#on paper it sounds like my worst nightmare

[vampiremotif]

its so hard to pitch its always sunny in philadelphia to people, because on the surface, if i give you a description of the show, its GOING to sound like the worst thing in the world: its a bunch of white people who own a bar in philadelphia and do everything possible to touch every sensitive and taboo subject on the show from a comedic angle. i knew this was the case, and i avoided the show for years because i thought it would be self-righteous and obnoxious as all get out (sometimes it is. a sword is double edged etc.) the show never takes itself too seriously. every once in awhile it reminds me of the seinfeld mantra “no hugs no learning.” these are horrible people. who do horrible things. thats the point. it takes a couple episodes before you match its stride (the first ep notably has a main white character say the n word. this is not the only slur said on the show. no one is safe really) but its really something you just have to experience to find out if its for you. its absurd. everyones in the cast is clearly a theater kid. there are more musical numbers than i care to count. am i selling the show or making it sound worse. who’s to say

[lixbf]

ahahah dont you just love it when a silly tiktok has you suddenly researching whether or not you have smth bc it was just a tiny bit too relatable?

[rosenclaws]

Would You Fall In Love with Me Again || Worst!Logan x Reader

Would you fall in love with me again If you knew all I've done? The things I cannot change Would you love me all the same? I know that you've been waiting, waiting for love

warnings: angsty af, happy ending, sad logan.

wc: 1.5k

a/n: I heard this song and immediately pictured Logan so this fic was cooked up! I hope y'all like it <3 I'd recommend listening to the song while reading or before or after! Its a great musical btw

Logan holds the small piece of paper in his hands. It's been crumpled and flattened countless times. He turns it over in his hands, the faded black in is just bright enough to read. He glances down at it again. Written on it is an address. Laura's words playing over and over in his head.

Find her. She would want to see you.

Would you? Would you want to see him? He's not the same man that you knew. He's not your man. He's not the hero you remember. He's just a broken, tired, old man. He's a coward.

Laura gave him your address shortly after he came to his world. But he never went. He was afraid. This tiny slip of paper would keep him up at night. If the nightmares didn't get to him first than this stupid, little paper did. He debated on throwing it away.

You didn't need him. You were better off without him. But was he? You were his better half. Always had been. Just one look, a meeting. Closure. So he set off to find you one last time.

Each foot step weighs heavy as he marches to your front door. A small cabin tucked away from the the busy town only a few miles away. This is his handiwork. Logan always promised you that he'd build you a house one day, when you two were done with all the X-Men bullshit.

He had already written out the plans back before...before he lost you. Initials are carved into one of the wood boards. His fingers running over the letters, tracing them as his mind floods with memories of you.

He raises his fist and knocks at your door. His ears straining to hear you move behind the wooden door. Though if you didn't answer he couldn't blame you. He's the ghost of the man you once loved standing on your doorstep. He waits and waits and nothing.

His shoulders sag in defeat. What was he thinking? This was stupid. He takes the paper and crumbles it up in his hands, throwing it as far as he could into the woods.

"Pretty sure that's littering." He freezes at the sound of your voice. He knows it's you. He doesn't need to see your face, this voice had been haunting his nightmares for years.

"Logan?" He nearly falls to his knees. His name sounds so sweet coming from your lips. He hasn't heard it in so long. Ever so slowly he turns around, a part of him afraid this is another dream.

"Is it really you?" You're holding a grocery bag, dressed up for the cold weather. He's frozen as you walk up to him. Your eyes shine with tears as your hand reaches out for him.

"Please tell me its you." Your hand cups his face.

Thumb lightly brushing over his face. He looks different. He looks tired. So much pain behind those gorgeous eyes. He melts into your touch. He clenches his fists at his side as he leans his head into your hand.

"My love, how I've missed you." Logan opens his eyes to see the wedding band sitting on your finger. He never got the chance to give that to you.

"Sweetheart...I'm not the same man." He wishes he was. God he wishes he could sweep you up in his arms. Runaway and live in this cabin for all eternity. You smile softly. Your hand leaves his face and he visibly sinks.

"Come inside yeah?" Without thinking he takes the grocery bag out of your hands and follows you inside. There's not much inside.

"Laura told me about you, she sent letters when she came back." You explain as you reach into the fridge and pull out a beer, his favorite.

"I buy a new pack every week, in case you ever showed up." You smile when you talk but Logan can only focus on the bottle in front of him. The guilt eating him alive.

"I'm so sorry." He chokes out.

"For what?" You ask. He looks at you in disbelief, how could you be so forgiving, so welcoming.

"I'm not your husband. I-I'm not the man you fell in love with." He places the beer on the counter. If he closes his eyes he can picture you and him in this little cabin. Be the family you both always wanted. But he's not yours.

"I know you aren't. I'm not a fool Logan. But..." He's not your husband, he's different. He's not a replacement for the man you once loved but your love for Logan was stronger than anything you've ever felt.

"Would you fall in love with me again? You don't know what I've done. I'm not worthy of the love you gave to him." A tear slips down Logan's face.

He sinks to the ground, on his knees. Silently begging to be loved by you once again. The shame of his past chains him to the ground, he can't even look at you.

"What did you do my love?" You cup his face and tilt his head up.

"I lost you, I lost everyone. I can still smell your blood, I can still hear your voice calling to me. But I walked away." He grabs onto your wrists and holds onto them desperately.

"I walked away from you." You wipe away a tear that falls down his cheeks. His normally stoic face crumbles into a mess of despair and loneliness.

"I needed to numb myself. I started drinking, I started killing. I left a trail of blood in my wake." He expects you to cower away from him. To be disgusted with what he's done.

"Once I started, I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. I was so angry, so buried in my grief that the only thing I could feel was rage." The grip on your wrists is firm and tight. Not to the point of pain but he's locked around your hands. Please don't leave him again, please.

"Forgive me." You drop his face and it hangs low, ashamed of what he's revealed to you. You've been waiting for him, all this time only to come and disappoint you.

"If you think that's true, that you're not the same man I feel in love with. Then leave."

"W-What?" He's taken aback.

"You want me to leave?"

