#also anxiety I’m so scared to tag people | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

Text

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 5.2 k Summary: Yup it’s König with a Virgin!Nun!Reader folks. This is all @wordstome 's and @melancholic-thing 's and their König & religion post's fault! :( Tags/warnings: PINING. Eventual smut, eventual blood & minor injuries. A cute, sweet, silly story with undertones of religious despair. Watch out for possible mistakes concerning Catholicism, I was more interested in the forbidden love trope.

Part 1

You don’t know how it even happened, but you became friends with a foreign man visiting your city.

You bumped into him one day. Literally bumped into him, or then he bumped into you; you’re not entirely sure who’s to blame here, but you would’ve fallen to the ground had he not grabbed you by the arm and hauled you back up and against him.

It was just to prevent you from hurting yourself, but your mind short circuits for a moment when you’re pressed against the broadest chest you’ve ever seen. The man is tall, so tall you have to crane your neck to see who has such lightning-fast reflexes.

Worried eyes look down at you from above, but the man’s expression softens when he sees how frightened you look.

“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

He starts to fuss about being in such a hurry without any particular reason and asks if he can make this up for you somehow.

Could he offer you a lunch or something? No, how about a drink? He’s truly so sorry.

His accent is charming, and the genuine regret and worry make you quickly judge him as a safe enough person to grab a coffee with. Accidents happen, and it’s not illegal to sit down with a man you just met, right?

You tell him you don’t drink drinks, but a coffee would be nice. The man raises an eyebrow when you reveal to him that you’re not only a teetotaler, you’re also a nun.

“Ah… So you prefer a simple life?”

He takes you to a dark, cosy cafe around the corner. His inquiry leads to a conversation on the joys of silence and simplicity, then on philosophy, faith, and the cons of modern life. By the time he grabs you a table for two, you’re already discussing how people are always on their smartphones nowadays, looking for instant gratification and pleasures and how it wrecks their brains. You both gush about how nice it is to steer away from all that.

You find yourself talking to him with ease about your life choices. How the anxiety reached a point where you wanted to get away from all the fuss, and how much peace this solution has brought you. How you have meaning and purpose these days, and how you doubt you’d be able to adjust into a modern society anymore. He gets what you mean immediately, saying he only feels at home when he’s alone in the mountains. How he’s been alone his whole life, really, and that it doesn’t scare him anymore, on the contrary.

You feel warm and safe with him, lost inside a soft bubble you quickly create in the corner table of a cellar cafe. Perhaps it’s the dimly lit environment or perhaps it’s just him, but you have one of the deepest conversations ever with this mysterious man.

He’s attentive and curious without being your usual pervert on the sly. You’ve had enough of men looking at you like you’re the forbidden fruit after hearing about your life choices.

This man doesn’t try to seduce his way into your pants; he listens to your insights and agrees with you on how silence does you good, especially in times like this. You wonder what he does for work and why he’s here because clearly, he’s not local. You never get to ask him because the conversation ends far too quickly.

He receives a message on his phone, cruelly reminding you that the magical bubble has burst and you’re back in the modern world. He looks crabby about the interruption too, especially when he says he has to go.

You both agree that you had a nice talk and should continue it sometime – why not tomorrow? Same time, same place.

So you meet him again.

And again… And again.

You find out he’s in town for at least two weeks, but when he finally reveals what he does for work, your stomach sinks. He tells you he’s working for some private military contractor and can’t really share any details about his work. When you ask him does this mean that he kills people for money, he falls silent.

“I guess you could put it like that.”

He’s looking at his shoes when he says it, somewhat embarrassed or sad. His feet barely fit under the table, so he has them stretched out, leading to a waitress almost tripping on them one day. Your heart is squeezing inside your chest when he rises immediately and apologises like the perfect gentleman, helps the lady up and never gets insulted by the murderous glares the woman shoots at him.

He gives you his codename, König, and that he comes from Austria, but then refuses to share any other personal details. You don’t even get to know his first name. You do talk about your childhood, you talk about your schools and what you were supposed to become when you grew up. He tells you about his love for hiking, and you tell him about your dance hobby.

The usual “Oh? Nuns are allowed to dance?” comment has you laughing.

“Well… I don’t do twerking, but yes, nuns are allowed to dance.”

“What’s ‘twerking’?”

It’s so funny how you seem to know about modern trends more than him. You know about Tinder and TikTok through your friends; it’s just that these things are really not for you. Still, this König knows even less about dating apps and internet challenges than you.

It makes you intrigued: he could have dozens of women right now if he wanted to. And not only because he’s attentive and kind: he’s so big and tall that most women would beg him to whisk them away. All he needed to do was go to a hookup site and deal out some likes.

Most of his muscles are packed in the shoulders and chest area, making it challenging for him to fit through a door. You can see he hasn’t skipped a leg day either, and immediately chastise yourself for checking out his butt in the coffee queue. You ignore your filthy thoughts of wanting to get pressed against those pecs again, you pay no attention to the fleeting musings on how good that short stubble would feel against your neck if he ever chose to kiss you there.

A soldier and a nun make an odd pair, but you find yourself enjoying his company more than anyone elses. He seems to wait for your meetings with eager but polite enthusiasm, too. You know it’s an attempt to make you forgive his choice of career when he reveals to you that his best mission was when he saved thirty women from sex trafficking. And it does make your heart crack open a little. Killing is a sin, but he has tried to protect life in his own crude way.

You start to include him in your prayers. First, you ask for the Lord to guide this man away from the path of killing. Then, slowly, you ask him to be protected from harm, you only pray for him to be safe.

And you say nothing of this new acquaintance to the others. You ought to, but your lips remain sealed.

You’re allowed to have friends and visit them, and it doesn’t matter if the friend is of the opposite sex as long as the meetings are purely platonic. Which they are. This man could be your brother, you tell yourself. He could be a long-distance cousin. There’s nothing fishy going on around here, and he’s just visiting, so why would you bother to tell anyone? It would only lead to troubled sighs and concerned questions, and you really don’t feel like answering them right now.

You miss a few midday prayers, and once, your chores. The relationship turns out to be far from platonic.

König can’t even keep his eyes in check.

They travel down your neck and land on the smallest amount of cleavage, barely visible in the loose, dull shirts you wear. They slip further down and stop to admire your breasts next, then quickly rise back to your collarbones as if this was just a mistake, just an absent, wandering gaze. You know you’re wearing a semi-helpless stare by the time he meets your eyes. The blue steel in his is completely swallowed by hunger.

You want to believe it was only a momentary lapse, but then he does it again. Actually, you catch him looking at your breasts, scanning your body and cherishing the tender spot between your collarbones more times than you can count. They’re quick, stolen moments, so harmless that you choose to stay quiet. He usually starts to talk about something trivial right after, or asks you a quick question as if nothing ever happened.

Those stolen glimpses stay with you for the rest of the day though. They give you intrusive thoughts during morning prayers and evening silence. You’ve never felt this… adored.

He has a quiet, commanding presence, and you feel like a mouse under his gaze, a mouse who’s always thoroughly examined. At the same time, he’s so polite and so charming that you can’t think ill of him. He always takes your coat and brings you coffee, always asks how your day or week has been, and actually listens to you speak. He listens to your every word with a softening glow in his eyes, a shimmer that spreads across the table and makes you feel warm all over.

König always softens in your presence... You always tense up in his.

Your face is flushed, and you blame it on the overcrowded cafe. You feel both safe and in danger with him, and it must be the virgin inside you talking. But you sense there’s something more at play here. He’s simply not like other men.

You fear he’s seen hell; in fact, he must walk there every day. From what he tells you, you understand that he has suffered a lot and could use your prayers. But it’s also quite clear that he’s not a victim anymore.

It’s difficult to see this utterly charming teddy bear in front of you, enjoying his large cup of coffee and giving you the occasional husky laugh, then imagine the same man bursting through a door and starting a massacre. Marching in some dark, dirty recess with a rifle or a shotgun in his hands, hunting down screaming people and putting down his already bleeding enemies.

Because that’s what you imagine in your mind when he tells you he’s sometimes used as an insertion specialist; a human battering ram in short.

You look at his hands around the mug, long fingers curled in search of warmth. He has short, trimmed nails and no sign of blood under them… But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

…

"Oh honey. Soldiers are the worst," your friend sighs when you meet her at another cafe, different from where you meet your killing machine. It’s bubbly and lively and colourful, just like your friend; it’s the opposite of König, the special operations soldier who’s dark, intriguing, and intimate, just like the dimly lit cellar cafe you meet him in secret.

"He probably owns a Fleshlight," she mumbles with her mouth full of croissant.

"A… A what?"

She starts to cough at your innocent inquiry, and you know you didn’t hear ‘flashlight’ in the first place, it’s just that you’re not sure if you want to know what on earth she’s talking about now.

When she finally survives the munch she almost choked on, she politely tells you what a fleshlight is, and you find yourself not rolling your eyes, but actually thinking about König using one with need.

Christ have mercy…

"Soldiers are crazy. I once dated this peacekeeper,” your friend continues in her usual chirpy way. “Couldn't hold a conversation for his life. Unless it was about guns... And when I went over to his place, the walls were covered with pictures of naked women. It was so pathetic I had to keep myself from laughing. And oh god, now I remember! He offered me microwaved mac and cheese for dinner…"

You sip your coffee and listen politely to your friend ramble about some guy she used to date. She has a lot of these stories, and all of them are worth hearing. Sometimes you think if you’re living your unlived sex life through your friend, the way you’re so curious about hearing all the different descriptions of male genitalia and the crazy, funny, downright unbelievable scenarios that have happened to her.

Some of the tales are so gross you’re quite happy you haven’t indulged yourself in casual sex. And at times, hearing about all the things your friend has gone through, being an onlooker to all that heartbreak and pining and loss, has managed to strengthe your resolve.

Being a nun isn’t so bad... At least you haven’t wasted your time on shallow men.

"He put so much chili in that shit that my makeup started to run," she continues her story about the poor excuse for a dinner and a date. Usually, the food leads to sex in these tales, and you’re a hypocrite for wanting to hear more.

"Did you sleep with him…?"

"After that? No thanks," she looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "I pretty much fled the building."

Even the most sad, pathetic, crappy tales make you both laugh, especially if enough time has passed. You laugh now, too, both at your friend falling for a man simply because he was a hot soldier and at the poor man who was in obvious need of an interior designer and a cook. Or a girlfriend… Or a mom.

"Look. I'm saying this because you're my friend." She says after wiping a few tears from her eyes, "And because you’re a virgin and a goddamn nun. Like come on, how many years have you been locked up in that dreadful monastery?"

"Convent," you correct.

"Whatever. I'm telling you this man is just looking for some easy pussy while he's deployed."

“I wouldn't call a nun an easy…ugh, you know.”

“Perhaps he likes a challenge then, “ she shrugs. “Men like to hunt.”

"It’s not like that,” you quarrel, trying to ignore the way her lips purse with amusement. “He's been very nice to me and… we have these great conversations. We talk about really deep stuff, you know? He explained the difference between Schopenhauer and Kierkegaard to me last time we met–"

"Ok, that's even worse. That's a red flag."

You look down at your beverage, sullen and beaten. She’s the first person you’ve told about meeting a man over a coffee, and you’re already doing it wrong.

"Does he ever look at your tits?" She asks all of a sudden.

"What?"

Your friend crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head, looking like an overly self-satisfied detective.

"Do you ever catch him staring at your breasts," she rephrases the question as if she’s talking to a lame person.

"Well… Uh. Yes, sometimes–"

"Well there you have it. Man's just bored with his fleshlight."

"Shh! Keep it down, would you…? Good God..."

"Don't take the name of the lord your god in vain," she chimes. “But seriously, it’s no wonder. If only we could get you out of that convent, there would be a line of men at your door.”

“Oh for God’s sake…”

“No, seriously. We’re talking about fistfights and broken bones. Dating apps would explode. People would get killed.”

You roll your eyes - your friend always loves to exaggerate things. If anything, you’re scared of men, and you loathe the dating world. You’re put off by shallow commitments and one-night stands and getting ghosted and God knows what else. That’s why you became a nun: to find something stable in your life. You always told your friend that Jesus Christ is the most stable man you’ve ever met, and you will stick with him. As always, your friend was not on the same page with you.

“Stable? Excuse me, but didn’t he start a riot or something at the temple? Are we talking about the same dude who lead an uprising against the Romans? Hung out with whores, raised corpses from the dead, fucked around and found out until someone nailed him at the cross? Stable my ass!”

“Look, even if he wants something more, I’m not up for it,” you try to convince - both yourself and your friend.

“Mm. What a shame,” she smirks. “Is he handsome?”

“Yes, but–”

“Mmh. Deep voice?”

“Umm… It’s memorable?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “Okay fine, it’s nice and deep and I like it. And I love his laugh,” you confess, and your friend does a silent little ‘yay’ and ‘I knew it’ cheer. You know it would be a field day for her if you finally got laid. As cliche as it sounds, you’ve always treated your friend as some sort of devil’s advocate.

You allow yourself to gush a minute, maybe two, about his muscles to your beloved devil. You tell your friend about his broad back, how wide his shoulders are, you tell her about the easy smiles he always sports with you. You describe the tactical pants and the snug black t-shirts he wears in detail, you confess he has a nice butt and that he’s so big he can't even fit the table.

You tell her how König starts to talk with his hands if he gets excited and how you have to fear he’s going to knock something over and make a mess. You tell about his blue eyes and the way they always soften when he looks at you, and looks at you often. All the time, really. He doesn’t even see other women, uh, you mean, other people in the cafe. He’s polite to the waitresses but never fully acknowledges anyone else but you.

Your friend's enthusiastic grin turns into an uneasy, pitying smile when she realises how deep into this man you actually are.

"I'm sorry babe… Someone has to give you the tough love," she reaches for your hand across the table. "Do you understand that if this guy is not working for the regular military, he's probably doing some war crime type of shit?"

The way you rush to defend your steadfast soldier who probably has his hands covered in blood, would make your abbess sigh.

"No, no, actually, he's working against these human trafficking cells–"

"Ok, he shoots human traffickers too, that's great. Good for him. You're still about to step into a pile of traumatised, immature, emotionally unavailable soldier shit. Trust me."

"Just because your soldier was like that doesn't mean mine has to be," you blurt.

Gosh - that was a good old Freudian slip...

"Yours now, is he?"

"No, that was… It just slipped."

"So you've actually thought about banging this guy?"

"What?! No."

"You have," she insists with a widening smile.

"No. No, I–"

"Oh my god. You're about to forsake your vows," she brings her hands together in excitement. "Oh my god, oh my god. This is amazing!"

You feel your lips snap into a thin line.

Just whose side is this woman on? Does she want to protect you from heartbreak or push you into some man's lap just for shits and giggles?

If you're chosen by God, your friend is chosen by the Devil, that's for sure. Nothing exciting ever happens behind the walls of your 'monastery', nothing but endless prayers and boring lectures and monotonous chores. Of course she thinks it's about time you got a round of good dick. She just wants to hear a filthy story when you return from your secret little fling, a fling that could get you kicked out of the convent for good.

"How tall is he exactly...? Does he have big hands?"

Your friend's eyes are shining with excitement - apparently the possible war crimes and atrocities König has committed are forgiven and forgotten.

"What does that have to do with anything…?"

"I can tell you what to expect in the dick department," she smiles with an impish grin.

You eventually leave the cafe with a dirty soul and a skittish heart.

The way your friend described your new acquaintance's probable blessings in the "dick department" left little to the imagination, and now you're actually scared.

