and for the first time in weeks, you felt beautiful, elegant, and untouchable. like all those days of being alone and rumminating on your feelings dissipated into nothingness behind you.

like heartbreak anniversaries were no longer written on your calendar.

you stepped into some heels before meeting them at the door, blushing immensely as they looked at you.

"there's our favorite girl."

george's voice broke a little as he dramatically wiped his eyes for tears that weren't there yet. cassandra walked towards you, her hands taking yours as she gently caressed your cheek and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"you look lovely sweetie," her voice giving you a familiar comfort to your heart.

"so do you," you smiled back as you all gazed at everyone's attire.

george insisted on wearing something formal, wanting to make your little outing a special occasion. according to him, it was a great excuse to wear his suit again. and according to cassandra, it was the only suit he owned, which was from their wedding day.

"alright you old folks, let's go!" george bellowed, letting out that same laugh from when you met him for the first time. cassandra smacked him in the arm before he responded with a sweet kiss on her cheek. evelyn offered her arm for you to hold as you all went downstairs.

and you didn't even look at his apartment.

~ ~

"you have everything right?" cassandra asked george, who was very insistant on being responsible for the tickets. the showing was for one of their favorite old hollywood movies, you weren't sure which, but you were as excited as them to see it.

when you all entered the old theater, the employees shot you a complete and utter face of confusion as you all roared into the empty area wearing the most elegant attire. not many people knew of the showing, which was why the entire theater was relatively empty.

as you all settled into your seats, a sudden wave of calmness came over you as it started to sink in that you weren't there to just forget about him. you were there to spend time with your friends as well. their voices echoed in such a big theatre, not even minding the few stares and looks they got from some of the people there.

"george you're stepping on me again."

"can you pass the popcorn please? no, i want the whole bucket."

"evelyn, i can't see anything. what are you pointing at?"

it wasn't long until the lights completely disappeared and you were swallowed by the darkness that surrounded you in the theater, all of you eager and excited for the film to begin.

that calmness and comfort slowly took over and you suddenly felt at ease with being there, with your friends, and the world you were going to enter inside that movie theater.

~ ~

"goodnight everyone!" you echoed from the top of the staircase. you vaguely heard a reply from evelyn who was on the second floor as the other two were already calling it early. you waved frantically at evelyn from the bottom, who mimicked that same overdramatic wave from the movie. you couldn't help but laugh.

"go to bed already! i want to sleep!" she screamed back at you, flashing a smile at your little figure from above.

you gave her one final goodbye wave for the night, feeling like an entirely new person after spending time with them. you couldn't even stop smiling as you replayed the little remarks all of you made after the movie ended. the way evelyn was so certain of her theory, while george laughed at how the romance didn't make any sense. and cassandra, she fell in love with the film as much as you did.

as you stopped at your floor, your heart dropped from your chest.

austin was there, sitting outside his door like he'd forgotten something. his hair looked disheveled, the blonde messiness matching his loose tie and unbuttoned dress shirt. it was the first time you'd seen him since that night, the memories drowning you in an endless sea.

"hey, are you okay?"

he looked up to find who spoke and you saw those oceans come alive once more, like a second home to your heart. his expression was as shocked and confused as yours, his eyebrows furrowed to try to make sense of you actually being there. after so many days of avoiding him, he had the right to contemplate if your existence was even real to him.

"yeah, i'm okay."

there was an emptiness there and something pulling at your heart. you didn't believe him.

"can i join you?"

"of course," and he moved over for you to sit next to him on the floor. his doormat being a cushion you were both sharing.

"you look nice... did you go somewhere?"

his low tone still sent ocean waves through your body, like he was inviting you all over again. something you convinced yourself for days that you never needed, but somehow he still had a hold on your heart. and you melted right into his hands.

"oh, thank you," your voice merely a whisper in the air, "i came back from the movie theater."

austin looked at you amused, a small smile forming.

"you wore a formal dress to the movies?"

you nodded, "yeah, because i wasn't feeling like myself for the past few days."

it was like you struck a chord in him because he turned to look at you, wanting to figure out what was making you feel that way. but he didn't know how to ask.

"and how do you feel now?"

"better."

something in the way you held yourself in that regard, knowing when to pick yourself back up. he admired that about you, wishing he could maybe do the same.

there was a shared silence between you both before he spoke again.

"do you remember that night... in your apartment?"

you felt everything inside you go numb as he mentioned it. because no matter how long you tried to forget that it happened, he remembered for you.

"yes..."

he let out a soft sigh, as you noticed the way he tensed up a bit. stiffening his stature and playing with the cloth of his dress shirt.