"I don't want you to leave but you keep saying you're not the same man. So if you truly believe that, than leave." Logan is stunned to silence.

"No." He says without thinking. He's spent every night missing you, thinking of you. You're here in front of him, it's not the same you but he still loves you. He will always love you.

"I can't leave you, I just found you again I...I won't." He stands up and takes your hand.

"This wedding band, I bought it after out first date. I knew, that I was in love with you but I was so scared to lose you." Tears fall down your face as he presses your hand against his face.

"I ended up losing you anyways."

"He told me that story when he proposed." You say softly. He may be from another universe but he will always be the love of your life.

"You asked if I'd fall for you again, how could I not?" He presses his forehead to yours, noses knocking together as you get to take in the man before you.

"I will always love you. I don't care how you got here, where you're from or what you've done. " You close your eyes as Logan wraps you up in his arms. Holding you close as he whispers apologies.

"No matter how long its been, you're mine." You kiss Logan fiercely, tasting the man who you've longed to hold in your arms again.

He's equally as desperate to feel you. His hands squeezing your sides gently as he walks you back until you hit the wall. Your hands run through his hair, the feeling of your wedding band in his hair only eggs him on.

Silently he thanks the universe for bringing him to you, for your forgiving, loving nature. He would have begged on his knees for a chance like this. He growls when you tug on his hair. His hand slipping up your shirt just to feel your skin. When you finally part he refuses to stay too far.

"Tell me Logan, how long as it been." Your heart aches to think of the pain he's been through. The life he's had to live without anyone to calm his self loathing thoughts.

"I can't even remember." He sounds so tired as he buries his face in your neck.

"It's okay, I'm here now."

"I love you." He whispers, a sense of relief washing over him as he utters the words he thought he'd never get to say again.

You had been waiting for him to come home and you would have waited until the day you too your last breath. He's worth it, all that waiting was worth it for you to call Logan yours.

"I love you too Logan, forever."

[meowpupp]

as a thank you for hitting 1k followers, and an apology for my absence, I would like to share my take on poly!141.

poly141! x recruit!reader. 1.5k words. mentions of sex, although no smut. yet.

you're a sweet little thing. smart as a whip, nerdy, and confident. having spent most of your post highschool graduate years studying, youve acquired numerous impressive qualifications. while most people your age in university were out partying, getting blind drunk, hooking up, you were studying.

a tech genius. that's what laswell had sold you as to price. he had been hesitant to allow any new members at all, especially ones so young. and yet, taskforce 141 sees two new additions. the newest little tech genius who's climbing quickly through the ranks, and another soldier. someone by the name of roach.

at first, you weren't amused. as a woman in the military, your life was already difficult enough. being assigned to an all male taskforce felt like your worst nightmare. but after some convincing from laswell, and realizing this would be the fastest way to make a name for yourself, you sign the papers.

your first week is smooth, albeit awkward. you and the other new recruit, roach, get along fairly well. he's funny, a little dorky, but obviously skilled. he isn't as intimidating as the others, being almost as young as you. you find yourself gravitating to him often, often staying up late together, eating meals together, and even training together. you make quick friends.

and so, it's only natural that you both end up becoming… closer. late night talks turn into makeouts, and makeouts turn into grinding. it's somewhat clumsy however… as if the two of you can quite place the power dynamics.

the others, however, are much more of a challenge to get along with. you're cautious, aware these men have been in this business much longer than you. the four of them- price, ghost, gaz, and soap- are a power unit. it takes weeks for you to find your place within the team.

price tries to be welcoming, although it doesn't quite work. there's this sense of authority and power around him that makes you feel small, almost submissive. his gruff voice sends shivers down your spine each time he speaks over comms, panties growing wet each time he gives you a direct order.

it's almost as if he knows, whispering your name rather than your military nickname. his voice sounds almost seductive. it makes you feel like a pervert, imagining him growling in your ear each time you get off.

price has a way of always remaining in control and not just with you. the power dynamics within the task force are subtle yet well established. there seems to be a chain of command that follows their ranks. price on top, then ghost, then gaz and soap. you notice how they all drop casual innuendos, their affection for each other, corssing over the boundary of just friendliness.

ghost barely looks, let alone, speaks to you for the first month. you're unsure if he even likes you. on the field, he's sharp and alert. you occasionally hear him share banter with the others, but never feel brave enough to join in. the man is intimidating, almost three times your size, a quiet sort of confidence and dominance that follows him around. he's the one you train with most often.

ghost is ruthless. he slams you into the matt, somehow always ending up between your thighs, his big hands holding them apart and pinning you down. you can't help but memorise the sight. your Lieutenant, panting, slightly sweat as he holding you in such a lewd position, glaring down at you.

it's your favourite fantasy to think about late at night as you touch yourself, unaware that the walls are so thin that ghost himself hears you whimper his name. he strokes himself in time with the slick noises of your cunt, imagining how desperate you must look.

gaz isn't intimidating, per say. he isn't distant like ghost or unapproachable like price. the man has such a casual confidence and arrogance around him. he's the first to speak to you, ask you about yourself. throughout your career, you've met many military soldiers. most the men fit into two categories, misogynistic dicks who don't believe you have a place within the ranks, or disgusting perverts who want a quick fuck (most of them have wives, even kids.) but gaz is refreshing. he fits into neither.

he often starts conversations with you. asking questions and truly listening as you speak. little do you know he records each one, saving them for when he's alone late at night. something about the way you speak, your tone, the quiet rasp or accent, it makes him stupidly hard. he's not above recording you while you workout, standing just close enough to capture each huff and grunt as you lift. it's those recordings that get him off the quickest, wondering how whiny youd sound if he held a vibrator to your clit, didnt let up until you were crying and covered in slick.

and soap. the man is difficult for you to read. your first impression is that he's one of those men who fit into the ‘misogynistic asshole’ category. apart from your initial meeting, he practically ignores you.

you can tell its not deliberate. he just seems more immersed in the natural, pre-established dynamic of the taskforce. the one that doesn't include you. it takes a while, but after a month or two, your interactions become more common.

he turns out to be very respectful- even helpful. due to your background in tech, you skipped a few ranks when you joined. soap helps you in the shooting range. standing behind you, body pressing into yours from behind, correcting your posture before you fire.

you even create games with each other. he gives you little quizzes. theyre normally about gun components, military jargon, or even field upgrades. with each quiz he promises a ‘reward.’

its embarrassing whenever you blush and grow wet when he says it. the rough growl of his voice, combined with the accent he has, all makes you dizzy. you don't even notice how he plays it up, practically purring out the word, smirking as you squirm, making sure to graze his fingertips over your hot skin.

it's obvious that after a month or two, that roach is significantly more acclimated than you. it feels unfair. your relationship with each member is steadily growing, yet something about how roach interacts with them is so different. it's like you're missing a puzzle piece.

it isn't until one night when you're venting your frustration that roach reveals the reason he's clicked with them so quickly.