This man has been so polite towards you, so kind to you. He's offered you coffee and pastries and cake along with an intellectual challenge, but now it's all ruined because all you can think about is what's inside his pants. How big his hands are, and how they correlate with what's downstairs. How nice it would feel to lay under him, with his chest pressed against yours, how divine it would be to get pinned down by him. How those strong, narrow hips would fit between your legs, broad shoulders eclipsing the view above as he slowly crawls on top of you. How he'd kiss your neck, your collarbones, your mouth, with such hunger that your legs eventually give in and spread wide open.

You return to the convent with a heavy heart and distressed thoughts, but find some solace in your evening prayers.

Nothing has happened, you remind yourself; these are only thoughts. You have seen a man who's interested in you for half a dozen times. You took part in a shallow, mundane, earthly conversation today with your friend, but nothing carnal or wrong has happened. Everything is the way it has always been.

You’re safe now, completely safe here. There’s no chaos and no guns and no tall men with big dicks, no Austrian war criminals trying to seduce you and then discard you after their deployment ends.

There’s only a man with a kind smile, warm eyes, and a nice, husky laugh. Some good coffee with distant notes of chocolate and perfectly civil conversations about European philosophers and the crisis of modern thought.

Sturdy walls support you; they have held you for centuries, and the crucifix above you has given hope to so many people before you. The ever-safe embrace of your faith envelops you, and you can always trust that you are loved, even when you’re flawed and incomplete.

Even with indecent thoughts, you can pray for mercy and ask for forgiveness. Even if you have impure urges towards your Austrian mercenary, you can still pray for him... It’s the least you can do to repay the kindness he has given you.

But the heaviness follows you to your room; it makes your chest feel dark and thick. You don’t say your last prayer before bed. You don’t want His eyes upon you tonight.

You don’t want to draw the Lord’s attention to you while your hand travels down beneath the sheets, your thoughts wandering to a certain god-like soldier with eyes like burning ice.

…

The next time you two meet, he crosses a clear boundary.

König has started to take you for walks, sometimes suggesting you two could visit a museum, clearly wishing you’d show him around the city. In truth, he’s the one parading you around like you’re his cute little lady. He pays for your museum tickets and brings you ice cream while you sit on a bench at a park, grabs your arm to draw your attention to a few swans swimming in a pond. And that’s ok - physical touch like that is ok. Holding hands is not.

Because…

One time, when you’re walking down a hill path, admiring the sunset, a big, warm hand wraps itself around yours.

It finds you in silence, envelops your tiny palm completely, squeezes you softly and emanates so much heat that a cord of fire shoots across your arm and straight into your heart.

You allow yourself to bask in the warmth of the huge, calloused palm for a few more seconds before ripping your hand away. You take a few hurried steps and turn, noticing he has stopped to look at you with guarded hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise even if König is the one who went off limits, “but this is not appropriate.”

“Entschuldigung… I know. That was out of bounds,” he raises a hand over his heart and bows his head a little, watching you from under his brows. You could keel over from how the gesture reminds you of Arthurian romances, of knights who place their hand on their heart to swear they’ll never disgrace a lady again.

Instead, you nod, your soul saved but your heart sinking like an anvil dropped in the sea. You’d want nothing more than for him to do it again, to grab your hand in his and never let go.

The rest of the walk happens in awkward silence, and you thought he would keep his distance - Christ, you thought you would keep your distance - but he insists on walking near to you, and so you continue down the path with your fingers still touching each other every now and then. You don't even try to move your hand away.

I’m going to die, you scream internally while looking at the bleeding sunset in the distance. You can’t look at him; you can’t even talk to him. It’s like your body is pumped full of some drug these days.

Falling for someone so hard is making you feel faint; your insides are churning and turning and your brain is a mess. Your heart is racing so fast that you’re afraid you’ll end up having a heart attack one of these days.

He’s probably used to this: the thrill and the adrenaline, a world laced with rush and extremes, indulging in things such as guns and explosions and blood and women and darkness.

You only have your safe routines, your sisters, a few friends you meet over coffee, a family you visit thrice a year. You’re not used to being bombarded with hormones and raw emotion like this. You have never, ever lusted after a man like this. The only thing you ever craved for was another slice of cake.

“Do you still want to see me?” He asks apologetically when you approach the convent which has now started to resemble a frigid, uneventful prison.

“Of course,” you hurry to say. “Just… No more holding hands. Ok?”

“Ok,” he chuckles softly, and you stop and turn.

He’s never been this near to where you live, and you’re afraid someone will see you if he escorts you to the door. You can’t be seen with a man in your current state, that would be a catastrophe. Anyone in the building could tell that this friendship is far from platonic.

“I’m sure you’ll find some other girl to… hold hands with,” you say, hating how bitter and self-pitying you sound. You even swallow when you look up into his eyes. They’re so soft now that the ice has almost disappeared, devoured by longing, a thick and sinful darkness.

“What if I don’t want some other girl?”

His voice is so wickedly gentle too.

You can see he’s fighting an inner battle to not touch you again; he’s standing toe to toe with you, towering above you, with his shoulders slightly hunched. If someone walked behind him, they wouldn’t even see you’re there because of how close you two are standing to each other. You can’t back away from him because you’d bump into a tall iron gate - in fact, you’re half-pressed against it now.

“I’ve enjoyed our conversations,” he continues with a throaty voice. God, how you would melt if he used that voice in bed…

“So have I,” your voice comes out as a wavy whisper. “But there can’t be anything more than that... I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” he laments, but the corner of his mouth curves slightly up. “So sorry you wouldn’t even believe…”

It’s mischief and seduction, darkness and deception, and your insides squeeze into a tight little knot.

“Please… Let’s just keep it the way it was,” you plead with eyes that beg the complete opposite.

“Sure... I will try my best, Kätzchen. Is this your convent…?”

You wonder if he’d pay you a visit if you told him where you sleep. You wonder if your single bed would creak if he tried to make love to you on it... You wonder if you could muffle your cries when you clenched with him inside you. If he’d groan too loudly when he reached his peak…

“It’s just around that corner,” you explain with a frail voice, hating how it betrays every single thing that crosses your mind.

“Good to know,” he replies, with no shakiness to his voice at all. He seems to enjoy making you so flustered; he seems to draw strength from people weaker than him. Which is probably 99 % of the population…

“How so,” you peep, already praying that he wouldn’t come to try his luck with the poorly locked windows. The back door is always open too because some of the nuns are smokers. König wouldn’t even need to use his insertion skills to get in.

“Now I know where to find you if I come to work here again,” he shrugs as if innocent. As if his eyes didn’t betray a few filthy thoughts too.

“Are you… Are you leaving then?”

“Soon.”

Your heart is about to break after two weeks of knowing some random guy, and you feel like the silliest woman in the world.

You try to remind yourself of what your friend said: this man just wants some easy pussy. He’s just bored with his fleshlight. Men like challenges, they like to hunt. You think about Lucky Luke and all the other cowboys who came and went as they pleased, breaking hearts and then riding into the sunset.

This cowboy only got to hold your hand though... And he’s saying he doesn’t want “some other girl”. Of course there’s a chance that he simply visits a brothel after discussing philosophy with you, or goes to a club or whatever, but you don’t want to entertain such horrible thoughts.

“I’ll miss you, then,” you try to sound neutral while he’s looking down at you like you’re his first love.

“Ganz sicher, I will miss you too. Perhaps I’ll visit you, work trip or not?”

“That would be nice.”

“It might take a while. But you won’t forget me, ja?”

“Of course not. I will pray for you every day,” you smile with a good amount of affection. It has the same effect as saying something like “I want to blow you right here on this street” because your Austrian giant gets visibly excited. His breath quickens, and his eyes start to wander again.

“...Are you sure I can’t hold your hand?”

You give him a shy smile, then quickly guide your eyes to the pavement. This König is definitely taking it as some love confession when a girl says she will pray for him. Your insides turn to jello when you see his hand close into a loose fist, then open with a spasmlike stretch. He wants to touch you so badly that he has to physically fight against it.

“No…?” He inquires high above you, so desperate that you’re quite sure he’s not frequenting any brothels in the area. He might stroke his cock to the thoughts of you, though…

You shake your head softly, then raise your eyes back to his. What a silly, silly man. If only you weren’t a nun, you’d let him do whatever he wants with you. Even abandon you after using you in every which way, because to be under that adoring gaze is worth a thousand heartbreaks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

There’s more desperate hope in that question, and you wonder if tomorrow is the last time you’ll see each other. Soon could mean anything, but you can’t bear to hear the exact time and date when he leaves. Not tonight.

“Yes. Same time, same place,” you agree, then flee from under the dark, adoring stare to the safety of your cloister.

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig x nun!reader #forbidden love #könig fanfiction #konig x reader #konig x you

2K notes · View notes

cllightning81 · 9 months ago

Text

Quiet Dates - Part Five [OB38]

Series : Younger Sister

Summary: Ollie takes you on that first date because he won the bet. Takes you to a small cafe so your anxiety doesn't get the best of you and you can enjoy it

Pairing/s: Oliver Bearman x Norris!Reader, Lando Norris x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Masterlist Oliver Bearman Masterlist Lando Norris Masterlist Younger Sister Masterlist Tag List

Standing in the hotel room, Lando was out visiting Carlos and making sure that he was okay. Normal boyfriend duties as you liked to annoy him about. Hungary was fairly warm, so you had decided on a nice outfit that would keep you cool but still allow you to be comfortable in what you were wearing at the same time.

There was a knock on the door, so you got up from the bed and wandered over to it. Opening the door to see Ollie with a smile on his face wearing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

“Hey” You smiled, opening the door further to let him into the hotel room. Ollie was silent as he followed you back into the hotel room. You turned to look at him as you grabbed your handbag and phone

“Hey you okay?” You asked him with a frown as you walked over to him.

“Huh? Yeah, sorry. You just look really good” He smiled, and you blushed, glancing down to the ground before looking up at him

“You also look very good” You smiled, taking his hand in your own. Ollie blushed as he looked down at you.

“Thanks. I found a nice little cafe it was really empty when I went past it, and I figured that you’d quite like it” He smiled, and you nodded

“Sounds perfect” You smiled, walking out of the hotel room with him.

Walking to the cafe was nice and calm. Ollie made sure that he was holding your hand the whole way there to help ease your nerves as you walked, which you were so thankful for. You hadn’t known each other in person for a long time, but you had been talking over text for ages, which meant you both knew more about each other than you thought.

You looked up at the little cafe Ollie had found. It looked like a small family fun business that had pictures of the family history dotted around the cafe. Taking you inside, Ollie found a table for you both sitting opposite each other with a smile.

“So how's the race treating you?” Ollie asked as you looked about the cafe taking in the decor.

“They’re good. I’m quite enjoying them. Still not so comfortable about trending on social media every time I breathe. but it’s okay. I’m getting used to it. Comes with the job. Although teenage boys and girls who find out you’re hanging out with Formula One drivers aren’t the best. They’ve been blowing my phone up” You chuckled, and he nodded

“Oh I get that. The number of people I’ve had in my text messages from before I left school this weekend is crazy” He laughed, and you nodded, looking at the menu

“So I believe it’s my turn to pay” You hummed, and he shook his head

“Got to beat me to it” He hummed, and you rolled your eyes

“You know I will. You might have the reaction speed, but I’ve got older siblings” You hummed, giving your order to the waitress. Ollie did the same, ordering some tea and a slice of cake

“Don’t tell my trainer” He joked, and you nodded

“I don’t even know who your trainer is” You shrugged, and he laughed, holding your hand across the table

“So I know you probably don’t want anyone to ask you this, but how are you feeling about tomorrow?” You asked, tilting your head slightly to look at him

“I’m scared. More than scared, actually. Formula One is so much different to Formula Two. It’s faster, the cars are different, a lot more g-force, more g-force in crashes. There’s so much that could go wrong” He ran a hand down his face as you gently squeezed his hand.

“Ollie you’re going to do great. Look at how amazing you did today! I know it was probably a stupid question, and I’ve just made you even more anxious than before, but honestly, I know you’re going to do great. I know you are, and remember we’ve got a deal you need to keep” You hummed, and he smiled at you taking a drink of his tea

“Have you met Charles’ puppy yet?” Ollie asked, changing the subject

“He’s got a puppy?” You asked now, very excited. Ollie nodded

“Here let me show you” Ollie showed you a little picture of the puppy

“He’s a little dachshund” You smiled, looking at the picture

“I can see. He’s very cute. Is he here?” You asked, and Ollie nodded

“Yeah. I’ll let you meet him tomorrow. He wasn’t at quali” You smiled eating a bit of your cake.

“Want to go for a walk?” Ollie asked once you had both finished your drinks and food.

“Oh that sounds like a good idea” You smiled, getting up and walking to pay. Ollie tried to push you out the way so he could get there first and pay

“Oh come on, Ollie. You paid for the ice creams” You whined as he paid for the drinks and food. Oliver took your hand as you walked around the park that was next to the cafe. Your energy picked up as you spotted a play park.

Dropping Ollie’s hand, you skipped over, getting on the swings and starting to swing. Ollie laughed, following behind you in just a walk as you waved him over to come on the swings with you.

“You have so much energy” He chuckled while getting on the swing next to you.

“It’s a Norris thing. Actually no it’s not. It’s a Lando and Y/N thing. None of our other siblings have this much energy” You shrugged, enjoying yourself.

“That’s probably true” He laughed as you tried to get higher than him on the swing, except he was able to get higher faster

“Oh come on. I just want to go higher” You huffed, and he chuckled, getting off the swing and giving you a push. Your giggles make him smile even more than he already was.

Getting off the swing, your arms instantly wrapped around him as you regained your balance. Ollie pressed a kiss to your temple before you looked up at him with a smile

“I want to change our deal” You hummed, and he frowned, looking down at you

“What why?” He asked, confused, trying to read your face

“If you finish the race tomorrow, then I’ll go on another date with you. However, I don’t want our relationship to spawn out of a bet for your first ever formula one race. I want that to happen whenever we want that to happen” You explained gently, resting your chin on his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist

“What if I want that to happen tonight?” He asked

“I think I’d like that” You smiled up at him as he leaned down a little. Your faces hovering above each other

“Can I kiss you?” Oliver asked, and you nodded

“I think I’d like that too” You whispered as he leaned down.

Your lips pressed together gently as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He pulled you closer by your waist. You smiled into the kiss, relaxing in his arms as you kissed him. Pulling back after a little while. You rested your head against his chest as you looked up at him

“Was that okay?” He asked, causing you to nod

“It definitely was. Although you’ve stolen all my energy now” You joked, and he laughed

“Good. It means you’ll stop texting me at two in the morning” you smiled up at him as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his body as he started walking with you again. Looking at your phone, Lando had texted to say that he was back in the hotel room now and not to wake him.

“We both know that I’ll be tired until I get into bed and then I’ll be jumping on Lando again” Ollie laughed as you pulled a hair tie off your wrist and pulled your hair out of your face.

“I know my dads here, and he’ll be in the garage tomorrow, but I’d really appreciate it if you would be in the Ferrari garage tomorrow. You’ve got this great way of calming me down” You smiled, looking up at him

“You know I’ll be there if you want me there. Lando really won’t care” You hummed, and he nodded, stopping as you passed a fountain. You looked at him with a frown as he looked down at you with a smile on his face

“Make a wish” He hummed, and you turned to the fountain and made a wish before starting to walk back to the hotel. Walking you up to the hotel room stopping outside of your room with Ollie, who smiled at you

“Thank you for coming out with me” He smiled

“Of course. I really enjoyed it, Ollie. Thank you” You smiled, opening the hotel door up after giving Ollie another hug and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Walking into the hotel room silently, assuming that Lando would be asleep by now. you let out a scream when you saw Lando sat staring at you

“Jesus fuck Lando” You swore hand going to your chest as Lando laughed at you. There was a knock at the door

“Y/N?” Ollie called, and you opened up the door to see a worried looking Oliver Bearman.