"did you really mean what you said? about my girlfriend..."

you closed your eyes at his statement, the way she still lingered between you two. you mustered up that same strength from before, a lie you repeated to yourself because he wasn't yours to begin with.

"yes, i meant it. she's lucky to have someone like you in her life."

something about you saying it again didn't seem to convince him at all.

"you say that but i don't feel lucky."

you turned to him, looking at his prominent expression of utter defeat. like he'd given up on something. you could see the oceans drying out in his eyes.

"what do you mean?"

and it was like he felt his bruises again, clutching his torso like he was protecting himself. he couldn't look at you.

"austin?"

you saw him soften a bit when he heard your voice, letting it sink in that he was here with you and not her.

you hesitated for a moment, knowing fully well you were going to overstep a boundary and meet him at the bottom of the ocean.

"does she hurt you?"

you felt your heart speed up in anticipation for his answer. he met your gaze for a split second before both of you turned to the elevator, hearing its normal ding.

and out came the last person you wanted to see.

his girlfriend walked out with her long dark red hair flowing effortlessly behind her. she was carrying her bags and screamed when she saw him.

"austin my love!! surprise!! i came back early!!"

a squeal that stung at your ears as she dropped her bags and flung herself into him, ultimately pushing you to the side. she eagerly covered him in messy kisses, like she was marking territory.

like she was marking property.

when she finally let go and austin gave her a weak smile, she eyed you with a suspicious look on her face. that somehow you offended her by merely your presence.

"i didn't realize there was help working late at night."

you clenched your jaw at her sudden assumption of your position. a fire igniting once more inside your chest and you wanted her to walk right through it.

"she's not an employee." austin stated firmly, his face tightening at her insult.

your eyes widened at him and how he held his ground when defending you.

"she's my—"

"well love, whatever she is, she has no purpose in staying here with you. let alone, no reason to be in your life."

she flashed you that creepy little grin that stretched too far on her face, pulling austin closer to her, tightening her grip thinking if she ever gave him a chance to breathe, he'd escape.

"not sure where you belong sweetie, but it's definitely not here."

she purposely shoved you to the side, dragging austin along with her. soon enough, she slammed the door on your face like last time.

and all that was left were her forgotten bags in the hallway, the blinding rage boiling inside of your heart, and the fire that lingered near the ocean.

~ ~

you stared at your ceiling, thoughts racing in your head of what you could've done. what else could you have said. you glanced over at your clock, sighing in disappointment as the numbers barely changed. it was exactly eleven minutes since you last checked, now reading a dreadful 2:16am.

you hated this feeling, of wanting to do something but not being able to. of wanting to save him from something that you knew he had to save himself from. cassandra's words from before rang right in your ears again:

are you doing this because you care about him or because you like him?

did there really have to be a difference?

you felt so frustrated that somehow after two weeks, he still had a space in your heart. no matter how many times you let the alcohol numb you sometimes or how many times you stayed in your apartment watching reruns of your favorite movies and shows.

it all ended the same. your heart was screaming at you for it.

and yet, just when you finally had a chance to drift off into sleep, you heard a noise.

you sat up quickly, facing where the sound came from. you glanced down at the clock, which barely moved, now reading 2:20am. you slowly lowered yourself back to bed dismissing the sound until it repeated again, multiple times.

it was a knock, faint but you knew what you heard.

you slowly got up from your bed, walking slowly to the main door, hearing that faint noise again. there was an occasional loud sound, but the smaller ones were more consistent.

as you slowly approached the door, it was like the stranger on the other side heard your footsteps and for a moment, you heard the sudden weight of something leaning on the door. you froze, but soon enough you heard the faintest voice in the world.

"i don't know if you're awake... but if you are, it's austin."

your eyes widened when you heard his voice, quickly opening the door for him.

and you saw him, dressed entirely in black. his hoodie covering his face a bit and his sweats covered in something that you couldn't really see. his breath stopped for a moment as he saw you, his entire body suddenly relaxing into you. his head falling on your shoulder as if his body was about to give out, his face nuzzling right at your neck.

and you felt this overwhelming wave of warmness hit you, not being able to hide the blush that appeared on your cheeks.

"i... i didn't know where else to go..."

your breath hitched at the realization. at the worst possible scenario. because everything you were thinking about was true. because it happened. and he was all the proof you needed.

you quickly shut the door behind you as he leaned right up against you. you wanted to be so careful with him, being in such a fragile state. you thought about putting him in your bed, but he couldn't hold himself up much longer and soon enough, he collapsed onto the floor leaning up against the door.

"i'm so sorry for..."