“It's like an initiation,” he smirks, eyes flicking away from you, “think of it kind of like…. hazing.” his eyes are almost predatory as he meets yours again, so unlike the goofy persona he usually has, “if you like, I could speak to price. they have started to discuss inviting you in.”

it's as if everything made sense now. it wasn't your fault. it was another case of discrimination, you being left out because you didn't fit into their stupid boys club.

ever since that conversation with roach, you have become frustrated, irritable, and short with them all. you fulfilled all your required tasks but refused to engage with them any further. denying invites to the pub, ignoring gaz when he tried to speak, training alone, no longer asking soap for help.

after about a week of this, price calls you to his office.

a sick sense of unease and anxiety settles in your gut. the man is so intimidating, and this surely wasn't a positive meeting. you've never been in a position like this. all throughout school, you were a grade A student, and within your years in the military, you've always maintained basic respect and politeness. you've never been in trouble with a CO.

when you step into his office, however, all your expectations are subverted. price sits at his desk, smoking a cigar. roach leans against it next to him. the two of them are speaking lowly.

price notices you first. his eyes carry an emotion you haven't seen before. lust. he's staring at you as if you're some sort of prey. with a smirk, he blows out a large puff of smoke. it curls around him, only making him more intimidating.

“if you were feeling excluded, sweetheart, you should've made me aware.” he leans back in his chair. suddenly, the room feels so small, your body getting hot, “id be more than happy to include you.”

roach walks towards you, guiding you further into the office. he doesn't let you sit, however, instead standing behind you, hands groping your hips. his fingertips slip under your shirt, brushing the sensitive skin of your stomach.

he kisses your neck, “price wants to see how pretty you are,” his hands slide further up, taking your shirt off, “let's give him a show, yeah?”

cont.

[blue-jisungs]

ancient runes and sea creatures

summary. leehan ends up in his worst nightmare - getting the perfect student into trouble

au. hogwarts!!!! ravenclaw!reader x hufflepuff!leehan

word count. 4722 (got a lil too carried away... )

warnings , extras. leehan is intimidated by reader ?? but in a like. impressed way?? also reader is a head girl prefect!!. a slightly suggestive implication at one point but like, its misinterpreted ++ a bunch of hogwart lingo and lore (?). use od leehans real name. mention of a creature that eats humans

author's note. a biiig thank u to @slytherinshua and @gluion for pushing me out of my writers block w this one!!! and esp moni, who tbh came up w this plot!!! i hhope u like it!!! it kinda took a self-indulent route for me (ancient runes as chinese characters haha... haha... and leehan being a mid student w niche hobbies vs the perfect student yn who! shocker! likes! studying... hahah....ha.....) ANYWHO. also love u to death @l3visbby for proofreading!! where would i be w/o u atp....

also i wanted to post one last thing in 2024!!! so i hope u enjoy it and get ready bc ive been cooking <3

leehan fixed his glasses, fingers brushing against the coarse pages of his favorite book. then, he glanced at his notebook. filled from top to bottom with neat, medium sized, handwritten text. here and there were loose sketches and photographs attached with fish shaped paper clips.

the hufflepuff boy looked up at his gryffindor friends - jaehyun and woonhak. they were chatting about something loudly, the sound of their voices blending in with the noise in the corridor. 

sunlight peeked from behind the windows leehan was leaning against, making him feel even more indulged in his own world. 

“we’ll keep going. don’t wanna be late for potions!” jaehyun suddenly announced in his ear and ruffled his hair ��see you, donghyun!” 

he just smiled in return, woonhak having goodbye. 

before returning to his book, he let out a small sigh and started looking at the students passing him by. a lot of friends giggling and talking, some people studying or snacking on colorful candy. 

then, as if a lightning struck him, he tensed upon noticing you. 

you were walking with fast pace yet not hurried one. the navy and grey colored tie rustled on the wind, your hair waving gently. a small frown was painting on your graceful features.

“what do you mean sungho is not showing up? i need everyone there” you asked, glancing at your ravenclaw friend for explanation. however, they did not have any. 

“no idea, y/n! he just told me to tell you and wandered off… you have to–” they started. 

“i don’t have to do anything. we have to cooperate if we want everything work out” with a scoff, you turned your gaze away and locked eyes with leehan for a mere moment. 

he felt blood rushing to his cheeks, quickly glancing down at his book. you looked scary. no, intimidating. 

“this thing isn’t here by accident” you gently tapped your head girl badge with pride. “let’s go to class now. i’ll catch sungho later” 

leehan didn’t even realize he was holding in a breath - only when the sound of your voice faded away, he released it. 

he tilted his head and smiled softly, flipped through the pages. he only stopped when he saw a detailed print of a basilisk. quite terrifying yet devilishly smart creature. 

leehan closed the book and packed his belongings, slowly going towards his classroom. 

“oh come on, don’t be such a loner!” riwoo’s whines reached nearby standing student’s ears, causing them to look over at the hufflepuffs. leehan cleared his throat and let out a sigh of defeat.

“fine. who else is going? you know i don’t enjoy crowded places in particular…” he started but his friend already started pushing him towards the exit.

“well you, me, jaehyun, woonhak… and, drumroll please! yes, you guessed it! two infamous slytherins, park sungho and han taesan!” riwoo grinned. leehan nodded, satisfied. that’s a perfect amount of people. “and hanbin”

“just hanbin?” leehan frowned, suspicious. riwoo smiled awkwardly, forcing his friend to move faster.