“I heard you scream. Are you okay?” He asked, looking to check you for any injuries

“Yeah. Just got a heart attack from my lovely brother. He told me he’d be sleeping, but he was sat staring at me” You explained as Lando was still laughing in the background

“Oh good. I’m gonna go back to my room then” he smiled

“Night Ollie” Shutting the door again, you turned back to Lando, rolling your eyes as you sat on your bed, taking your shoes off

“How was your date?” Lando asked, raising his eyebrows as he turned in his seat

“It was good. We went to a little cafe then walked around the park. I got a little too excited when I saw some swings” Lando laughed

“So you admit it was a date?” He asked, and you rolled your eyes again

“Yeah. I admit it” You grabbed your clothes walking into the bathroom as Lando cheered obviously very happy with the outcome.

Previous Next

Tag List

@bearryyy

@molten-m122

@thewannabewriter

@lozzamen3

@barcelonaloverf1life

@hiireadstuff

@mxdi0

@f1kenzzz

@seasonswinter

@ellen3101

@via-ferns

@taygrls

@urfavsgf

@hwalllllllelujah

@vicurious28

@ririyulife

@taronyuhunter

@llando4norris

@sbrn0905

@evie-119

@harrysdimple05

@jisungstuff

@ahgase99

@velocesainz

@ruleroftheuniverse

461 notes · View notes

celestie0 · 4 months ago

Text

hi friends, i won’t be posting or updating any of my works for an indefinite period n will be on hiatus from this blog as well.

i’ve unlisted kickoff & ihm on ao3 (haven’t deleted, they’ve just been made private) and i’ve unpinned my masterlist here on tumblr (again nothing’s been deleted so you could probably find the chapters if you searched my tags)

but the reason i did that is because i don’t want any new readers finding my works during my hiatus because i don’t want to potentially upset more people in the event that, during this hiatus, i decide that i would no longer like to write my fics

that would be an insanely sad decision to make. i put so much thought into my stories not because i am trying to make them entertaining, but it’s because they genuinely mean so much to me and are cathartic in ways i can’t describe. i have spent a great majority of my life self negating for the sake of others, and so writing was just a form of expression where i could talk about all the things i’ve suppressed over the years - anxiety, career stress, financial stress, avoidance, depression, loss, coming of age, navigating love, etc

but lately, and i do think it’s been a build up of just some careless words from a handful of people over the months, i find myself steering towards a practice of writing that is no longer asking the question “how can i put as much of myself in this piece as possible?” but rather “how can i make sure people won’t criticize this…i feel awful that it doesn’t have what they want it to have…other creators are doing xyz, should i be doing that too?…i’m just scared to share this”

not exactly sure when that shift in headspace began, but as of right now, it’s as strong as ever. and i understand that those questions may seem irrational, and i just have to try to not focus on the feeling, n i wish i was someone that could compartmentalize those thoughts better, but here’s the thing — the whole reason i started expressing myself through writing in the first place was because i’ve spent my whole life compartmentalizing. it would feel so ironic & untrue to the lessons i’ve learned in this journey if i just chose to “suck this up” and continue pushing forward until i reach a point of burnout simply because i don’t want to upset anyone

i’m really sorry i couldn’t focus on the positive. especially with all the insane n incredible amount of love n support i’ve received for my works. i’ve said this time n time again but when i started posting kickoff to ao3 back in january of this year, i had NO idea it would be this loved by so many people…i was like ok can’t wait to interact w these four readers for the rest of the year…and then BAM, i find myself fully sobbing after each chapter update because i was so touched by all the sweet n kind words. i don’t want this decision to come off in a way that makes it seems like i don’t love u guys sm or that i’m ungrateful — i’ve always taken pride in respecting my audience. even for a simple hobby, i try to put effort into my works. i proofread, i plan out, i edit in length, all because i am, well, for one, i’m a bit of a perfectionist LOL but also i think there’s a great deal of honor in respecting an audience that gives you their time n attention

but i already am struggling in my life to focus on the positive. medicine has been such an incredibly daunting career to pursue, i’m honestly only doing slightly better now because i’m just filled with relief that i got into med school to begin with lol it’s still surreal to me, so the stress has been kinda manageable so far on that sense of optimism, but dear god the shit i went through to get here…and the shit i know i still face ahead of me. i spend all of my serotonin on trying to stay positive in the face of my responsibilities. so all of this time i’ve spent trying to stay positive for the sake of my stories too has just left me with so much exhaustion — i just don’t see why posting my works should be anything less than fun and endlessly exciting when it’s a hobby that’s supposed to help me thru the actual brunt of life.

anyways, i’m getting a little carried away here. all this to say, i just need to take time away from posting my works so i can see writing as something for myself n not for others again. i don’t want the thoughts swimming in my head to be thoughts of anxiety over people potentially criticizing me n my creative decisions. i want the thoughts in my head to once again be positive, excited, and nurturing towards my stories. i don’t see how i can accomplish that at this point unless i start writing for myself once more, and not for others

i still have a great deal of passion to write, which is why i haven’t formally taken down my works. i anticipate that i may be able to come back in the future to share my writing again. but as of right now, i just want to heal the relationship that i have with this hobby, and i feel like that’s gotta happen in private (lmfao it sounds like im tryna freak my writing)

i’m sorry that i turned off my asks n my replies, i know so many of u care about me n want to support me n i just am beyond thankful. i don’t anticipate this is a forever goodbye, but i do just need some time rn away from all of this.

hope u all have a happy time!! and take care of yourselves :) much love

- ellie

224 notes · View notes

httpscomexe · 6 months ago

Text

Forbidden Secret Desire

Summary: You just can’t seem to find yourself in this stupid school for freaks, but just when you’re sure no one cares anymore, a man with adamantium claws disturbs your groaning with a promise. Except he forgot to mention everything good comes with a price.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) Anxiety, hints to violence, loneliness, I guess angst, manipulation (The reader is helpless and will look for anything to make her happy), some hints towards suggestive material near the end, bad language word use, pet names.

Word Count: 3523 (Find all chapters here) Chapter 2

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

Xavier's Mansion.

Also known as the school for “Gifted Youngsters,” or simply for what society prefers to call, “Freaks.”

You’d been there for a few months. You have a very unique power, something even Xavier himself doesn’t understand how to control.

You get these looks all the time when you're walking in the halls of the mansion. You notice it when people cover their mouths to whisper about you and you can’t not notice it when you seem to create a bubble around you as some of the kids try to keep a distance.

Yea, it hurts. You couldn’t deny that either. Sometimes you’d even have to find a restroom really fast to cry to yourself in one of the stalls, but even that hurts when some of the students quickly flood out of the restroom after you enter.

Nobody knew how much it hurt you, nobody even knew what powers you really had. If they did, you would’ve already been sent to the ice box, but luckily, you didn’t know how to use your more dangerous powers. You figured Xavier probably knew about them, considering he can read your mind and he knows just exactly how powerful you really were, but he didn’t know if you knew about them. And what you don’t know, can’t hurt you.

The hardest part was going to class. While everyone else had a table of four people, you sat alone. You did every project alone, with high soaring grades by the way, and you never got to speak to anyone during discussion or free time before the bell rang.

Sometimes you wish you were just… normal.

Of course, you weren’t the only person that was avoided. There were a few other students and even some of the adults that were always avoided. The only true friend you seemed to have was Hank McCoy. Everyone used to fear him, thinking that he couldn’t control the “Beast,” so he knows how you feel. But sometimes it only felt like he tolerated you because you were smart, and you were the only student that could aid him in building anything related to tech, and nanotech, and coding, and all that good stuff.

“Have you figured out why it isn’t working?” Was the first thing he asked you as you walked into his lab. Not a good morning, no how’s class, and not even hello. “I was thinking it had something to do with our maths, that maybe we calculated something wrong but I’ve looked over it again and again and couldn’t find a single thing wrong with it.” He tells you, picking up his notebook which you could see was now full of mathematical equations and random scribbles which seemed to radiate with frustration.

“I don’t think we got the maths wrong, I’ve checked it about a thousand times.” You say quietly, then gently put your bag full of books down under one of his desks so it wasn’t in the way. “Pretty sure it just needs to be smaller. Nothing really about maths though. Other than that, the fibres need to be smaller.”

“So it is the maths?”

“Eh, kind of.” You groan a little and stretch before grabbing a small, delicate pair of tweezers. “This is still too big.” You tell him, placing a sample of part of your tech down under a microscope, strong enough you’re surprised it couldn’t see atoms. “See, this is about as thick as a piece of hair, which is about the size of…” You sigh, looking back at your maths. “It’s about 50,000 nanoparticles, so not a lot, but we need it to be a little smaller.” You tell him, then look away from the small bit of tech to look up at him, his eyes squinted in your direction as is he was trying to understand what you were saying. “Okay I’ll dumb it down. It’s about as thick as a piece of hair right now, we need to numb it down to about… only one hundred nanoparticles, so it should be about as thick as graphene.”

“What’re you two nerds going on about now?” Another voice cuts into your explanation. It was none other than the gruffy voice of Wolverine.

“Oh hey, Logan.” Hank abandons the workstation to go over Logan who was making himself some coffee. “Just figuring out something about nano…”

“Nanoparticles.” You finish his sentence.

“Yea, that.” He says plainly, not bothering to look at you as you turn away from their conversation and look through the microscope.

“Now how do I make you that small…” You whisper to yourself, gently lifting the particle string with your delicate tweezers and examining it through the microscope. “Hmm…” You hum to yourself.

“Y/N!” Hank calls for you, and you turn around. “I’m going out to pick up some lunch for the both of us. What would you like? I’m getting Mexican.” You tell him what you would like, and he takes a moment to clean his work area and stuff his wallet in his pocket before he finally leaves. Leaving you to stand by your desk, doing all the work that has to do with nanotech, but also leaving the Wolverine with you.

“So what exactly are you two working on?” You hear his voice behind you, then you see him next to you.

“Teleportation. Not as complicated as you think, it’s just the fear that gets to everyone really.” You look away from your work, and your eyes land on him. His arms crossed as he leaned on a nearby table, showing enough respect to not sit on your working table.

“Seems complicated. What could possibly be scary about it though? It's just teleportation.”

“Well. If you think deeper into it. Your body and every single atom and particle of your body has to be completely broken down into an uncountable amount of smaller pieces and then your body has to rebuild itself in the secondary location, you just have to hope that it rebuilds you correctly. Or the next thing you know half your right arm is also half of your left leg with toes for fingers.” You say without taking a breath, taking a deep breath after letting it all out. Staring back up at him, his eyes were now squinted in confusion.

“I don’t think anyone is scared of that except you. I’ve never even thought about that.” He shrugs, taking a sip of his scalding hot black coffee.

“Yea well… I’ve had a lot of time to think about a lot of things.” You tell him through gritted teeth, mumbling before grabbing your notebook.

“You know…” He pauses, placing his hot coffee mug on another table away from your work before walking back up next to you, placing his palms on your table where there wasn’t electronic junk lying around. “You aren’t the only one.”

“The only one?” You question, turning and grabbing another tool before looking under your microscope, turning the string around to try and figure out how to break it into a smaller piece, without actually breaking it.

“The only one that’s feared.”

You stop what you’re doing, still looking into the microscope but not actually paying attention to what was right in front of your eyes.

“I’ve seen the way some of the other kids look at you, bub. Like there’s something wrong with you. I know how it feels to not fit in.” He crosses his arms as he leans against your table, attempting to get your full attention. He clears his throat before speaking again. “I’ve seen you in the halls. Your name is Y/N, right?” You nod, his eyes and yours locked onto each other. “Logan.” He says, reaching his hand out to shake yours. Your hand basically gets engulfed by his as your soft hand meets his, which were rough and still yet soft, that surprised you, considering… “Hank talks about you a lot also. Not like he loves you or anything, he just tells me you’re smart. Like really smart.” He shrugs.

“Hm…” You hum a little. This is the first conversation you’ve had with someone in this school where they’ve actually treated you like a real human.

“Considering the way you explain this stuff, I’d say he’s probably right about you being smart.” He nodded towards the nanoparticles still sitting under your microscope, it was hard to see from even a foot away considering it was the width of a single piece of hair. “So what exactly is a nanoparticle? Or nano…”

“Nanoparticle" is correct. It just like a piece of tech or anything made of tech like certain fibers that can be visible to the naked eye but they’re very small. Just this one piece is the width of 50,000 nanoparticles.” You carefully pick up the string, and gently put it in it’s container.

“And what was that other thing you mentioned earlier?”

“Graphene?”

“Yea.”

“It’s made of about 50 to 100 nanoparticles, and it can be seen with the naked eye through a refraction of light in a mirror or clear substance that has a bend in it.”

“I’m not completely sure what any of that means. But I trust you know what you’re doing.”

“Yea, I’m kind of a nerd.” You chuckle awkwardly, then reach down to pull your bag over your shoulder, your social battery is pretty much near zero for the day, or maybe week. This was you first time ever speaking to Wolverine and you just nerd out on him? What were you thinking?

“Alright, I got food. Where are you heading?” Hank finally comes back, a bag full of boxes with the three of your foods in them in his right hand as he enters the lab, letting the metal door close behind him.

“I’ve got a bit of a headache, I was gonna go back to my room.”

“Well you know the rules. No food in the rooms.”

“Yea, yea. I know.” You sigh, setting your bag back down as he hands you your box of food and you hop onto one of the clean counters to sit down as you eat your food.

“Have you seen Xavier today?” He asks Logan, handing him his food also.

“No, he’s out on some special mission with Mystique right now, won’t be back for about another week.”

“And what does he have you doing? You never leave your room so I’m assuming he's’ got you doing something?” Hank stands next to Logan as they both talk back and forth.

“He has me teaching his third class and fifth class. I guess that one is the anger management class and the other is meditation.”

“Ah, so he’s got you teaching the two classes you used to fail in.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

After working in the lab, a lot shorter than usual, you actually head back to your room. You hate to admit it, but you’ve been ecstatic to meet Wolverine for years, and when you finally get to have a conversation with him, you just geek out on him about nanotech?

As you hang your bag on the wall and remove your jacket only to throw it on the back of your desk chair, you can’t help but want to just smash your head on a wall until you’ve forgotten about everything that’s happened today.

You mope as you walk into the centre of your small room, stopping and staring at the mess on your desk, a bunch of full notebooks covered in little pen markings of maths and science that no one else in the school would understand.

You walk to the desk, take one of the notebooks in your hand that had some free space left, and drop down on your bed. Reaching behind your head, you pull your sweater over your head and discard it on the floor before leaning against your headboard and clicking the back of your pencil until the led is at your desired length.

As soon as the tip of the led touches the paper, your mind wanders. That was so embarrassing… You realise, scribbling random maths into your notebook. I can’t believe I just made a professor hate me too… Not only had you dissociated, but you also completely nerded out. You talked about nanoparticles as if it was the only thing you cared about. You care about more though. You care about the family that was so scared of you they sent you off to this stupid school, calling you a freak and breaking all ties with you. No, you don’t care about them. But you care about your friends so much! You don’t have any friends. Hank is very special to you, he holds a space in your heart. A very, very small space. Yea he doesn’t care about you, you’ve just been able to make about a thousand breaks in his experiments. Then of course he would take all of the credit when he would show it to Professor X.