"you don't have to be sorry for anything austin... really. i mean it."

he just nodded, wincing at the minimal movement he made with responding to you.

you sat with him, gently taking his hood off from his face and bracing yourself to see what he had to endure before seeing you.

and you felt the tears come as you saw what was left of him.

his eyes were swollen, bruised. he had cuts all over his face that somehow went down his neck. there were more bruises down his arms and a decent amount of blood coming from each and every little scar that decorated his body.

but what made you feel even worse was the lack of water in his eyes. there were no longer raging oceans swimming with life or the blueness that covered the endless body of water. it was empty. dry. like a desert.

and yet, when he saw you looking at him, truly looking at his scars and still trying to find the beauty in him, he couldn't help but give you the smallest smile in the world. he noticed your eyes water and gently grazed his thumb on your cheek to wipe it away.

"don't cry... i'm going to be okay, i promise."

you wanted to hate him, that somehow even when he's the one holding all these bruises and scars, he still had the strength to comfort you.

but you couldn't hate him. not one little sliver of anything inside of you could hate him.

~ ~

austin woke up slowly, his head pounding in his ears as he rubbed against his temple. he had to blink a few times to realize that he wasn't in his own apartment at all. and somehow he fell asleep on the floor. he tried to get up, but noticed a shadow of someone next to him. and it was you.

and the moment he saw you, everything from last night came rushing through him. the stumbling into your apartment, the way you complimented his cologne, you kicking him out from trying to help you change, and the last thing you said to him before he drifted off to sleep.

"your girlfriend is so unbelievably lucky to have you."

it was something that should've initially made him feel grateful because it was true... wasn't it? so then why did it feel like his chest was suffocating on air?

the memories and the alcohol were mixing together, he couldn't make sense of his emotions. what all of this meant to him.

but what he did know was how much you meant to him. he just couldn't decide where you stood in his life yet.

he found it quite amusing that you wanted him to leave, that you were very adament that he couldn't sleep here. and yet, you collapsed right beside him on the floor.

he checked his phone briefly, a bright 4:32am appeared on the screen. he knew he couldn't stay here, but he also knew it would be rude to leave you on the floor.

and so, he gently crouched down next to you and tucked his arms right under you, lifting you up. making sure your head was leaning on his chest, he slowly walked towards your bed and laid you there under the blankets.

he looked at you for a moment before leaving, letting it sink in that you might not even remember where you fell asleep.

and a part of him hurt when the thought crossed his mind.

~ ~

"george... can i ask you something?" austin began as they finished packing up evelyn's cooking supplies from her latest class. george beamed at him, leaning against the boxes on the counter, waiting patiently for him to continue.

"of course elvis my boy! you can ask me anything!"

he hesitated before speaking, thinking it was too invasive to ask, but he had to know if what he was feeling was normal.

or if he was genuinely crazy.

"how did you know... you wanted to marry cassandra?"

george stared at him, his eyebrows furrowing to a point. the question took him off guard, something he never quite expected from austin, but he couldn't help smiling at the thought of his wife and how they first met.

"well..." his voice drifted to piece together all the right words, "i knew i wanted to be with her for the rest of my life when she took me as i am."

george's loudness became merely a softness when he spoke about cassandra and austin could feel that sense of love radiating off of his friend. george began animating his life with her, the way she always seemed to be there whenever he spoke about his passions, and how cassandra fully accepted him as himself.

"usually, people say they drift apart during a marriage because their partner changed. but for me, i just wanted to be there through every changing moment."

george gave him a warm smile, as his words weighed heavy in austin. he lingered on the thought, the possibility of fully letting himself dive into those waters. letting his heart sink into something completely unfamiliar, knowing somehow, somewhere, you would be there sitting with him right at the bottom.

willingly. voluntarily.

along with something else he wasn't ready to face yet, nor was his heart ready to resurface among calm waters.

"thank you..." austin drifted, his voice shrinking smaller and smaller as it disappeared into the walls of the kitchen. it wasn't long until he pulled george into a warm hug, fully appreciating the story his friend shared.

"anything for my boy, you know that."

george's voice slightly broke, feeling as if austin wasn't being fully honest with him or to himself rather. like there was something else hidden under those waters.

it wasn't long until george broke the kind gesture, holding austin firm right on the shoulders, a reminder of his strength. that there was something in austin that he wasn't yet ready to face.

"you're still going to the movies with us right?"

austin blanked at his question, scrambling for the words to answer. he wasn't sure if he should, but he knew that this was his only chance to see you before she came back into his life tomorrow.

that there was a sliver of a possibility that you would be sitting next to him again.

he let out a soft sigh and smiled.