“and sohee!” riwoo hesitated. 

“and…?” leehan grunted, halting in place.

“that’s all! i promise!” sanghyeok put his hand over his heart “hufflepuff’s honor!”

leehan just scoffed and followed his friend to three broomsticks. it was weekend, after all. going out with more than two people once in a while won’t hurt him, surely. 

it was warm inside, the smell of delicious food hitting his nostrils. donghyun was quick to spot his friends (and their friends). lately jaehyun was detachable from sohee and hanbin. 

eight butterbeers were already waiting on the table, sticking to the wood. 

“you made it, woah! you have my respect!” woonhak, the youngest, joked. sungho patted the seat next to him and leehan sat down, smiling awkwardly. 

“and you? shouldn’t you be on the prefect meeting or whatever?” taesan asked suddenly, sungho rolling his eyes. 

“i should. but if i skip one, nothing will happen” he shrugged, reaching for his butterbeer. 

“y/n seemed pretty upset about it” the words slipped out of leehan’s lips before he could realize it. everyone looked at him, a bit shocked, so he quickly added: “i heard it when she was passing me by. nothing crazy, it’s not like i talk to her or something” 

the mere thought of standing near you terrified him, not to mention talking. donghyun didn’t know how sungho –  or anyone, really – was doing that. 

“she’s being dramatic. miss perfect… she decided to be in charge of organizing almost everything this year, at least it feels like it” sungho mumbled. 

“yeah, it’s crazy how she manages to do it all. well, let’s just hope she won’t cast melfors jinx on you” jaehyun teased 

“his head is as big as a pumpkin already, though” taesan snickered and was met with sungho’s fist on his shoulder. 

you were sitting on the grass, crossing out the ideas that seemed foolish. the weather was cold, yet snow hasn’t fallen yet. even though it was november, you were in charge of organising events for students that are going to stay at hogwarts during christmas. you being one of them. 

well, it wasn’t fully your responsibility - other prefects were supposed to help. 

“stupid sungho…” you mumbled, wrapping your scarf tighter around your neck. 

you looked up and adored the view in front of you. the last of leaves falling off trees, being swept by wind. here and there you could see some students but during this cold season, majority preferred to stay inside. then, you noticed a particular silhouette. 

someone was squatting dangerously close to the lake. 

you stood up, packing your belongings in a rush. 

as you approached the reckless student, you noticed the yellow and black colors of hufflepuff. of course. you opened your mouth to scold their behavior but you heard a quiet murmur. 

“hm? how did you get here, little one? you belong to the island. you couldn’t have possibly swam over here” 

you leaned a bit forward and peeked over the hufflepuff student’s shoulder. he was gently reaching his pointer finger out to a bowtruckle.

the small, green creature was staring at the stranger, big brown eyes blinking slowly. it slowly meet half-way with the person’s finger. 

“you’re not as shy as you friends” a low chuckle made you smile “i should get you back there… but how?” 

the person rose their head up and looked around. the bowtruckle pointed at you. 

“oh?” the student tilted their head and looked through their shoulder, meeting your curious gaze. you gasped, getting caught. 

the guy’s eyes widened, lips tightening. 

“oh” he mumbled. you frowned, his features looking somehow similar. 

the hufflepuff boy stood up, acting as if he did not just hid the small creature in his pocket. he tried to walk away but you stopped him. 

“hey! it’s dangerous to be out here” you cleared your throat. the guy stopped in his tracks, back facing you “do you have an idea what kind of beasts are there?”

a soft smile cracked on his lips, eyes trained on the ground. 

“kelpies, grindylows, selkies… and oh, the giant squid. man, they are so…” he whispered and you were certain he thought his words didn’t reach you. yet, they did. you smiled, realizing he was probably another creature-obsessed student.

“anyway, i do appreciate your care towards this little fella. however, it would be better if hagrid took care of him” you looked at him with a straight face. the hufflepuff boy kept avoiding eye contact and failed to notice the silly bowtruckle escaping from his pocket. 

the green creature ran down his pants and started making circles around you. 

“i, uh… i don’t know how to hold him” you scoffed, trying to catch it. 

“like this. make sure not to tug the leaf on its head…” he breathed out and caught the bowtruckle, holding it in two hands. 

awkward silence fell between you two, the boy stubbornly keeping his head low. 

“i’ll keep going” he mumbled and wandered off to hagrid’s hut, leaving you puzzled and somehow intrigued.

“hey, chill out” sungho nudged your shoulder, casing your fountain pen to jerk and leave a crooked line. you glared at him.

“i would if someone helped me. i still have to come up with ideas for the three last days and i need to turn them in to mcgonagall by friday” you huffed and tossed your notebook aside. 

sungho puffed his cheeks and looked over at taesan for help. he just shrugged, carelessly tucking his hands into his pockets.

“don’t look at me. i’m not even a prefect” his cat-alike smirk made you even more frustrated.

“okay, well… maybe try asking some students what would they want to do?” sungho proposed, scanning your face to gauge your reaction. you let out a small huff.

“see, here we go. thanks. now i just have to ask around who’s staying…” you groaned and noted down the idea, closing your notebook. “but i’ll do that later. now i’ll go, i promised professor snape to help him clean the classroom. a reckless student just… caused a mess, so to say” 

the exchanged amused looks and you raised your eyebrows. 

“what?” 

“nothing. have fun” sungho snorted. his gaze suddenly snapped up to someone else and he waved. you noticed three people walking up. 

one of them looking similar.

“hey, myungjae, do you happen to know someone who’s staying at hogwarts during christmas?” sungho asked, leaning on the table. your fingers twitched at the sight of him almost spilling a cup of juice with his elbow.

“well, uh… our leehan and ricky, i think. and zhanghao. and hanbin, he promised to stay with them so they wouldn’t feel lonely” a boy in gryffindor uniform answered and looked at you, a wide smile painting on his lips.

“you’re staying?” taesan asked. you looked at the only hufflepuff boy in the group. so that was leehan?

“yeah” he answered shortly, purposefully averting his gaze from you. 