Why do you even try? I guess working with Hank is the equivalent of the other students going out to the mall with their friends. The only difference is he wasn’t your friend.

You take it back, you had one friend. If you could even call someone you only text cause you’re too scared for actual confrontation, a friend. Nightcrawler- or Kurt. The one guy who’s ever made an actual effort to try and be your friend, he’s just always out on missions. Or so that’s what his actual friends tell you. Maybe you should send him a text and actually verify whether he hates you or not… You get up from your bed and unzip your bag, sticking your hand into the pocket where you always shove your phone, but it’s not there. What the fuck? You take your bag off it’s hook and search the rest of the pockets, and still no phone. You go to your bed, searching under the covers and getting on your knees to check under the bed, still no phone. You check your desk, your discarded sweater, and you sweep the floor with your eyes looking for it, thinking it might’ve just fallen out of your pocket. You hate seeming desperate for a simple device that rots your brain to default, but God that phone is your escape.

“Hey, is everything alright-?” A voice cuts into your messy search as you turn around and your door is cracked just enough for him to stick his head in.

“Sorry, Mr. Howlett, I just can’t find my phone.” You chuckle awkwardly, standing in the centre of your room as he peeks around your room at the mess you’ve created.

“Again, you can call me Logan. I don’t mind it, I prefer it actually. Do you mind if I step in?”

“Yea, it’s fine. Sorry for the mess, I haven’t really had time to clean it.” You nervously link your fingers together in front of you and let your thumb pick at your skin as he comes in, closing the door gently behind him.

“It’s not a mess, just a sweater on the floor and notebooks on the bed.” Sweater on the floor. Of course. Yea, you were standing in the centre of your room, in your shorts and a black fucking clasp on bra. Now you suddenly feel naked standing in front of him, so you cross your arms, hoping to hide at least some of the embarrassment.

“Well uh, what’s up?” You try sounding cool but immediately cringe.

“You left this in the lab.” He tells you, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out your phone, handing it to you backside up, so you could see the glittery phone case, adorned with pink sparkles. “Was gonna give it to you in class but you kids go crazy over your phones.”

“Oh I wouldn’t go crazy…” You tell him, humour in your voice as you awkwardly look around your room, the sheets halfway off the bed and your pillows tossed in the middle, the result in the crazy search for your phone. “Would just be a little annoyed…”

“So is everything okay?”

“Yea, why do you ask?”

“I was knocking on your door and sayin’ your name. but you didn’t answer.”

“Oh,” You laugh dryly. “Sorry, sometimes I get lost in my head and kinda just block out all sounds and sometimes I’ll block out what’s in front of me."

“Oh I see.” What do I say to respond to that? “What were you working on?” Why is he still here?

“Honestly, I don’t know, I was just scribbling.”

“Had enough maths for the day?” He jokes.

“Had enough maths for the month.” You mumble, but then he laughs. A short laugh. But a laugh nonetheless. Isn’t he annoyed by you? Why is he still- “What would you be doin’ if Hank didn’t have you doing all this brain stuff?” Oh.

“Well uh, nothing probably.”

“Not one for hanging out with your friends?”

“Friends? Hah!” You laugh with sarcasm, then walk over to your discarded sweater, bending over to pick it up, deciding to distract yourself with cleaning. “It's not easy for a freak to make friends.” You mumble to yourself, hoping he wouldn’t hear, of course, he did.

“You’re not a freak.” He crosses his arms as you look over your shoulder at him.

“Yea sure. Everyone in the school would so easily disagree with you on that.” You say back, folding the sweater before tossing it into your dirty laundry basket. “Professor X won’t even let me leave the school because he doesn’t trust me. I’m sure you’re no different.” Shit that was supposed to be said in your head. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You’d smack yourself right now if it wouldn’t make you look stupid, if he wasn’t in your room still.

“So you think everyone’s the same?” He asks, more of a statement.

“No I- I don’t mean it like that. I just-” He clears his throat.

“Come here.” He demands, looking into your fucking soul. So of course, with a gaze as threatening as his. You stand right in front of him after you walk up to him like Bambi in a traffic headlight. Wobbly, and frozen. “Good, now look at me.” Oh, you forgot that part.

You looked away from his shirt, and tilted your head back to look up into his eyes and for a man who’s so adept at killing his eyes were so soft, and broken…

“If you didn’t randomly blank out, you would’ve also heard Xavier when he told you the only time you could leave, is if it’s with someone else in case there’s an emergency.”

“Emergency from what? Me losing my temper?”

“Exactly that.” Is what shuts you up. “When I said I know how you’re feeling, I meant it.” His voice softens, and you feel your throat knot as you hold back embarrassing tears. “It wasn’t easy for me to make friends either, but honestly I prefer to be in a small crowd. Normally I’m not the one to comfort a student, but you just don’t seem to want to talk to anyone. Why’s that?”

“I’ve tried talking to people. They just give me a look and then walk away.”

“Does that actually happen? Or is that just what it feels like?”

Shit. You hate to admit it, but he makes a point.

What the fuck. Was your next thought as his hand moved up and he gently placed his hand on your cheek.

“I know you hate everyone at this school from the fucking bottom of your heart, but I’m gonna have you try to refrain from hating me. We can strike a deal by letting me take you out of the mansion. I’m sure you’d love to get out, can’t remember the last time you left.”

“Never have.” You whisper, shrugging your shoulders. Your voice is only quiet so your tears aren’t cascading down your face.

“Well if you can just promise to behave, and tell me when you’re getting stressed, then I’ll supervise you like Xavier wants.” He tells you, promising some sort of freedom. “I’m not saying I’m scared of you. If anyone is scared of what you can do, it’s you. Am I right?” You nod. “Use your words, bub.”

“Yea…” Your voice cracks as you barely mutter an entire word.

“Hey, hey…” He says softly, then he suddenly pulls you into a hug. “I’ve got you.” He gently rubs your back, which by the way is still bare since you never got to throw on another shirt. “Just cancel your plans with Hank, I can help you more than he ever will…”

He promises. His fingers gently run over the metal clasps on the back of your bra as you loosely wrap your arms around him, embracing his hug and you nod, not able to formulate any more words as you cry quietly against his chest, your tears wetting his shirt as you both stand there in silence. A quiet smirk on his face as he holds onto you…

#marvel #marvel smut #smut #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #x reader #wolverine #logan #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #logan x reader

286 notes · View notes

batmanisagatewaydrug · 3 months ago

Note

hi sex witch,

This may be out of your wheelhouse, and I understand if it is, but I’m tryin anything. I’m getting an iud on Friday (woohoo we love birth control) and I’m TERRIFIED. I’ve had an iud before that ended up being a really rough experience, and I remember the insertion vividly. My doctor already gave me something for my anxiety, and I’ll be taking as much NSAIDs as a person my size can have, but what tips would you recommend for helping with the soul crushing fear. I’m autistic and trans, so I’m also dealing with the general fear many of us have of doctors. Tbh even if it’s shit like “here is exactly what to visualize while someone is elbow deep in your gulleyworks” would be great. Thank you sm

hi anon,

if you have someone who'd be willing to go with you, straight up call the facility where you'll be getting your IUD and ask if you can bring an emotional support person with you during the insertion.

if that's not allowed, or you don't have someone available to tag along on short notice, it's also worth asking if you could have an emotional support nurse or other employee who's there specifically to be your buddy during the procedure. not as comforting as a friend, maybe, but it's nice to have someone whose full focus is on offering you reassurance instead of trying to divide their attention between you and your IUD.

other things I've heard of people doing to up their own comfort levels: bring a stuffed animal or fidget toys, ask if you can play your own music during the procedure (and if headphones are appropriate, if you'd feel better with them, but that's a solid Maybe since your doctor will likely need to make sure you can hear them), wearing a little scent that helps you feel calm, staying very focused on something on your phone during the procedure, making aggressive smalltalk with anyone else in the room while it's happening. me personally, I have a bitch of a time with pap smears, so I always have my examiner verbally walk me through everything they're doing, completely with counting down how much time it will take so I know exactly how long I'm bracing for.

informing the person doing the implant that you're feeling Fucking Scared will also be helpful right out of the gate and help them know what to expect as well; get everybody on the same page and work together to make the procedure as quick and relatively painless as possible.

#sex edventures 2024

77 notes · View notes

trippinsorrows · 8 months ago

Text

with me + part three

authors note: hi! its me again. i had some free time and most of this chapter was completed, sans gaps and editing, so i figured why not?

thank you everyone for all of the kind words, like im still so floored just how many people like the random shit that comes from my head!!!

also, some tags don't seem to work for some reason, like when i type it, the hyperlink doesn't appear so super sorry to those impacted by that!!!

warnings: angsttttt, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

word count: 4.2k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion

You were sixteen years old the first time you drank alcohol. Truly, a result of peer pressure. Alcohol never seemed as amazing as your friends tried to preach it to be, not with the amount of hair you’d held back while your friends retched their entire days consumption in toilet bowls.

Just didn’t seem all that appealing.

And then it was homecoming, and your school won the game, qualifying them for state. The whole town was in celebration, but no one was as lit as the football team. And, of course, dating the quarterback at the time and as cheer captain, your presence was damn near a requirement. High school politics and all.

So, you, Amir, and your closest friends spent the night house hopping, partying at one place for a little while before moving on to the next. And at some point, at some stop, you’d been convinced to try a beer. Honestly, it was disgusting as fuck, but a small part of you didn’t want to be the one prude of your group, so you downed it. And then another. Followed by another. Which preceded one more.

And by the end of the night, you truly were white girl wasted.

You thank God that you had good friends at the time who made sure you made it home safely, because you absolutely did black out. Amir did too, hence him not being the one responsible for your care.

When you woke up that morning, the first thing you did was dart to the bathroom where you emptied your guts. The second? Panic. You were terrified of your mother finding out that not only had you engaged in underage drinking, literally violating the damn law, but you’d gotten so wasted that you blacked out. It was incredibly stupid and highly dangerous. Your chest tightened and stomach coiled at how she would react if and when she realized what you’d done.

That was the most scared and nervous you’ve ever been in your entire life.

Well, up until now.

Because all you can focus, think, and obsess about is the fact that Joe will be in your state, in your town, in your damn apartment in a matter of hours. He’d text you in the middle of the night a screenshot of his flight information indicating an arrival time much earlier than you were hoping for.

Dread swept over as you sent him a message asking if he would stay at the same hotel he usually used when visiting, not that it got much use. He typically stayed with you during his visits. But, you offered to meet him there instead, feeling more comfortable if you were out of this setting, not in your apartment that had some type of reminder of Callie in damn near every room.

It took longer than you liked for him to respond, and his answer only served to increase your anxiety and trigger some anger.

No. I’m coming to you.

That was it, no explanation to your follow up texts which you know he read cause bastard had his read receipts on. Just radio silence.

That pissed you off even more, because why the hell was he ignoring you? Wasn’t he about to come talk to you about something anyway?

Oh.

Your stomach tightens. Not knowing what the hell he wants is driving you insane. You know why you reached out to him, but why did he seem so keen on speaking to you? It’d been nearly five years, what could have happened to trigger this sudden desire to reconnect?

And why the hell did he respond so quickly to your initial message? Truthfully, you expected no response whatever, convinced that he’d probably changed numbers after his massive increase in fame. Or, for him to at least hit you with the ‘who is this’? But, he didn’t, he called you and immediately knew who you were.

A tiny gasp leaves your mouth. That must have meant he still had your number saved, the same way you still have his in your contact list.

You….you don’t know what to make of that, don’t know what to make of it at all.

“Mommy, why am I spending the night with Aunt Mariah?”

Callie’s soft voice temporarily eases you from your panic, granted it also makes you aware of how she’s clearly unhappy about this. You know why too. Sundays are always your ‘special days,’ where you spend the entire day together doing the most random of things from baking, to playing game, to random dance parties that sometimes result in neighbors politely asking you to keep the noise down. It’s a tradition, and this is the first time since starting said tradition that it won’t be happening.

Closing up her drawer where you were just digging for some pajamas for her, you move to sit next to her on her bed. Her head is down as she plays with the stuffed animal in her arms. “I’m sorry, baby. I know this is our day, but mommy just has some business she has to take care of.”

She keeps her head down, voice low. “Can’t you do it tomorrow?

Fuck. You hate disappointing her. “I wish, baby, but it can’t wait.” More like he won’t wait. You’re not sure what you would have proposed regarding a time to discuss, well, Callie, but it certainly wouldn’t have been the next damn day. “Hey, how about this? Why don’t you and I stay home tomorrow and have a special special day on Monday?”

At that, her head lifts, eyes sparkling with renewed excitement. “Really?”

“Yup. Mommy can take some time off, and you can miss a day of school. It won’t kill us.” You rarely ever take time off as it is, mostly because a teacher’s salary isn’t anything to write home about. You have to work your ass off to keep a roof over your and Callie’s head. But also….you’re not even sure what frame of mind you’re going to be in following this meeting with Joe, so better safe than sorry. “But only if we can watch The Lion King first.”

Clearly pleased with this compromise, she offers you her pink finger. “Deal!”

You two seal the deal with a pinky swear as you hold her into your side and sigh heavily. You wish that you two could stay like this forever. “I love you, Callie. Okay? Always remember that.”

________

“He’s what?”

You anxiously chew on the nasty ass protein bar Mariah offered you after you realized you’d barely had anything to eat today. It was a part of the latest dietary plan she was following, probably something she found from one of those weird ass dieting groups she was a member of on Facebook.

You loved Mariah, dearly, but as you two grew older, especially after having her baby boy, Micah, she’d become increasingly insecure about her body. Always the smaller, thinner, more athletic of the two, you knew that she struggled with how much weight she’d put on over the years, especially when her plan to drop the baby weight didn’t pan out. You're not sure she’s lost any of it, to be honest.

It wasn’t even a massive weight gain, and truthfully, you thought curves suited her well. But, it didn’t matter what you thought. What mattered was how she felt, which wasn’t the best, despite your best efforts to build up her confidence.

“He’s coming into town,” you finally answer, debating if you should offer her the rest of this grass in bar form. Why the hell is it so damn grainy?

“Today? He’s coming into town today?” You nod. “I’m sorry, I must have missed a couple chapters.”

“More like volumes,” you murmurs, sourly. It’s a great opportunity for you to set aside the dirt bar and explain to her everything she’d missed, from Callie’s initial inquiry to your calling him, to him sending you an itinerary for a flight arriving in roughly three hours at this point.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, careful of her volume despite Micah and Callie being occupied in the living room watching Bluey. “What are you going to do? What are you going to say to him? This is….this is bad, girl.”

“You think I don’t know that?” You lay your head against her kitchen island and force yourself to take three, big, deep breaths. “I don’t think I can do this.”

You hear her exhale. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m serious, Mo. I—” You lift your head and try your best not to cry. Tears won’t do anything to help the situation. “I don’t know what he wants, but it’s obvious he’s angry with me already, and I can’t imagine when I tell him about Callie that he’s gonna feel any better.”

“You think he’ll be upset?”

“Of course, he will.”

“No, not that. I mean, yeah definitely, about that. But, I mean, you know….that you kept her.” It takes a minute for you to process what she’s asking, and it’s a question you hadn’t thought about in some time.