"of course i am."

~ ~

she pulled austin, hard, her face burning with a fire that dried out the oceans in his eyes.

"and you had the nerve to make plans on the day i was coming back."

"i didn't ask for you to come early."

her emotions were boiling over now as she pushed him against the door, her face contorting into a scowl.

"and what does she even have that i don't? what's wrong with me then?"

she paced around the kitchen now, grabbing whatever glass container they had and throwing it on the ground. each one breaking into tiny little pieces.

and all austin could do was stand near the door and take it.

"tell me what's wrong with me then austin. TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG."

her screams echoed across their apartment, drowning him in an endless noise. he clenched his jaw as he mustered enough energy to say something back. because anything would be better than nothing.

"you never fell in love with me. you fell in love with my name."

she paused, her red hair messily laid behind her. her hand gripping the last few glasses they had left as she aimed it right at austin.

"your name? bullshit, i've been there through everything. you're MY everything. she's NOTHING."

"but you don't know anything about me."

and he knew he struck a chord when her eyes began to water. she screamed at him again, a high pitched screech that killed his ears. she threw something else at him, but it didn't matter. he wasn't looking anymore.

she approached him now, holding whatever else she could find to use against him.

"and what makes you say that austin?"

she scrambled to find anything as leverage to use against him, to show she still had power over him.

but she didn't.

"because you never chose me. and i will always choose her."

~ ~

you gently pressed the wet towel against his forehead, soaking up whatever was left of his scars. he closed his eyes to your touch, letting you take control of everything. your legs tangled into each other as you sat together on your bed.

there was something so natural with the way you took care of him, bandaging his wounds, and icing the bruises on his skin.

like you'd been doing this for years.

and he would let you do it forever if he could.

"austin?"

"yes?" his eyes fluttered open to your voice.

"you're not going back there with her right...?" your voice merely just a whisper, feeling as if your words were passing a boundary.

a boundary that you didn't know no longer existed.

he shook his head no, smiling weakly, still trying to remain strong in front of you.

"then stay with me."

your heart speaking faster than your mind could catch up and you panicked at the words. you were so preoccupied by how embarrassed you felt that you didn't notice how red austin had gotten as well.

"i mean... you can sleep on the bed and i can take the couch," you quickly corrected yourself and austin let out a small laugh. something you haven't heard in weeks.

"it's okay, i can take the couch. this is your apartment after all."

there was a calm silence between you two, as you slowly finished placing the last bandage on, pressing the adhesive gently on his skin. and as you leaned back to fully look at him, you could still see the marks that she left behind on him, even when you tried to cover it.

she still lingered in the air between you.

and because of that, your eyes began to water again.

austin quickly reacted, seeing the way you moved away from him. like you were afraid to break him.

"what's wrong?" his voice wavering as you searched through everything to find the right things to say. to find anything to say.

"i just... i don't understand people who hurt people, especially when it's someone like you."

the way you reacted swelled something in his heart and all he could think about was finding a way to comfort you. to take your pain away.

and so, he pulled you towards him, where you were tangled up into each other again. pain shot down through his body at the effort, but he didn't care. he just wanted to ease your pain.

his hand reached your cheek, gently placing a strand of hair behind your ear. and he leaned in to take away the distance between you two, as his lips met yours.

and he kissed you.

the kiss was so soft, so comforting. and you melted right into him like your heart had always wanted to for all those months, since the first time you met him.

he pulled you closer to him, as if there was even a sliver of something keeping you two from being together. he held your face in his hands, easing himself into you gently.

he was so afraid to hurt you, but there was something about the way you explored him, the fragility of your touch against his skin. it felt so unfamiliar yet comforting to his heart.

and yet, it broke yours.

he let himself get lost in you, the warmness surrounding him as you caught every little drop of water from falling into the abyss at the bottom.

the way your fingertips grazed each and every little scar, every bruise, like you were reassuring him. acknowledging its presence but knowing, it would never define him.

you slowly let go, fully gazing into his eyes and seeing those oceans coming alive again, just by the way he was looking back at you. and you saw something that you only wished to see months ago.

love.

his fingers wiped the remaining tears from your cheeks as yours just traced little circles around his, ending right at his lips again. your bodies tangled into each other once more, as you played with his hair.

he closed his eyes again to your touch and you saw him smile.

and it was one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen.

he gently caressed your cheek, gazing at you like he was afraid to lose you. like he was afraid to forget you.

"stay with me... please."

his voice wavered, as if he doubted that your heart would ever let you leave him.

"always."

#austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler #fic writing #romance fiction #well fuck #fuck my feelings #fuck i hate him so much

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