“why–?” taesan kept asking and you just sighed. 

“is there anything you would like to do? during the break. i need to organize events for students so i figured it would be the best idea to ask them personally” you crossed your arms. 

everyone looked at the guy, his head tilted down and eyes glued to his shoes. 

“what’s up with him?” the other gryffindor student whispered. 

you waited for a moment before shaking your head. that seemed to work on the boy - he finally looked at you, shyly. 

“it’s a hard question, i know. just… hit me up once you figure it out” you sent him a soft smile and went your way. 

“what’s up with you? is the potion blowing up in your  face still on your mind?” jaehyun laughed and nudged leehan’s shoulder. 

“so that was him after all” taesan snickered. 

“chill out, donghyun. y/n is really cool, don���t need to be all tensed up around her” sungho teased. leehan looked around, scanning the great hall. some people were looking their way - but that was probably nothing serious, right? just a bunch of losers, a prefect and the head girl prefect that’s an all a student.

“earth to leehan! why are you staying here?” jaehyun asked, waving his hand before the hufflepuff boy’s eyes. 

a playful smile painted on leehan’s lips before he explained his reasons to his friends. 

rushing through the dark hallway, you pressed your textbook closer to your chest. it was way past the curfew and you hoped flich was done with his late patrols on this side of the castle. you just happened to get too focused on ancient runes and–

“oof-!”

you felt the impact of bumping into something and almost landed on the ground when a strong hand prevented you from falling. you squeezed your eyes, the darkness not allowing you fully to recognize the stranger.

“y/n…?” his soft voice rang familiar and you glanced at his uniform. the yellow badge with a proud badger adorned his chest.

“leehan, right?” you scoffed and he helped you regain balance, taking a step back. that way, the moonlight sneaking through the windows fell on his face, highlighting his features. 

he fixed his glasses, brows slightly furrowed.

“what are you doing here?” you whispered, blinking slowly. even though your prefect instincts kicked in, you were genuinely curious. 

this boy had just a mysterious aura to him. always so aloof, almost distant. nowadays, you caught yourself noticing him, usually alone reading a book or doing something. something, indeed. just like when you saw him near the lake. he always seemed to be looking for some kind of creatures. you couldn’t help but wonder what he was up to.

“i… uh, i was researching” he smiled gently. his gaze was fixed on you - unlike other times. maybe he didn’t feel so shy now that the midnight darkness was surrounding you two. you thought it was cute. “and, uh… you?”

“ancient runes. they are quite relaxing to me, it’s just… i write them all over to remember how they look. once i nail that i feel like i can read them properly. but just the writing itself… is, yeah. time consuming but fun” you smiled and nudged his arm gently “let’s go together, our dorms are in the same direction”

he nodded and followed you, the quiet sound of footsteps echoing through the corridor.

“did you think about the question? it’s okay if you haven’t, i was just curious” you asked, glancing at him.

“personally, strolling around hogwarts at such hour is nice. i wouldn’t mind it if i was able to do it without the possibility of getting in trouble” he answered. you agreed.

“i haven’t thought about that. hm. maybe it’ll be possible since there’s gonna be less students. i’ll talk to mcgonagall about it” you hummed “thanks” 

“and, uh, did you get it all done? like, the events” his voice was quiet. he wasn’t shy but more so, he was cautiously picking his words. 

“yes but there’s not going to be much. people i asked didn’t seem interested” you sighed.

“it’s a shame, you’ve been working hard to come up with anything” leehan sent you a reassuring smile. a strange glint sparkled in his eye, some kind of sadness. 

“what can i do? i guess they want to be alone, apparently” you scoffed.

“meow”

you two froze, feet glued to the floor. leehan looked at you, wide eyed. 

before you could realize, he was pulling you to hide behind a column. with your head squished against his chest, you could hear his heart pounding as if it was about to rip out of his ribcage. 

his hand naturally rested on your head, the soft fanning of his breath against your hair. 

the sound of footsteps was coming closer and closer as you tried to think of something. 

a sudden beam of light caused leehan to squint his eyes, pulling you slightly closer. 

“what an absurd! not only it is after curfew, you are also… doing things that should be kept private! this place is coming to an end! who would have thought, students… of opposite-!”

“what? no! it’t not like that!” you choked out, turning around on your heel. 

“mrs l/n?!” filch gasped, and mrs norris’ loud meow was almost soul ripping “out of all people! you?”

“no, it’s not like that! we just…” leehan’s voice was quiet, almost stuttering. 

“yes? explain your red faces then! someone who was caught wouldn’t be such a blushing mess! dear merlin, what is going on with those youngsters nowadays!” the caretaker whined.

“we weren’t doing anything, mr filch! we just- we tried to hide! from you, it is. not from you as in… we didn’t-” you tried to explain. when you turned around to check up on the ravenclaw boy, he was indeed as red as the gryffindor representative color. his eyes were glued to the ground and you could swear you saw sweat dripping down his temple.

“detention!”

his eyes snapped up, wide as two prophecy orbs. panic written all over his face, fingers fiddling. 

“it’s my fault. let’s not bring y/n into this” he spoke up, swallowing hard. 

“how so? i see you two. not just you, boy” mr filch said with an attitude, picking up mrs norris. “i’m not repeating myself. detention. madam pince needs help in the library, so it’s just perfect” 

“but-” leehan tried to cut in but the cat interrupted him with an aggressive hiss. 

“now go! before i take points from your houses!” the caretaker tsked and you ran off, grabbing his hand. you could only hear distant murmurs “the head girl… youngsters are getting worse and worse each year…”

once out of his reach, almost at the ravenclaw dormitory, you realized you’re still holding his hand. leehan halted, gasping.

“i’m so sorry, y/n! i don’t know what’s gotten into him but i’ll do it myself. please, don’t bother–” the hufflepuff boy started rambling, avoiding your gaze. was he scared you’re angry at him?

you gently put your hand on his arm.

“hey” 

leehan slowly looked into your eyes; however, just for a split second. his breath was heavy in the silence. 