You’d been so consumed about how upset he would probably be that you kept Callie hidden from him that you hadn’t considered the alternative. What if he was more upset she even existed in the first place?

The thought alone takes you to a dark place. Feelings of rejection and abandonment that you yourself experienced and probably haven’t fully processed. Feelings you swore with your life you’d always protect Callie from.

And always will.

“Then he’ll continue to not be a part of her life.” Your voice is sound and resolute. Mariah also recognizes that all too familiar look of determination that fills your face.

“But what will you tell her then?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.” A motto, a mantra, an oath. You’ve hit hard times before and always pulled through. This will be no different. Whatever's needed to keep your daughter from the trauma you experienced, you’ll do. No matter what.

Mariah knows better than to try to reason with you right now, not that there’s a ton of that needed. As a mother herself, she fully understands the intrinsic desire and borderline need to protect your child. She just also knows that you can be stubborn, and when you put your mind to something, nothing and no one can change it.

She just wonders how that’s going to bode over with whatever is about to go down.

You finish off the conversation with thanking her again for her last minute availability. You know you could have asked your mom as well, but she would have had questions, questions you don’t have the answers for nor the desire to explain just what’s happening.

Hell, you don’t even fully know what’s happening.

As the time gets closer, you realize you need to get home and straighten up. Maybe vacuum or some shit.

“Will you call me before I go to bed?”

“Of course, I will, mama.” You push back some of her hair, hating to see her sad again. She’s wearing that pout that you just realized is similar to Joe when he scowls. Shoving that from your head, you add, “and don’t forget about our big day tomorrow.”

That seems to win you a small smile, enough to make you feel less shitty about ditching her, even if it’s completely beyond your control. “It’s gonna be so much fun!”

“You bet your butt it is, kiddo!” You bring her in for another hug, holding her close and tight. “I love you, Callie Bear.”

“I love you too, mama.”

Callie expressing her love for you is the soundtrack in your head as you drive home and even as you move around your apartment, dusting and vacuuming. You even clean the baseboard, something you’re sure you haven’t done since you first moved in when you were 22.

You even make the controversial decision to leave up the photos of Callie or both you and Callie together in the living room and don’t really do much to move aside the indicators that a child lives here. Like her toy bucket near the TV or pink kiddy cups lined up near the kitchen sink.

It doesn’t make much sense to you to hide these things when the sole reason you even reached out is to make him aware of why those things are there and who they belong to. You’ve stopped letting yourself try to figure out why he wants to speak to you or why he’s upset, realizing it was only making your anxiety ten times worse to the point where you felt like you were going to vomit.

Recognizing you have some time before he arrives, you decide to take a shower that’s much longer than necessary and will probably have you upset at yourself when you get your next water bill.

But, it’s a nice distraction. Being fresh, clean, and moisturized is always a nice pick me up. Granted, you find it almost silly as you struggle to figure out what to wear. It’s Joe. Not Beyonce. Also, your outfit should be the last thing on your mind, as you eventually settle on a graphic shirt and some shorts.

And realizing you have nothing else to do, you plop down on the sofa and wait. Wait for whatever the hell is about to happen once you open that door. Strangely enough, your anxiety seems to be settling. Granted, you wonder if that’s being replaced with denial, because you’re also starting to tell yourself that it won’t be that bad.

It may not be, but that’s not a good hill to die on. Preferred but not reliable.

Needing another distraction, you scroll aimlessly through your Instagram, liking a few posts of friends, family, and former classmates from both high school and college. It’s interesting seeing how everyone ventured down different paths, some homemakers, some business execs, and of course the aspiring musicians aka unemployed.

And then there was you, the small town teacher raising her secret love child of a WWE superstar in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.

Your stomach twisting and turning tells you the anxiety is returning, but it doesn’t have as much time to heighten because the doorbell rings.

He’s here.

There’s this irritating yet quiet ringing in your ears and anchor on your chest, both of which make it harder to untangle your limbs and move off the sofa. It’s like watching yourself slowly make your way to the door, the tremble in your hand noticeable as you undo the lock and start to turn the knob.

I love you too, mama.

Callie’s sweet, reassuring voice floods into your head providing the sweet relief needed to return from dissociation and snap back to reality. Eyes shutting, you take another deep breath and carefully swing the door open.

Truth be told, you weren’t quite sure what you expected to feel upon seeing Joe again, not sure what you should feel. This was a reunion, but only in name. Nothing about him being at your doorstep was warm and inviting. That much is obvious by his stoic, unreadable facial expression, which isn’t entirely out of character. Contrary and both similar to his current heel portrayal, Joe has always been more on the quiet side, not as easy to read. More open and warm once you get to know him.

You’d found that out firsthand.

Taking in his countenance, you can’t avoid observing the rest of him. He’s somehow even bigger than the last time you saw him in person, almost taking up your doorway, rippling muscles on full display in the plain, black fitted shirt he wears. His hair is pulled back as usual, clean line up, and beard fuller than you remembered him liking it. He’s aged, obviously, but well. Very well.

Heat rising to your cheeks, you step to the side, allowing him inside. You hate how you close your eyes as you inhale his scent.

He always did smell so damn good.

The physical distractions dissipate when he’s inside, the door locked, and it’s just the two of you.

You notice almost immediately how he seems to be intent on keeping his back toward you, playing it off by taking in your apartment. Not that much, if anything, has changed. He can’t be that damn interested.

It was painfully clear that Joe was already frustrated with you just by his texts, but his anger is even more palpable in person, borderline suffocating.

Just what the hell did you do to upset him so much?

Clearing your throat and crossing your arms over, you decide that someone needs to say something because this silent shit is not working for you.

But then Joe angles his body, still not looking toward you but something else. And that’s when your anxiety starts up all over again.

You watch him, intently, as he walks over to the side table near the sofa, the one that has pictures on it.

Pictures of Callie.

He picks one up, and you’ve never been so still in your life. It’s torture, not seeing how he’s looking, unable to read his facials, clueless to what he must be thinking. He’s quiet for too long, so you decide to bite the bullet and say something.

“I—”

“Is she mine?”

Waves. Heavy, plunging waves of emotions splash at you with a ferocity that nearly floors you. His question, so simple, isn’t what you expected to leave his mouth. It’s posed so quietly, lowly, emotion evident but not enough for you to know which one. Anger? Sadness? Confusion?

It stumps you, and for a second, you try to convince yourself that he doesn’t mean what you deep down know what he means.

“What–what are you talking about?”

He curses quietly, and you hear him say your name before he asks again in a dangerously calm voice, “is she mine?”

You recognize this tone, the tone he takes when he’s trying his best to tame his temper, but there’s no guarantee that he can. And that in and of itself is not a good sign, Joe rarely ever gets mad. He’s irritatingly adept at maintaining his composure in all situations.

Except this one.

You just want to take a nap, take a break from all of this. Everything seems to be happening so fast, too fast. It wasn’t even 24 hours ago that Callie first asked about her father, and now the man is standing in front of you asking you to confirm she is his daughter. You’re so confused about everything. How could he tell so easily? You always said and thought she favored him, but did she favor him enough for him to take one look at her and know she’s his daughter?

That doesn’t even seem possible nor plausible.

You have so many questions, but there’s no need in delaying the inevitable.

Rip the Band-Aid off.

“Yes.”

It’s at that moment he finally decides to turn around, and you can see the moment it happens, the moment the floodgate of emotions rush through him like a tsunami. He’s shocked. He’s confused. He’s angry.

“How did you find out?” Putting the pieces together is a slow progress, but one that’s progressing nonetheless. He clearly came here with that question prepared and ready to launch. He knew about Callie, knew when you texted him, knew when he decided to call. Knew before he even walked in and saw a picture of her.

He just needed you to confirm as such.

That seems to be the wrong question, because anger is suddenly more prominent, both vocally and physically. “You’re seriously asking me how the fuck I found out I have a daughter?” Any attempt to control his anger is out the door, replaced with visceral emotions. “No, the real question is why the fuck you didn’t tell me I have a child?”

You’re not sure what it is, the emotionality of it all, the fact that you’re face to face with the man you’ve worked so hard over the years to get over, or even just the fact that he’s speaking to you this way. Maybe all of it. Regardless, you’re not about to just take it lying down. “First of all, watch your tone. You’re not going to talk to me any kind of way. Second of all, you are married, Joe. What was I supposed to do? Send you and your wife copies of the sonogram?”

“Don't put this on that,” he dismisses, swiftly and curtly. “Jadah has nothing to do with you telling me I'm a father. Don't you think I had a fucking right to know?”

“Of course you had a right.” He did. He does. You won’t deny him that, but it’s also not as cut and dry as he’s making it out to be. “But—”

“There’s no but, Y/N!” He cuts you off, and you have to take another deep breath. This time though, it’s not to lessen anxiety. It’s to calm your own anger that’s rising. Who the hell does he think he is to speak to you this way? Like you’re some damn child. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Are you going to actually listen to me, or are you just going to keep yelling? Cause I don’t respond to disrespect, Joe. You know this.”

He actually smiles, smiles at your words. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? I’m disrespecting you? You keep my child from me, and I’m disrespecting you?” He scoffs and looks up at the ceiling, probably to settle himself. “Did you know when you ended things between us?"

The surprising questions just keep on rolling. “What?”

“I swear to God.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “Did you know you were pregnant when you told me to leave? Is that why you did it? So I wouldn’t find out?”

This time, you’re the one scoffing, trying to rationalize how he could even think to ask you this. “Seriously, Joe? I told you why I ended things.”

“Yeah, well, you’re clearly not the most honest fucking person, so I don’t even know what to believe anymore.”

You hate the fact that his words don’t further anger you but instead sadden you. You see how he’s looking at you, with a level of disdain and disgust. It’s such an unfamiliar experience, an unwanted one. “So, I’m a liar now?” It should have come out much stronger, firmer, showing him that you’re not putting up with his bullshit. Instead, it’s a damn near whisper.

He looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, like he doesn’t get what you’re not getting about this. “What do you call what you did?”

Your head is starting to hurt. This is going exactly how you feared it would go.

Bad.

It’s all becoming too much, your voice weighed down with the emotions of it all. You feel like you’re on the verge of tears, and you hate that. You won’t let him see you cry. “We’re not….we’re not getting anywhere here, Joe. I think—”

“You should get a lawyer.”

Your heart stops. “What?”

He runs both hands over his face, the heaviness of this conversation clearly weighing on him as well. “We need to figure out some type of custody arrangement, and I don’t think us handling it with each other is a good idea—”

“Custody?” The room is starting to blur again, items moving wayward and sideways. The ringing in your ears is also returning. “What—you—you want to take her from me?” You need to sit down, your legs feeling like they’re ready to give out at any moment. Take her. He wants to take her from you. Unable to control yourself, you snap, “she doesn’t even know you!”

He matches your tone and volume precisely, clearly unwilling to back down. “Exactly, I’m her father, and she doesn’t know me because of you!”

You can barely believe the words coming out his mouth, incapable of processing that he’s actually standing here threatening to take your child from you. This has gone from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. “So, you think taking her away from me is the way to get to know her?”

His volume levels down a bit, and you could have sworn you saw a glimpse of sympathy. “I don’t want to take her away from you, Y/N. I just can’t trust you to not keep her away from me.”

This is disastrous. You never could you have envisioned this conversation playing out the way it is. Desperate, you move over to him, needing him to see you, to hear you, really hear you. “You’re here now, aren’t you? Isn’t that enough?”

His answer surprises you with its austerity. He’s so angry. “No, because it took almost five fucking years for you to call me in the first damn place.”

He moves away from you, obviously headed for the door. He has nothing else to say. Your head is throbbing, vision still murky, but you manage to rush past him, obstructing his leave. “Joe….wait.”

You’ve never felt so small, so desperate, so helpless in your life. It’s reminiscent of the last conversation you had with him five years prior, that same boulder on your chest, bigger now. Much bigger.

“Please.” You’re not even trying to hold in the tears anymore. That’s not even important. Not in the slightest. This is your child. “Please don’t take her away from me. She’s my baby, Joe. She—she’s never even been without me before.”

He looks at you, and you can see it now. Finally see it. Finally see past all of the hurtful threats, the dismissiveness, the refusal to hear you out. He’s not angry. He’s hurt. “And she’s never been with me.” He moves past you, but not before one last statement. “Maybe now you’ll know how I feel.”

________

just curious, ya'll think joe trippin? personally, i'm team callie cause both reader and joe are wrong in one way or another but im also biased so ignore me.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns #roman reigns fic #arisnotebook

162 notes · View notes

thetorturedfagdepartment · 3 months ago

Text

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Halloween Heartbeat ࿐ྂ

A/N: Hiii!!! First fic + Real post on tumblr :3 I hope you guys enjoy this fic! I took a good amount of time on it and hope to get it to 3 chapters before Halloween ends! Anywho enjoy!!! (Also I put it into grammarly so I hope the spelling and grammar is good…)

Tags: Fluff, Modern Au, Halloween Horror nights, Scare Actor Ellie, Ellie x F Reader, Strangers to Lovers?, Men DNI!!!

Your friends love Halloween Horror Nights! You on the other hand— not so much… You guys had just made it out of a house and god were you panicked… Breathing heavy, hands sweaty, vision a little blurry—

“Hey you okay?” one of your friends says placing their hand on your shoulder causing you to jump. “Damn hey chill— we can leave if you want—“

“No!” You shout cutting them off “I’m good I’ll just wait outside the next one.”

Your friends nod and they head to the next house. They wave you goodbye and you stand outside. You see a sweet treat spot across the house and make your way over. The area was crowded and filled with people in costumes, and scare actors and you just tried to stay calm and ignore it.. until a scare actor with short messy auburn hair came up behind you with a chainsaw, she pulled it and it rumbled. You let out a piercing scream, mixed with some tears. She freezes and sees how panicky you are. She then starts to feel bad causing her to break character.

“Hey, Hey, Hey… it’s fake.” She turns it off and touches the blades “See fake.”

You nod and wipe the tears, you have been filled with so much fear and anxiety since you got here.

“S—sorry… I’m usually not this pathetic.” You chuckle and she shakes her head.

“You’re not pathetic, everyone gets scared..” She smiled, you see her pretty eyes and freckles. Although they were mostly covered by the fake blood she had on. She had baggy jeans and a somewhat white tank top drenched in blood and fake cuts all over her. “I’m Ellie,” she extends a hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ellie,” you shake her hand and exchange introductions. She was really sweet.

“Actually um— I’m about to start my break how about I meet you in there and buy you a treat?” She says with a warm smile that sends shivers down your spine. You look over and notice your friends have just gotten out of the house.

“I— um—.. oh my friends are back.” You say turning her down.

She seems very upset as you reject her.

“Omg we leave you alone for like 3 minutes and you already get a girl?” One of your friend’s jokes.

“Come onnn, tell us who’s the lady who stole our best friend…” Another one says shaking you gently.

“I’m Ellie, don’t worry guys I’m just about to hand her back. But first I want your number. If that’s okay..?”

You think for a second and nod smiling with a faint blush. You then take out your phone and exchange numbers.

“Heh.. thanks I’ll see you around.” She walks away leaving you with your friends cheering for you getting her number.

—

A few weeks had passed since then, and you and Ellie have begun texting often. She makes you laugh, smile, and blush, every time you guys text its butterflies. She just knows how to make you happy.. Ellie told you what time her shift ended and she had given you some sneaky tickets to come back whenever. You decide maybe it’s time to surprise her..

You get into a cute outfit hoping she’ll like it, even throwing on some makeup… just to give yourself an extra bit of pizazz. You head out the door looking super cute— all just for her.