“it’s alright. i can handle one detention. in the library? it sounds like a pleasure to me” you huffed, trying to cheer him up. poor boy, he must’ve really felt guilty. “he got so pissed because he has never felt the touch of a woman. mr filch got jealous, that’s all” 

you chuckled but leehan remained quiet. well, maybe that was a failed attempt at trying to cheer him up. 

“i, uh. anyway, i’m sorry too. don’t beat yourself about it, okay?” you whispered, patting his arm. leehan’s small nod made you content. “sleep well, leehan” 

he felt your hand slip off his shoulder. 

maybe if he wasn’t too ashamed to look up, he would’ve noticed the way you looked back at him before entering the dormitory.

leehan was standing between the bookshelves, enjoying the smell of books. the library was quiet, thanks to the majority of students having left already. even madam pince wandered off to somewhere. 

“hi”

he turned his head to the side and was shocked to see you. out of your ravenclaw uniform, at that.

“hi” he whispered and quickly returned his gaze to the book he was holding. he gulped nervously, his adam’s apple bobbing.

it was his worst nightmare, actually. bringing the all-star student into detention with him. even though the fault was technically on both sides, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. you should be resting and not… 

“how’s it going?” you asked quietly, standing next to him. your back faced the bookshelf he was facing, side profiles matching. 

“it’s quite pleasant, to be frank” he mumbled in response “you didn’t have to come here”

you scoffed and scanned all the books, laying in messy piles. they really needed reorganizing.

“would i really be able to call myself a student without getting in trouble even once?” you snickered, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “i told you not to worry about it, leehan”

silence fell between you two, only the sound of him flipping the pages bringing warm comfort.

“it’s donghyun, actually” he said softly with a twinge of happiness. you cocked your head and glanced at him, grabbing a random book. “leehan is a nickname that just… stayed. donghyun is my real name”

“it’s pretty” it slipped out of your lips before you could realize, so you just hung your head low and decided to think of a strategy on how to resort the books. leehan smirked and put the book he was holding on one of the shelves. to break the awkward tension you accidentally created, you cleared your throat “uh, did you take care of that bowtruckle back then?”

“bowtruckles aren’t really my thing so i took it to hagrid. he promised me to get it back to its home tree” he hummed, reaching for another book. he ran his fingers over the navy colored cover, the remaining letters of a handwritten title barely there anymore.

“so what is, then?” you asked. 

even though you didn’t have to be quiet, you two kept talking softly. you couldn’t put your finger on it but maybe it was the overall atmosphere of the library. alas, you wouldn’t say you minded. it was comforting.

“sea creatures” donghyun answered with a soft sigh. did you irritate him? 

“sorry. you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. i’m just curious about you” you mumbled. 

your shoulders were touching and you felt his arm move now and then whenever he reached out to put away a book. 

leehan hummed in deep thought, far away with his thoughts - hence, he didn’t hear you.

he never would have thought that he would be conversing with you. you were just so out of his league and intimidated him. good grades, friends with everyone… but deep down it was your organization skills. you just had it all together. despite all those side things you took care of, you still managed to find time to study. heck, you even liked it? he recalled your conversation from the hallway. what did you say about ancient runes…?

“they are quite relaxing to me, it’s just… i write them all over to remember how they look. once i nail that i feel like i can read them properly. but just the writing itself… is, yeah. time consuming but fun.” 

how can one find thousands of new icons to learn, memorise and remember… relaxing. he was a bit jealous that you did it so effortlessly. 

and sure, he heard you complaining about tests and exams. but you still passed with ease. unlike him, who no matter how much he studied, still barely passed. 

“ouch!”

a soft thump of a book falling brought him back to life. 

he leaned down to pick it up but only bumped against your forehead. 

blood rushed to his cheeks out of embarrassment. but you just giggled and took the book, putting it back. 

he must have been zoned out for a while because he noticed you did one of the shelves already. 

you grabbed another book. it had a black cover and no title whatsoever. you started flipping pages to check what even it’s about. leehan, who was peeking through your shoulder, saw a glimpse of an interesting drawing.

“the giant squid” he placed his finger before you closed the book. you were startled a bit and looked around to meet his face quite close to yours. 

yet, his brown eyes were fixated on the creature.

“do you know it’s semi-domesticated? on the chocolate frog cards its described as “the bane” of hogwarts’ students who wanted to go for a “dip in the lake”. it’s so dumb. first of all, it lives very deep in the lake, so even a small dip wouldn’t hurt. and secondly, it’s harmless. it…” he hesitated and a shy smile formed on his lips. you couldn't help but smile as well “it even allows students to feed it bread”

“really?” you asked in disbelief, turning your gaze to look at the drawing of a giant squid. donghyun’s low hum of confirmation made shivers ran down your spine.

“toast to be specific” he added and you felt a movement.

leehan stepped closer and you could feel his body almost pressing against yours, his breath softly fanning over your cheek. the hufflepuff leaned closer to read the information. right, of course.

“but you know, it must be because its magical. true giant squids, architeuthis i think, wouldn’t be able to stand our lake’s lack of salinity. and normally, it wouldn’t digest food” donghyun shrugged. you didn’t know what was happening to you - you couldn’t prevent your smile from growing. listening to him rambling about his niche sea creature interest really warmed your heart.

oh, this boy got you whipped.

“i think it’s a subspecies. like kneazles and mundane cats” leehan added, his finger tracing the black inked illustration of the squid’s tentacles.

your breath hitched. you wanted to reply, to throw a comment. but you realized you had no knowledge in this discipline, making you even more intrigued with donghyun.

“i really want to see it one day. maybe in summer. sometimes it plays with students, you know? lays out its tentacles out of the lake and just… lets the students mess with it” he tsked “hopefully…” 

“i’d like to see that” you giggled. you heard a faint gasp and glanced at him. his eyes snapped back at you, as if he just realized he’s been rambling. 

“i’ll take you with me, then. i planned on going at the end of the year, just before leaving for summer break” he shot you a soft smile, small crinkles forming around his eyes (and you swore your knees just went weak). 

“i’m in” you grinned and gently moved his finger out of the book. then, you closed it and stood on your tiptoes to put it on the higher shelf.

however, you couldn’t reach.

“let me help you” donghyun’s tender voice once again rang from behind you. 

soon enough, you felt his warm hand on your hip as he took the book from your hand and placed it for you. for a mere moment you could feel his chest pressing against your back, the smell of his cologne invading your senses like a swarm of butterflies whirling around you.

you didn't even realize when the hufflepuff boy was back in his position, putting back the rest of the books. and further on ramling about sea creatures.

“there was also a case of the giant squid helping a student that had fallen into the lake…”

sitting on a nearby bench, you were writing the ancient runes to form a sentence. actually, you were writing in your journal about today’s date with donghyun. his own notebook was laying next to you - he was afraid to get it wet. 

“ah, y/n, quick! a grindylow!” he yelped and you shot to your feet, dropping your journal onto the bench. with snow crunching underneath your feet, you sprinted towards the hufflepuff boy. he had his scarf and hat on, pink nose peeking from the layers. 

“how did it come here?” you asked curiously, quickly joining his side. 

leehan's  gloved hand grabbed yours and pointed at the quickly swimming creature. it was barely visible due to its dark color blending with the green shade of the lake but you could see its outline. 

“my bet is looking for food. they like fish. or maybe it was bored. or…” donghyun hesitated, looking over at you. you shifted your gaze at him, looking at his big brown eyes hidden behind his glasses. “or… it came here for its prey!”

donghyun suddenly wrapped his arms around you, lifting you off the ground and spinning around. you squealed, taken by a surprise. 

“they don’t eat humans!” you whined when he put you down.

“uh… sure…” he chuckled and reached to the pocket of his puffy jacket. he grabbed some dried algae and threw it into the water. you moved closer to him, suddenly scared. interlocking arms with his, you snuggled onto his side.

“it eats people?” you asked quietly as you saw the creature swimming closer to the food. its head poked out of the water surface, small, black, shiny eyes looking at you before taking a bite of the algae.

leehan snickered and grabbed your chin, eyes locking with you.

“only cuties like you” he grinned and moved his yellow and black scarf out of his face. then, he leaned closer and kissed you softly. even though his lips were cold, you felt warmth spreading through your body. you smiled into the kiss and pulled him even closer by the scarf. 

who would have thought that two days after the detention you’d gain the courage to ask him out. 

he pulled back slightly, first looking at your lips with a smirk and then back in your eyes.

“and humans. but only the grown grindylows and that one is still a baby” he grinned. and before you could even roll your eyes, he pulled your ravenclaw-colored hat down and covered half of your face. with a giggle, he pulled you closer.

masterlist <3

taglist. @slytherinshua ,, @weird-bookworm

[sunnyferr]

his worst nightmare

W: angst!!!

GNreader!

I've been a bit lost these past few months, and I'm feeling more down than usual, let me spread my anxiety to you all ;)

Trafalgar Law:

Law's worst nightmare is found in his own dreams. The heart-wrenching shot echoes in his mind almost every night; he wakes up abruptly, heart racing and drenched in sweat, trying to escape his bed and rush to wash his face for a dose of reality. But since you've been with him… the dream changed. He saw you in Doflamingo's hands, holding a gun, and he watched as the trigger was slowly squeezed. In his nightmare, he was shackled in seastone, unable to do anything about it, with his heart pounding like crazy, millions of memories flooding his mind.

All he could hear was the sound of the trigger.

Desperately, Law sits up and starts to lightly tap next to his bed to confirm you’re there. And there you were, sleeping peacefully, while his heart felt like it was about to jump out of his throat from the scare. However, to be sure you were okay, he placed a finger on your neck, feeling your calm, steady pulse. It felt like he came back to life when he felt your heartbeat; it was just another nightmare.

Roronoa Zoro:

Losing you is his worst nightmare (ironic, right?). But it’s not just losing you somewhere; losing you physically on some island is one of his greatest fears. When you guys got separated at Sabaody, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. For Zoro, the crew is everything he has and MUST protect, but if he can't protect you, who will he protect? More than once, he dreamt he lost you, seeing blood trailing from your body, tears welling in his eyes. He definitely couldn’t sleep in the afternoon after that nightmare.

Deep down, he knows you're strong, but how strong are you really? That’s something he often wonders when he closes his eyes. In other dreams, he’s running through a forest, looking for you, trying to follow blood-stained tracks. Did he run out of time? Did he arrive too late?

When he wakes up in the middle of the night, while everyone else is asleep, he quietly enters to see you lying there, watching your chest rise and fall with each breath.

Now he can sleep easy knowing you’re okay.

Portgas D. Ace:

His dreams are peculiar, really strange, but he dreams that by giving you a hug, he’s slowly burning you like a piece of paper. The tighter he holds, the more ashes fall at his feet, while small tears roll down his own cheeks. Is the intensity of his love hurting you? Or did he never know how to take care of the delicate piece of paper that you are? Guilt consumes him as he watches your ashes flutter in the strong wind.

He doesn’t sit up abruptly; he slowly opens his eyes, staring at the ceiling, trying to process what the hell he just dreamt about, his hands trembling slightly as he rakes them through his messy hair. He’s tousling his hair as if sorting out his jumbled thoughts.

He’ll talk about this with you in the morning; he doesn’t want to have doubts about how things are going. He just wants to express what he feels.

COMMISSIONS OPEN!

[eufezco]

FAMILY (old man logan x psychic reader)

this is based on that xmen97' in which jean goes to the hospital and they don't want to attend her labor. this can be extremely triggering to some of you since it includes miscarriages so be careful 🫶🏻 but i couldn't give it a sad ending so i kept writing 😭

this is sooo long and i could've kept going talking about old man logan being a dad so i might do a part two. english isn't my first language !!

—logan —. you called him. you used one of your hands to shook his body while your other one rested on your belly.

logan was sleeping peacefully by your side. he rubbed his eyes and frowned when, thanks to the light coming in from the street, he saw your cheeks wet from your tears.