As you arrive and head into the park, all of the anxiety from a few weeks ago comes right back. The loudness, the people, the scare actors… it’s all just too much. You walk into the gates and brace yourself. Ellie said she's over in the Terror Tram today.. Perfect. Far. You brace yourself, walking through the crowd, and scare zones trying to not cry and pee yourself. One specific actor wouldn’t leave you alone. He chases you through the entire zone. You scream and run quickly but he won’t leave! You end up bumping into someone.

A familiar freckled auburn-haired girl just so happens to be the one you run into…

“Hey, hey.. what’s going on it’s me… w—wait why are you here..?” She tries to calm you down and reassure you, but she’s a bit confused as to why you’re here.

“H—he—he won’t stop chasing me!” You point at the tall man with nice black hair and clown makeup on, who just so happened to have been chasing you with a knife.

“Him? Oh, that’s Jesse.. Jesse!! Get your ass over here!” Ellie calls him over. You then grab her hand and stand next to her.

“Yeah, Elles? Oh look you caught her!” He chuckles. He’s taller, sorta broad, and has medium-length black hair.

“Leave her alone. She’s my — uh…” she blushes and looks away “—friend…”

“Oh, so I’m just a friend now?” You chuckle nudging her.

“Hush.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you Ellie’s just a friend. I’m Ellie’s friend Jesse, and that’s Dina another one of our friends.” He points to a pretty girl dressed up as a killer broken doll.

“Friends? You guys broke up again.” Ellie shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

“You know Dina…” Jesse shakes his head.

You seeing Ellie interact with her friend is kinda cute.. it’s a side you had yet to see of her, and now you’re worried you won’t be able to get it out of your head.. after a few moments they start saying bye.

“Well see ya, I’m still on the clock, and apologies for scaring the shit out of you,” Jesse says as he walks off.

“He seems nice, you know not when he acts like he’s gonna kill me…” you say giving her a dorky smile.

“Yeah, now what are you doing here? I told you my shift was over soon remember I was gonna go to your place.” She says shaking her head and letting out some tongue clicks.

“I know!!! I just wanted to surprise you…”

“Hey that’s really cute and sweet but I don’t want you coming here by yourself knowing you’re gonna be scared,” Ellie says giving you a reassuring smile.

“Okay, okay.. fine I won’t do it again.” You then smile back at her.

“Atta girl. Now, I’m off the clock, and its uhhhh 10 pm? How about we go grab some fast food and head back to your place, I’ll get the food and you set up your living room for a fun hangout night, huh?” Ellie smiles, and a cute pink rose tint appears on her freckled cheeks.

You agree and like Ellie says she heads over to grab some burgers, fries, drinks, and a nice ice cream each for you guys. As you wait for her you set up the living room. On your way home you decided to get some Halloween things. Such as cute spooky blankets, some cobwebs, fake pumpkins, and cute little ghost plushies. You dimmed the lights and sat on the couch waiting for her.

Ellie comes in with the food and locks your door back.

“Woahhhh cute.. I really like how you decorated the place. You know, you didn’t need to do all that.” Ellie says setting the food down and handing you, your drink. She shakes her head and chuckles taking a seat next to you.

“Yeah, I know but I wanted to make the living room look all cute..” You blush slightly and grab the food.

“So what is this like a date now?” Ellie says taking a bite of her burger.

“… if you want it to be…” you then look her in the eyes.

“I— um .. w—well yeah…” Ellie blushes feeling a bit flustered and jittery inside. It’s been a while since she had felt this way. Maybe a little too long..?

You nod your head and you guys eat dinner, with a little bit of chit-chatting here and there. You guys finish the burgers and fries and eat your ice cream cuddling on the couch.

Eventually, Ellie clears her throat and brings up the topic of movies.

“Sooo what do you wanna watch pretty girl.”

Pretty girl…

“Uhh I don’t know, I’m not that much into horror so as long as it’s not that I’m fine.” You say taking a lick of your ice cream.

“I should’ve guessed that.. well come on we have to watch something spooky or at least like with mythical creatures!” Ellie nudges you and laughs.

“Okay then..”

You get up and grab a DVD, you then insert it in your PlayStation.

“A DVD? Come on how old are you 40?” Ellie says with a stupid snort-laugh.

You then play your DVD and Ellie has no clue what you put on.

“Soooo what did you choose?”

“You’ll see…”

“I swear to god if it’s stupid I’m literally gonna murder you.. this time with a real chainsaw.” Ellie groans and you guys finish your ice creams and lay back.

Then the intro rolls in.

“You’re fucking kidding me right..? Twilight.” Ellie groans, rubbing her face, and shoves you off of her.

“Come on what’s so bad with Twilight!” You then scoot back over and flick her nose causing it to scrunch.

“It’s corny! I always cringe! I mean the plot is good it’s just cringe all right!!” Ellie whines but soon she sucks it up for your sake.

As the movie plays Ellie makes some snobby jokes and you just bounce back. About halfway through the movie she just stares at you…

You feel her gaze and look at her. Causing her to look away, a soft blush appears on her and you giggle. Butterflies sent straight to her stomach. You don’t stop staring… you keep looking at her. She’s beautiful, how has no one already swooped her off her feet…? God you wanna kiss her— what..?

“Uh— you’re … missing the best part…” Ellie says clearing her throat and still blushing like a dork.

“I’ve seen it 1000 times… Ellie I—“ You then lean in for a kiss.

Ellie’s eyes widen as her lips press yours. She places a hand on the side of your cheek leaning towards you gently kissing you. Your hands wrap around her waist as you guys cuddle while you kiss. The kiss is long and gentle.

The kiss finally breaks and a tiny piece of salvia strings between you two. Ellie chuckles wiping her lips.

“You’re so cute..” she says smiling like a dork.

“Yeah… right back at you.”

You have no regrets about going to that stupid amusement park a few weeks ago now.

Read part 2 here!

#ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie fluff #lgbtq #wlw

69 notes · View notes

lizzieisright · 2 years ago

Text

At least I got you in my head (8) (end)

(7)

Summary: Abby is straight. And then you move in with her.

Tags: modern au, fem!reader, straight!abby (she is doing some comphet bullshit), pining, idiot in love and it's abby, reader is gay and tired.

Notes: finally, you both figure your shit out.

Taglist: @abbyily @lillysbigwilly @gravygranules @blairfox04 @frogtits1 @ccinnamongrl @ninazenuk @urmomsgirlfriend1 @sunkissedbibi @couchgarbage @nil-eena @inlovewithelliewilliams @st4rluvrr @mai5mai @machetegirl109 @azelmawrites @rhae-blackqueen @vea-vea-vea @mnim58e @chubeline @strgrlxox @chrry1ovr @littletinyladybugs @shaemonyou @luvrmunson @saffronssapphic @zootedhoe @2012wannabe @elcantsleep

Thank you guys for reading this story and enjoying it! I was very excited when I wrote this chapter and I hope you'd like it too. For some reason Electric love by Børns was playing in my head the whole time as I wrote the reunion part. And the last lines are reference to the Sleepover by Hayley Kiyoko.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Abby spent her Sunday thinking and thinking and thinking. Even if she wanted to stop she just couldn't, spiralling into the rabbit hole of "does she like me? Do I like her? No, she doesn't like me. I do like her." on repeat. It was still hard to wrap her head around it - in two days her whole perception of herself just turned upside down. And it was good - it always feels good to get rid of this amount of guilt and shame - but it also left Abby in front of metaphorical crossroads and the obvious “what’s next?”.

Abby jumped from being so sure in her feelings to backtracking into “I just figured out my sexuality I need more time”, which was well, true - she did need more time to just..let the knowledge settle.

But you still weren’t home, and her thoughts were too focused on you. Yes, Abby just figured everything out, but the dam that kept her feelings unnoticed broke and now Abby felt everything. The itch she had in her hands before because she wanted to touch you? It was constant now. The desire to call you and just talk? Relentless. She never felt this way about anyone - which was understandable, it’s hard to fall in love with people you’d better be friends with - and the intensity of her feelings was scaring her at times.

Abby spent the first half of Sunday moping around while Ellie provided her silent emotional support and just played games with Abby to keep her occupied. But now and then she’d drift back into her spiralling.

“Abs, until you talk to her all your thoughts have some probability of happening. And it means you’re wasting time, okay? You need to chill.”

“Ellie. Two days ago I learned I’m gay and yesterday I realised I like my roommate. What chill are you talking about?”

“Okay, yeah, my bad. But this spin cycle won’t give any kind of results. Reflect all you want or whatever, but until you talk to her you won’t have an answer.”

“I’m not even sure I want one.”

“You want one, dude. Believe me.” Ellie said somehow menacingly, and Abby didn’t argue.

After Ellie left Abby tried to pick her thoughts apart again, but there was nothing new in her poor brain. Abby felt tired and not lost, but definitely in a dead end. So she decided to use one of her favourite coping mechanisms and hit the gym. The gym always helped, especially with emotions - Abby could box if she was angry or do compounds to concentrate on her form instead of her thoughts, she could stretch just to torture herself and concentrate on physical pain.

Abby packed her bag and went to the gym, hoping for some kind of relief and honestly? A fucking break. She was extremely tired of constant anxiety that changed to sweet memories of you and then changed back to anxiety. Abby wasn’t used to this, so it was taking a huge toll on her - a toll big enough to gain courage to tell you everything. Ellie was right - she needed an answer if she preferred to stay fucking sane.

And the gym helped. Abby did her safest routine, worried she’d get stuck in her head and hurt herself if she did something different, and while Abby was counting reps and measuring time for the rest period, she didn’t think of you. Her only concern was her form and the mental maths of how much weights she needed to place, how to breathe properly and how to place her feet correctly for the squats.

But the moment Abby left the gym, her thoughts were back. Maybe you already came back home? All your books for tomorrow were at home, you needed them, right? Did you have spare clothes at Cait’s? (where else you’d be? At Vi’s? Abby didn’t even want to entertain the idea, and really, it didn’t seem like you) Abby wasn’t sure if texting you would be a right move right now - she needed space and you probably needed it too. But fuck she missed you.

Abby checked her phone in case there are any messages from you, any messages, even if you'd call her a bitch or something. Just. Any indication you were still in her life.

But no. There was nothing, and the apartment was silent and empty when Abby came back.

Monday went over Abby's head, she couldn't concentrate on her classes which was very surprising: she could go with no sleep and still be present during lessons, but today all she could think about was you. The guilt and shame mixed with excitement and hope and it was driving her insane, being pulled apart by polar emotions like that. Now all these stupid stories from how painful it was to be in love finally made sense to Abby - before you she was never really in love with anybody, but now? Now all these tears and desperation and grand gestures made sense. Coming back to exes? Made sense, because she’d crawl back to you without a question. Forgiving anything? Made sense too.

Fuck, people were really right when they said how powerful love was and what things it made them do for it. And even if it was painful and confusing, Abby felt happy about it, as if her unbearable feelings were a proof of her own humanity. A lot of people before told her she was cold and heartless - Ellie joked about it a lot when Abby didn’t hesitate to tell someone who liked her to fuck off - and sometimes it got to her. Now though? Feeling the sharpest needle going through her heart when she thought of you telling her to fuck off? This pain made Abby feel alive.

Later at practice Abby saw Vi - they didn’t train with each other, different weights, but the days were the same - and Abby expected Vi to be angry at her, but not only Vi wasn’t angry, she actually looked at her sympathetically, as if she knew what was happening in Abby's soul. The guilt and shame were back - yes, Abby was still jealous and yes she still wanted to break every knuckle on Vi’s hands for touching you - but she was self-aware enough to understand that Vi wasn’t a part of this. It wasn’t Vi’s fault that Abby had issues.

And the thing was - Vi was actually fucking nice. Abby didn’t talk to her a lot, but she knew Vi’s story and she admired how hard-working she was and how she stayed herself after all the shit she’s been through. Ellie called her cool, and Ellie didn’t call anyone cool, so Abby felt like she fucked up here too.

But the stakes weren't that high - it wasn't like they were friends in the first place - so Abby decided to make amends. She braced herself for the uncomfortable conversation and went over to Vi's locker when they were changing.

"Hey." Vi looked at her, surprised, but she didn't seem hostile, so Abby continued. "I wanted to say sorry for the other day. I was an asshole for no reason."

"Don't stress." Vi smiled. "I wasn't offended."

"Yeah well. I still said some shit. Sorry again."

"It's okay." Vi seemed to hesitate before speaking next. "(Y/n) was really upset."

"Yeah. I know." Abby nodded, trying to conceal her hurt.

"Do you plan on talking to her?" Vi asked carefully again as she put her shirt on.

"Yes."

"Cool."

It seemed like the conversation was over and Abby went back to her locker, taking her bag out and putting her sweaty uniform inside. She felt relieved after that - if this went well, maybe it will go well with you too. Vi put her things in her bag and walked to the exit while Abby was still changing, deep in her thoughts.

"Have you figured it out yet? Why you got so angry?" Vi asked cautiously, stopping right before leaving.

Abby froze, surprised, as she stared at her t-shirt.

"Was it really that obvious?"

Vi shrugged.

"Kinda. You know, the spidey sense. It's not about your looks, it's just… you can tell."

"Gay aura." Abby smirked, remembering Ellie’s words.

"Gay aura." Vi chuckled. "Good luck, Abby."

"Thanks."

And her words were genuine.

You were still pretty shaken up after the fight - not because of the fight itself or Abby’s words, but because it felt like you were hit with reality in a way that broke your stupid rose coloured glasses. And for some reason it was hard to come to terms with the fact that you overestimated yourself: how you acted based on your emotions instead of using your fucking brain - which is understandable, people lose their brains when they’re in love - and the result was the same. You weren’t planning on confessing at all, instead trying to get over Abby, and it led to the same outcome - you two weren’t talking.

You kept thinking about if you made the right choice by never bringing up the “maybe you’re not so straight” topic with Abby - maybe you should have? Just very carefully? Just nudge her in the right direction? Was it too late to do that now?

Huh, what a fun conversation it could be “hey, maybe you were so angry at me not because I made you uncomfortable in your own home but because you’re gay and jealous?” (which was in fact Cait's entire point about this fight). Even if this would go well, Abby being gay didn’t equal Abby being gay for you.

God, what if Abby would start bringing girls over once she would be out? “Thanks (y/n) for helping me figure out my sexuality, now I’m going to fuck every gay girl on campus because I’m hot as fuck and they all drool over me”. Fuck.

At this point it was hard to differentiate between your rational thoughts and irrational thoughts: where did your concerns end and overthinking started? You felt confused and all over the place, and even though you knew the only way to fix it was to come home and face Abby, you were too much of a coward to do it.

Obviously you'd say you were sorry. And you would stop bringing girls over because she was uncomfortable with it and you weren't an asshole. But you felt like this talk would be only the cover of the real problem - this situation happened not because you were selfish (not entirely), but because you wanted to get over Abby as fast as possible. For some reason you felt like you had to tell Abby you were in love with her - otherwise you had a feeling you were taking advantage of her with the amount of touch and care that was between you. For you these hugs and cuddles and small kisses on your cheeks weren't platonic or friendly, and now when you finally admitted your defeat, you couldn't pretend it was something else.

So you had two choices: tell Abby you were in love with her and let her decide how to change her boundaries or distance yourself from her as far as possible. And if you were younger you'd probably choose the second option - it was way easier than being honest and getting rejected. But this way you'd lose her as a friend and leave both of you with hurt and anger towards each other. And Abby would probably call you out on this and you'd have to tell her what was wrong with you anyway.

So your only option was to confess and face whatever would come out of it. And it was scary.

That was the reason why instead of going home on Monday you still came back to Cait - you couldn't lie to Abby but you couldn't tell her the truth either, so, as one of the cartoon characters said, there was a third option: doing nothing. And you chose it.

Caitlyn wasn't happy with your choice, staring you down as you took your shoes off.

"You're running away from your problems."

"I'm doing nothing about my problems. There's a difference." You sighed tiredly and put your coat on the clothing rack.

Cait stared you down, frowning, but you didn’t have energy to argue with her, so you went straight for the shower. It didn’t help much with your thoughts, but the weight of your anxiety got smaller.

from: Vi

Abby just apologised to me

You stared at your phone as your feelings flooded your chest - Abby was stubborn but she was good. She was doing what was right, she fucking apologised to Vi, and here you were, too scared to face her. If Abby said sorry she felt guilty, and it meant she was hurting while you were hiding from her. You could wallow in misery all you wanted, but the thought that you were dragging Abby down with you made you feel sick. You loved her too much to let your fears hurt her.

to: Vi

How is she?

from: Vi

She got hit in the face

Three times

shitty

The guilt washed over you. For Abby to be this unfocused? It meant she was really worried and upset, and you needed to stop it. Fuck it if you couldn’t confess yet, but you needed to resolve this situation and stop indirectly torturing Abby.

to: Vi

Can we reschedule our lesson tomorrow?

from: Vi

Yeah no problem

You locked your phone and went over to Caitlyn, who was reading.

“I’m going home tomorrow.”

“Thank god.” Caitlyn rolled her eyes.

“She apologised to Vi.”

“Amazing.”

“By the way, can I give Vi your number?”

Caitlyn stopped reading and you noticed her pink blush. It was faint, but after years of friendship you knew what it was - you weren’t surprised, Vi was hot and Caitlyn thought she was smart, so of course your question got a reaction out of her.

“Aren’t you two involved?”

“We’re friends. If it’s a no it’s okay. I can totally see why it’d bother you.”

“It doesn’t bother me. I’m not an idiot, I’ve noticed how she looked at me.” Caitlyn was creepily observant and awfully honest. Thank god she didn’t embarrass Vi right then and there, because Cait was unhinged like that. “Give me her number, I’ll text her myself.”

“Cait, you’re terrifying.” You said honestly. “She is sweet, don’t hurt her.”

Caitlyn stared at you like you were an idiot and you just silently showed her Vi’s number so she could copy it.

Three days. It’s been three days since the fight and Abby was exhausted. She couldn’t even sleep, creeped out by the silence in your apartment, twisting and turning the whole night, and if she fell asleep she dreamt of you - either the fight played out differently (you didn’t leave and Abby confessed) or it was 100 and 1 scenario of your reunion.

But then Abby woke up and you weren’t there. She hated how quiet the place was.

At least Abby could concentrate during her classes, even though she opened her dms every 10 minutes trying to gain courage to text you. Why was it this hard? By the end of the day she chickened out and decided to text you if you wouldn’t be home today too. And for some reason Abby was sure you wouldn’t be home when she’d come from classes today. It seemed like you were still pretty mad at her - oh, that was why she was too afraid to text you. Abby - now calmed down, guilty Abby - was not prepared for your wrath if it was still there. And she’d prefer to have it fall on her in person than over a stupid text.

Abby opened the door to your apartment and froze right in the doorway. She could hear the TV from the living room, she saw the lights faintly lightning the hallway and fuck, there were your shoes.

You were home.

Abby took her shoes and her coat off in record time and stormed to the living room. You were sitting on the couch, your legs under you, and you smiled at her sheepishly, as if you weren’t sure that Abby’d be happy to see you. Abby took a deep breath as her heartbeat went absolutely crazy.

“You’re home.” Abby sighed, still so shocked she thought she was dreaming again, her bag falling from her shoulder to the floor with a thud.

“Hi.” You said in a small voice and Abby couldn’t take anymore - you were there and you were smiling at her and she missed you so fucking much.

Abby almost ran to you, scooping you in her arms as you yelped in surprise - fucking hell Abby was strong to pull you up like that.

“You’re home.” Abby murmured into your neck, breathing you in, the same spice and mint as always. You hugged her shoulders and breathed her in too - you missed her crazy. Abby was solid against you and her hand on the small of your back kept you pressed into her as if she was afraid you’d disappear. You clung to her, as you became aware how much you missed her warmth - how did you survive these three days without Abby?

“I’m sorry, I was so selfish.” You told Abby while she pressed you flush against her.

“God, I’m so sorry too, I didn’t mean a word of what I’ve said to you.” Abby said into your hair, her voice soft and quiet and full of remorse. You hummed, comforted by her arms around you, her blonde hair tickling your nose. Abby smelt like home, like someone who would protect you from anything and whatever she said to you on Saturday didn’t matter anymore.

Abby inhaled your scent and closed her eyes, basking in you. She physically couldn't let you go now when she's got you, knowing now why it felt so good to hold you and not being ashamed or anxious about it. Fuck. To hell with it, Abby's never been a coward.

"I figured my shit out." Abby's voice was steady, but her heart sounded like drums in her ears.

"What do you mean?" And your heart was not any better.

"You told me to figure my shit out. I did. I wasn't angry because you were disturbing me or something." Abby pressed you even closer, grounding herself in your presence. "I was jealous."

It was suddenly hard to breathe and you froze in Abby's arms. Did she mean what you thought she meant? God, please, let it be what you so desperately wanted it to be.

Abby moved away a little so she could look at you, because if Abby would get her heart broken now she at least could get it broken looking into your eyes.

"I like you." Abby breathed out and the wave of painful relief hit her. It was good to let it out, as if someone cut open an aching injury and yeah, she was bleeding, but it felt better.

Your brain fully shut down as your ears rang from her words - was it even real? Was it your Abby or another dream? But it was real, and Abby was looking at you, she was waiting for an answer and your own confession ripped out from your chest before you could stop yourself.

"I like you too." You felt your face heat up for some reason, but the way Abby’s eyes lit up made it all worth it.

Abby's eyes grew wide with surprise just before all her restraints crumbled. She took your face in her hands and did what she was literally dreaming about the past few nights - she kissed you. And everything exploded.

Your hands flew to Abby's face and you kissed her back desperately, pressing into her with all you had. Abby locked her arms around your waist so hard your back arched, she needed you close as badly as you needed her.

Abby never felt like this, like every move of your lips on hers set her alight and the hunger she never had before was suddenly making her greedy and desperate to touch you. As if under a spell, Abby pushed you to the couch until you hit it with the back of your knees and sat down so Abby could press you into the seat as you opened your mouth and let her tongue slip inside, making you both groan. Abby felt high from kissing you, the way you were all soft and gentle under her, but not delicate at all, she wasn’t afraid to hurt you because you were real and solid and your fingers on her neck were warm.

And it wasn't enough for Abby, she needed more, she needed to touch your bare skin - so she pushed her hand under your hoodie, kneading your side. You were warm and soft and your scent was all around her, and it was still not enough. She wanted to hear you make the same noise that you made that night for someone else - she wanted you to sigh and whimper and moan for her, she wanted to-

You pressed on her shoulders and Abby backed off, confused.

"We need to slow down." You panted, looking into Abby’s shiny eyes. She was blushing and panting as well, her hand was still on your naked waist, riding up your hoodie enough for her to see your lower stomach. Abby’s eyes went dark as she flicked her eyes from your face to your stomach and back.

"Yeah."

You both didn't move, staring at each other. Abby didn’t want to stop, she wanted to kiss you and touch you and if someone would move away first it would definitely not be her. And then you kissed Abby again, bringing her as close as possible, giving up on any rational thought in your head. You were weak, so when Abby pushed you down on the couch you happily spread your legs for her, getting wet in your pants from how delicious it felt to be opened like that. Abby’s hands roamed across your sides and your hips, groping and kneading your body as if she couldn’t get enough - and she truly couldn’t, appreciating every soft fold she made, every hard ridge digging into her palm. You sighed into her mouth and Abby just needed to press you down into this couch, moving one of her hands to caress your thigh and pull you closer. You felt dizzy, high on Abby's confident, hungry touch, the perfect balance of gentle and rough, so deliciously Abby. No one could touch you like that, like you were hers, your body and your soul, without a hesitation. Abby took what she wanted and you drank it all up.

Abby kissed your jaw and moved down to your neck, leaving an open mouthed kiss just below your ear and you let out a surprised sigh - and Abby’s brain fucking melted. She left more kisses, all shamelessly open, her hot tongue brushing over your skin just to hear you sigh like that. Abby pushed your thighs up so you could close them around her waist and slipped her hand back under your hoodie, getting dangerously close to your tits. That broke the spell on you, bringing you back to reality.

“Abby, wait.” You asked, not comfortable with how fast it was going. Abby looked up to you, waiting for what you wanted to tell her. “We really need to chill.” You caressed her cheek, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down.

Abby wanted to protest, but the horny fog started leaving her head and she understood how overboard she went just now, jumping you like this the moment you reciprocated her feelings. It was too fast.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Abby chuckled and tried to move away, but you didn’t let her, pressing her back to you.

“Just.. lie down.”

Abby listened to you, her hands still under your hoodie, but now she was just caressing your sides gently with her thumbs, sending goosebumps.

“I’ve missed you so much.” You told her as you stroke her hair.

“I’ve missed you too. The worst three days of my life.”

You laughed quietly.

“How did you figure it out?” You asked, curious. Abby sighed, but you waited.

“Oh man, this is embarrassing. I thought I was homophobic, because I hated that you were bringing girls over. Talked to Ellie, figured out I was homophobic to myself.” Abby laughed, and even though you could see the comedy in her words, you couldn't imagine what she had to go through.

“This is such a mind-fuckery.” You said sympathetically. “It must’ve felt so good to realise that.”

“It was. And then I saw you with Vi and what happened happened.”

“Oh god this is fast. Like, did you even have the time to properly process that?”

“Three days with myself would do.” Abby chuckled and you felt the guilt poking your heart.

“Sorry. I felt like I couldn’t just say sorry and move on without telling you about my feelings. But I was scared.” You admitted and Abby hummed, seeing your point. It must've been more scary for you as you knew what was happening in your head and the time turned your fear into full blown terror.

"How long have you known?"

"That I like you? Pretty much from the beginning, but I tried really hard to stop it."

Abby laughed and you tilted your head to look at her, not understanding what was so funny.

"Remember when we hung out for the first time? When we watched that horror movie that offended you so much?"

"Yeah?"

"I was very confused why you were so far away from me. I was already into you by that point."

"I can't imagine what kind of mental somersaults you had to do to keep it hidden from yourself." You sighed and hugged her harder. “I’m very happy you’re free of the straight curse.”

Abby snorted and looked up to you, just staring, unashamed - everything about you was perfect.

“You’re so pretty.” God it felt good to say it freely, say it without shame, without broken syllables and mumbling.

You smiled and looked away, flustered, and Abby watched you with fascination - she’s never seen you like this.

“Thanks.” You tried to stop smiling but you couldn’t, and Abby’s curious and teasing gaze just made you smile more. “No, stop it.” You said, playfully stern.

“Nah, I’ll do it even more now. Seeing you crumble like this is even better than kicking your ass in Mortal Kombat.”

“Oh yeah? I still cook your food.” You threatened.

Before Abby could answer her stomach rumbled and you laughed.

“Let’s go eat.”

And everything was back to normal, but it also wasn’t. You chatted, catching up on these days you spent apart, telling each other the last gossip and complaining about classes - that was normal. But now Abby could hug you from behind and steal a kiss, her high making her bold, and you could abandon whatever you had on the stove and wrap your arms around her neck, kissing her back. Because now you didn’t have to hide from each other, second-guessing motives and actions. Now when you ate and talked you could hold hands and smile bashfully at each other, and the teasing could end in millions of short kisses. You finally let yourself hug Abby from behind while she washed the dishes and tell her what was happening with Caitlyn and Vi.

Later you did your usual cuddle time, and Abby held you in her arms exactly like she wanted to. A few months ago you both sat on that couch - awkward and distant, too afraid of each other - to watch a movie, and now you were lying on it, kissing and cuddling, basking in each other as you gently and innocently explored what was an unattainable dream before, caressing sides and hips and ribs without heat but with a desire to get to know.

Abby swore she started to believe in magic when you touched her.

to: els

(the photo of you and Abby, Abby kissing the top of your head while you lie on top of her with the dopiest, lovesick grin on your face)

from: els

FUCK YEAH

you lucky bitch

You laughed when Abby showed you Ellie's texts and nuzzled into Abby's chest.

"Let's do a sleepover today." Abby said as she kissed your temple.

"Where?"

"In my bed."

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #abby tlou #aligyinmh

500 notes · View notes

ryuichirou · 5 months ago

Note

I apologize if it is too personal but how do you deal with "antishipper" and the way they make callout posts and harassment campaigns against you ? It’s legitimately so scary and it makes me hesitant of posting my own art

Anon! I am very sorry you are going through this horrible feeling of hesitation and anxiety; knowing that people get targeted like that could not only stop you from posting, but stop you from creating altogether, and this is the worst part about this whole thing.

It’s not too personal, and I don’t mind talking about it at all. I’ve talked about our position and our relationship with fandom policing a bunch of times already, so I’m sorry if I’m repeating myself.

I used to be worried about posting certain stuff too. Well, when I was a teen/in my early 20s I wasn’t worried about anything: we had so much juicy stuff posted here lol But then the nsfw ban happened, and the social climate of this app and internet in general started shifting, the first stories about people driven to end their lives because of the hate they received started to come out, and we stopped posting completely. It wasn’t a huge loss to us back then, and this situation wasn’t the only reason why we stopped, but still, it clearly became much more difficult to just appear out of nowhere, throw problematic stuff in your blog and run away again.

I vividly remember us wanting to post my Shingeki no Kyojin drawings and comics based on our AUs and stuff, but not knowing what to do with Ereri – there was no way for us to be “unproblematic” (which was never a concern to us, we just didn’t want to get tons of hate lol) and still post Eren with a man twice his age. So we started posting them without a tag, starting with a drawing that wasn’t too shippy, and then miraculously the world didn’t end. That made us bolder, and we started to post them openly, and posted them for almost two years pretty regularly, alongside some of our other problematic ships + problematic themes. Of course we did get hate, we got a lot of hate while we were posting SnK stuff from all kinds of people, but what we also got a lot of people who found our content refreshing and interesting, even if it was weird and uncomfortable at times.

We weren’t the only people who shipped Ereri (let’s ignore my petty thoughts about the difference between Ereri and Rivaere for now), and we weren’t the only people in Twst fandom who liked Shroudcest, which is another ship that we were super hesitant about posting or even mentioning at first. But with all the hate around I was so certain the world was going to end the moment we post them, and that didn’t happen. The end of the world never happens, but what does happen is that people either get introduced to a fun new dynamic and get invested, or get happy that someone finally posts for the ship they were too afraid to post for. Somehow, when you see some other person being ballsy, you don’t feel as scared anymore – it happened to us with other people’s posts too. Yes, I still say this even though it spawns a bunch of callout posts and harassment, as it did with us. Were we cancelled? Yeah, somewhat. There’s so much you can say about an acc that states “problematic stuff, 18+”, right? I was super relieved and happy, actually, that a lot of people left/blocked us just because they’re the people I’d never want to interact with my art.

I’ve been yapping for a long time already lol so I’ll give you some pieces of advice instead… These are things that legitimately help us.

Surround yourself with people who support you – if not you personally, then at least your ideas (i.e. other proshippers). Luckily, nowadays it’s easier to find them… But also, having a friend who you can vent about these things to helps a lot! It’s cheesy but it’s a fact: when you’re not alone, it’s not as scary.

Always ignore comments/asks from antis and block them on sight, block anonymous asks too. Even if you really want to sass them, it’s much more effective to ignore them: when you give them attention, it invites more engagement from them.

Block people you get bad vibes from. Block those who like or comment bad takes or support harassment of others, block all of their alt accounts. It’s tedious and takes time, but it really helps to keep you hidden from them, at least to some degree. I look up Shroudcest sometimes just to block new people. They try to make fun of me for that, but who cares if it works? You can’t block everyone, but these people usually flock together and it’s usually just a bunch of friends, so taking several posts on these topics from people from the fandom and blocking everyone involved will obliterate the majority of harassers.

In terms of your safety, having multiple accounts in case you main one gets mass-reported helps + I would advice to keep irl stuff away from your fandom stuff just in case.

This is going to sound stupid, but please keep in mind that this isn’t about you. These people are very miserable and not very smart. Even if they try to paint you like a bad person, they don’t know anything about you, so don’t let their judgment affect how you feel about yourself. This is exactly what they want – to have power over you.

Stay strong and take care of yourself, i.e. lock your acc and/or take a break if you feel overwhelmed. Don’t worry, it will pass: it’s very rare for these clowns to keep focus on one person for a long period of time; they have like 5 different dramas per day. There are some absolutely batshit crazy rapid assholes who won’t leave an artist alone for years, but those are super rare and special cases altogether, I don’t think you need to be worried about those.

Keep in mind which fandom you want to do this with, btw. It’s usually okay for the most part, but if the fandom is just a bunch of kids, it’s more likely not worth it or deserves an empty account, at least. Twst is surprisingly good despite anything it might look like! Thanks to Yana being a shotacon and a creator of Kuroshitsuji, I guess. There are many great and supportive people in the twst fandom, it’s been a pleasure to be here, even though, once again, it’s the first fandom where I got a bunch of callout posts and nasty stuff in my ask (SnK fandom usually harassed me for other things).

TL;DR: it is scary, and you could easily get callout posts about yourself, but guess what, you also get to be yourself. Because realistically, callout posts can’t stop you from creating art. They want you to believe that they have power over you, but this isn’t true. Your life online won’t end after some random callout post – mine didn’t. They also don’t understand that each consequent callout post affects the person being called out even less. We do have a minor panic attack for the first hour or so, and it does involve more extra blocking, but mostly it just sours our mood for the day and drops our morale. I still draw, though, out of spite a little lol Oh, and do try to report these types of posts if you get them, there’s nothing wrong with that.

People had been persecuted for their art and ideas for centuries, so what happens now is really nothing new. Without diving into specifics, there are way worse things they could do than writing callouts, but they aren’t super likely to do those. Luckily.

Take care of yourself, but also please don’t doubt yourself; when it comes to your art being way too fun for lovers of censorship to handle, you’re in a very good company. I’m referring to all the artist and writers of this world btw and not just me and Katsu lol but us as well!

#replies

57 notes · View notes

aajjks · 1 year ago

Text

Mommy Issues (IV)

synopsis. They wanted you, they needed you.

pairing. yandere!single dad!jungkook x fem!reader.

warnings. yändêrê bêhãvïöür, 0 tö ä 100 rêäl quïck, ängst, jk ïs kïnda än äss ïn thïs, mänïpülätïön, dëprëssïon, mëntïöns of vïöliêncè.

note. hello y’all. 😳 umm it’s surely been a while… but here’s another update, enjoy! and please share your feedback and thoughts! also send in asks for mi characters as well. AND PLZ DONT FORGET ABOUT MI KOO.

series masterlist.

taglist: @mageprincess7 @bids97 @saltandsugaa @minshookie29 @oppa-agust-d @sugarvenomlit @jinat8mydumplings82 @bloombaekhyun @peach-olic @multifandombishthatlovekth @vcutvante @minshookie29 @douknowbts @xjiminsthighsx @knjkitten @bruisedscrewedandtattooed @koocreampie @kooksmataec @monijeon @swaneffects @dragons-flare @dragonjimin @illnevertrustmyselfagain @itsjust2am @vicki1031 @burnahtsw @fjssk @jamacaicanxbarbie [will tag more people later!]

Jungkook regrets saying that out loud because now you’re gonna think that he’s a creep, or definitely a weirdo. You’re staring at him completely caught off guard and he doesn’t blame you.

But before he can overthink and let his anxiety take over, because of how creeped out you must be at his remark, why did he even say that out loud it was unnecessary… you give him a small smile, and all of his nerves immediately calm down. The effect that you have on him… he’s so in love with you.

“U-Uh I’m so sorry how inappropriate of me… yeah, I remember not in the school, right.. Ms yn I’m so sorry.” Jungkook looks down in his lap, but all he sees is Jeon Seol staring back at his father, with a confused look in his Bambi eyes, even though there’s no no one left except for him, you and his son he still feels really bad because you must feel really uncomfortable.

“Well..” you clear your throat, “I don’t think there’s anything in particular that I need to tell you about the progress of his studies because he’s doing good in them but behavior wise,” your smile, fades a little and you’re all serious now, he notices every inch of your expression.

You look concerned.

“you don’t have to worry about Seol getting lost in the school the assistant teacher will take care of him because there is something that I need to discuss with you about him in private.”

Jungkook looks at you with confusion, because what possibly could you be telling him that you need Seol out of the room for?

“I-Is everything all right?” Jungkook stutters out, his nerves are back once again. You don’t say anything and that just scares me one more because what did his five year old do for you to be so serious? But jungkook has got your hint and he whispers something in his son’s ear before Seol runs off.

You sigh before saying, “Mr. jeon.. I’m a little concerned.”

“On Thursday, Seol punched a student because he said I loved him more than Seol.” You cross your arms across your chest. Your demeanor has completely shifted and you look so serious.

Damn, you look really hot- he’s so focused on you that he doesn’t even listen to what you’re saying that is until the word punched settles in his brain.

“what? W-What?” he’s so confused right now. Jungkook cannot believe that his five-year-old punched someone. “Uhh what?” Dumbfounded he asks you once again.

“Yes… the child was even bleeding…” you shake your head, “as his teacher, I feel like I failed him because he wasn’t an aggressive violent child..” Jungkook doesn’t like the way you get a little sad.

No, it’s not your fault.

“Mr Jeon.. he’s a little possessive… for a five-year-old I don’t think that’s healthy… I mean I love him with all my heart I love all my students, but.. it seems like he wants me to only love him.”

Jungkook wants to scoff. And what is so wrong with that? Yeah he shouldn’t have punched the kid, but the kid must’ve instigated him. But he decides to keep his expressions neutral.

“Is everything all right? you’re his parent and I think it’s my responsibility to let you know everything about him.” The way you speak is so tender, so professional and gentle, but he feels a little pissed off.

You have left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“A-Are you saying that you don’t love him? Or that he’s got a problem?” His could you- can’t you see you’re breaking jungkooks heart right now?

“If only he had a mother…” he sighs, sadly.

Jungkook nods, coughing so he can clear his throat, he doesn’t want to come off as mean, but.. he cannot help it anymore.

“I understand… I think that my son has misunderstood you.” He begins, as he gets closer to your face. “he has confused your role in his life, I’m so sorry for that, but the truth is that he sees you as his mother-rather than a teacher and..” he takes a breath, “you’re not his mother. You’re just his teacher.” He barely manages to resist Make sure that his tone is appropriate.

And you’re speechless.

He immediately sees a change in your expressions and your mouth is a little wide when you hear him say that. “ I’ll make sure that he understands that and he will never do it again I am so sorry.” Jungkook smiles, Before he leans back in the chair.

“I’ll even apologize to the boys parents.” Jungkook just wants to get away from you now, first his father and now you.

This is the worst day ever.

And tomorrow he has to meet his father. Someone kill him.

“can I go now? Also, please could you tell me the boys name?” He is not speaking to you with a smile. As you tell him the boys name and his parents names, he can tell that you’re almost about to cry, for some reason.

That’s how he feels right now too. Maybe you’re not what he thought you were. You will never understand him or his son.

“Well Ms L/N have a good day.” he chooses to address you with your last name as compared to your first… jungkook doesn’t know why he’s feeling so bitter right now, but he feels like you’ve crushed his heart.

He just made him feel like his son has a problem and that you don’t love him. He almost feels a sense of betrayal.

He can just sulk in the car so he gets up before bowing to you, as his son’s teacher, he has to show you some respect, and he picks up Seol’s bag that was on the floor before he ran off, and he’s out of the room.

What a heavy heart, and a heavy conscious.

It’s about time that jungkook lets his son know that you’re not his mother. You’ll never be. You’ll never understand them. Truth is that you’ll never want them and need them like they do.

319 notes · View notes

starrynini05 · 1 year ago

Text

help, I need somebody – ahn yujin x kim gaeul x 7th member!reader

Summary: your leader and your eldest would always be by your side, it’s never to late to ask for help

warnings: mentions of sickness, anxiety, vomiting, fever

tags: idol!au ; reader is '05 liner ; 7th member!reader ; platonic!gaeul x reader ; platonic!yunjin x reader

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, sickfic

word count: 1.3k

a/n: WE ARE SOO BACK‼️‼️, I’m sorry for disappearing, but I’m officially a high school graduate and have time to write again, I hope you like this and expect more regular updates 🫶🏻

Your dynamic in the group was very simple, being, a year and a half older than Leeseo you were in between the youngest and the adults. Apart from you and Leeseo everyone was a legal adult, being more than 19 and already out of school.

You were in the rare middle between not being quite an adult, but not a minor either. With only 17 years of age you still were required to leave events early and go to school, while also being expected to have enough responsibility to fulfill your duties as an idol.

Although you were the second youngest, you were not as nearly as coddled as the maknae and you knew it was mostly your fault. You were added to the lineup really close to debut, being a transfer trainee from SM. This made you reserved and somewhat scared of your teammates, mainly because you were really nervous around new people, and shy in general.

And, even if you longed for that care, you were too shy to willingly ask for it. Now, in your dimly lit room, you lay awake tangled in the sheets, shaking. Your members fast asleep in their respective rooms, blissfully unaware of the turmoil brewing within you.

Earlier that week, yours and Leeseo’s school had canceled classes due to a virus going around. Both of you were thankful that neither of you had caught it, but now you weren't so sure. During practice, you felt more tired than usual and a dull ache had installed in your body, but you gave it no thought.

Now curled up in your bed, trembling and with what you were sure was a high fever, you regretted not saying anything earlier. Nonetheless, refusing to wake the others, you convinced yourself that you could sleep it off and wake up the next morning feeling better.

You had worked so hard to create a perfect facade, you were too embarrassed to let it falter. But, as time went on you only felt worse, transforming it into a relentless torment. Beads of sweat clung to your forehead as you debated whether to wake Yujin and Gaeul. Your heart thumped like a drum, the anxiety of disturbing their slumber almost as unbearable as the pain.

Finally, with a surge of determination, you mustered the courage to knock lightly on their shared room door. Inside the room, both Yujin and Gaeul woke up confused as to why someone was bothering them at 2 a.m. Confusion turned into worry, and Yujin hurried to the door with concern. She was surprised to see you standing there, your usual calm demeanor replaced by an ashen hue of unease.

You cleared your throat, adjusting your posture so you wouldn’t look as fragile as you felt in front of her, at least. You hated looking fragile in front of anyone, let alone them. They were your elders and you didn’t want them to think of you as someone fragile or weak. Sensing your hesitance she broke the silence first “Is everything okay?" she asked, the concern in her voice genuine.

Even then you wanted to resist but she was looking at you with such caring eyes, and you just felt so tired. You sighed in defeat, not quite looking at her face, your voice barely audible as you responded, "I... I'm not feeling well." Yujin's eyes widened, her concern replacing any hint of amusement she might have felt at your shyness. "What's wrong?" she asked while motioning for you to enter the room and lay in her bed.

Your voice trembled with pain while you explained your symptoms, failing to see the frown on her face at your sudden drowsiness. With a tired groan, she helped you lay on the bed, placing her hand against your forehead. As she was about to comment on your high fever you suddenly jolted, a sudden wave of nausea dawning over you. You barely had time to run into a nearby trash can before you were violently sick. Gaeul, who was almost falling asleep, was now wide awake, hearing your retching sounds. She quickly got up and ran to your side, holding your hair back and rubbing your back soothingly. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're going to be fine. Just breathe, alright?" she whispered, trying to calm you down.

Your face was flushed, your body trembling as you leaned over the bin. You felt tears sting your eyes as you emptied your stomach, feeling miserable and weak. You hated being sick, especially in front of them. You didn't want to bother them or make them worry about you. You wanted to be strong and independent, like they were. But right now, you couldn't help but feel grateful for their presence and support.

When you finally stopped throwing up, you leaned back against the bed, feeling exhausted and dizzy. Yujin handed you a glass of water and a wet towel, helping you clean your mouth and face. "How long have you been feeling like this?" she asked, her voice gentle but stern. You hesitated, not wanting to admit the truth. "Um... around 1 hour ago, I guess." you lied, hoping they wouldn't notice.

They did. Yujin and Gaeul exchanged a look of disbelief and disappointment. "An hour ago?" Yujin repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Because we saw you looking pale and tired during practice, and you barely ate anything at dinner. And you didn't say anything to us. Why didn't you tell us you were sick?"

You felt a surge of guilt and shame, knowing you had been caught. You lowered your eyes, avoiding their gaze. "I... I didn't want to bother you. You have so much to do, and I didn't want to be a burden. I thought I could handle it on my own. I'm sorry." you mumbled, feeling small and pathetic.

Yujin and Gaeul sighed, shaking their heads. They moved closer to you, wrapping their arms around you in a warm hug. "You're not a bother, or a burden, or anything like that. You're our friend, our teammate, our family. We care about you, and we want you to be happy and healthy. You don't have to handle everything on your own. You can always ask us for help, or tell us how you feel. We're here for you, no matter what. Do you understand?" Yujin said, her voice soft and sincere.

Gaeul nodded, adding her own words of comfort. "Yeah, what she said. You're amazing, and talented, and beautiful, and we love you so much. You don't have to hide your feelings or pretend to be okay when you're not. You don't have to be perfect, or strong, or anything else. You just have to be yourself, and that's enough for us. You're enough, okay?"

You felt a wave of emotion wash over you, making you choke up. You couldn't believe how lucky you were to have them in your life, how much they cared about you, how much they accepted you. You nodded, feeling a smile tug at your lips. "Okay. Thank you. I love you too." you said, hugging them back.

They smiled, kissing your cheeks and forehead. "You're welcome. We're glad you're feeling better." they said, tucking you in the bed. "Now, you need to rest. We'll stay with you until you fall asleep, and then we'll call the manager and the doctor in the morning. Don't worry about anything, we'll take care of everything. Just focus on getting well, alright?"

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief and gratitude. You closed your eyes, feeling their warmth and love surround you. You drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and secure in their arms. You knew you had nothing to fear, as long as they were with you. You knew you had found your home, with them.

#ive x reader #ive yujin #gaeul x reader #yujin x reader #ahn yujin #kim gaeul #ahn yujin x reader #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kpop gg #ive #sickfic #kpop sickfic #k films

166 notes · View notes