—i can't hear her. i can't- i can't hear her, lo —. you repeated in a rush.

it took him a few seconds to understand what you were talking about but when he finally did, he was quick to get out of bed and turn on the light on his bedside table. he was immortal but his heart stopped beating for a moment when he saw the blood between your legs.

he found it hard to breathe as you both looked into each other's eyes.

he had never seen an expression of terror like the one you had on your face that night. he had a hard time reacting, his body did not respond, he wanted to think that he was inside one of his horrible nightmares. but the sound of your sobs at the sight of the blood, how you squeezed your legs together and your eyes closed shut from the pain of the cramps brought him back to reality.

logan ran to your side of the bed and took you in his arms. —it's okay, baby, it's okay. we're going to the hospital now, it's okay —. you heard him murmur as he kissed your forehead.

when you two left the room, laura was waiting at the door. she had her claws out, after hearing the cries she was already assuming the worst. her facial expression changed from anger to concern when she saw you in his arms, holding onto his neck and crying. she noticed your blood-stained pajama pants. laura hid her claws and followed logan out of the house and to the limousine.

he carefully placed you in the back seats and stopped the girl when she tried to get in the car with you. laura gave him an angry look.

—no, i need you here with charles.

laura grunted and tried to get in the car again. logan stopped her one more time.

—laura, please.

logan was practically begging. his eyes were glossy with tears, he tried to hide it but his hands were shaking. laura gave up after hearing the tone of desperation in which he asked her to stay. she stepped back so logan could get into the car, still frowning that he wouldn't let her go with you.

—wake up charles, tell him what happened and bring him home with you.

laura nodded. logan started the car and stepped on the gas and once you arrived at the hospital, he took you in his arms again. he carefully laid you down on the stretcher brought by the nurses, his grip lingering on your hand as long as possible. when he tried to go with you, they wouldn’t let him.

logan’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides, but he didn’t argue. he didn’t want to make a scene. despite the urge to fight his way through, to stay by your side, he held back. and he waited, his legs bouncing restlessly, eyes fixed on the doors, hoping someone would come out to give him news. but no one said anything. he waited for what felt like an eternity until, unable to bear it any longer, he stormed up to the front desk.

—where is she? —he growled, eyes dark with rage. the nurse glanced up, confused, looking at papers before finally letting out the truth: they had forgotten to tell him.

forgotten. you had been alone for hours and no one had bothered to let him know. his fists slammed down on the desk, the sound echoing through the quiet waiting room as his voice rose. —you forgot? she’s been in there alone, and you forgot?

they called for a doctor, fearing the situation was escalating. the doctor was cold, didn’t even bother to make eye contact, his gaze focused on the clipboard in his hands. —she had a miscarriage, we are sorry, sir —. the doctor said and continued talking but logan couldn't hear anything past those eight words. he closed his eyes, focusing on his own breathing, shallow as it was. one of his hands moved to his chest, his heart was racing.

all the anger turned into pain and he hated it. —but why? what happened? —. he didn't even know where he got the strength to ask.

—we are not sure, maybe it have been due to her mutation.

logan closed his eyes again and shook his head. sadness quickly turned into a stronger feeling, one that made his face burn and his fists clench tightly. —she's a psychic, what the fuck would that have to do with her pregnancy?

—sir.

—no one in this fucking hospital has ever cared about us.

—sir, i'm going to have to ask you to calm down. we treat all of our-

—always blaming our mutations instead of doing your fucking jobs.

and when he finally saw you, lying on the hospital bed, he ran and wrapped his arms around you. when he entered the room he noticed that you had been crying before, your eyes were red and your face was wet. —i'm so sorry, —he whispered, his voice breaking slightly as he held you. —i should have been here. god, i'm so sorry.

—i'm sorry, logan, i'm so sorry —you sobbed against his chest. his hands held your head closer to him, his fingers caressed your hair. you began to sob as soon as your head rested on his chest

—it's not your fault, baby. you did nothing —he mumbled. he planted a kiss on the top of your head as he struggled to not let the tears in his eyes slide down his cheeks. —it's not your fault, you hear me? i'm sorry this happened to you.

laura didn't quite know how to approach you.

she was not good with words and physical contact had never been her greatest strength either. she definitely took it after her father. she would stand in the doorway of your room watching you curled up on the bed. it seemed wrong to go in, you had a hard time sleeping and when you finally did, logan made sure that no one bothered you. but it felt even more wrong to just stand there once again without doing anything.

she walked carefully into the room and sat down on the bed. with even more care, she placed your head on her legs and played with your hair the same way logan did until you finally fell asleep. he peeked into the room when he saw the door open, she thought he would get angry but he simply closed the door and left you.

charles spent more time at home than in his hideout.

the morning after you came home from the hospital he moved with his wheelchair to your room. you were sitting on the edge of the bed, with your head down and a hand on your belly. it had not had time to grow much, you were still in the first trimester of pregnancy but you could already notice how it was beginning to swell and become hard.

charles placed a hand on your head and closed his eyes. he could feel the sorrow and guilt, the overwhelming sense of loss. the thoughts echoed in your mind and now also in his. was it something you did? something you didn’t do? there was shame, a feeling of failure that made it hard to look others in the eye, in logan's eyes, afraid he might see the same blame you saw in yourself. beneath it all was the quiet pain of loneliness, even if you weren’t truly alone, and the sense of helplessness that made everything feel out of control.

charles blanked your mind for a few seconds and you sighed in relief.

logan didn’t know how to talk about the loss.

his silence wasn't indifference, he had just never been one to talk about his feelings but it never crossed his mind to leave you alone for a second. only when he had to go to work and he spent the whole night driving and thinking about you. when he came home, he'd crawl into bed with you and hug you from behind. sometimes, when he was gone, laura would take his place and fall asleep next to you. you would end up squeezed between the two of them and in those moments, everything hurt a little less.

every now and then, you’d catch him staring at you, his eyes heavy with a mixture of pain and love, like he wished he could take it all away for you but knew he couldn’t.

you know he was grieving too, even if he never said it aloud, you could hear it in his thoughts. his grief wasn’t the kind that spilled out in tears or words, it stayed locked inside him. he’d work late into the night on something, fixing things that didn’t need fixing, pouring all his energy into tasks that kept his hands busy and his mind focused. and when he finally lay in bed next to you, his breath would hitch, just for a moment, when he thought you had fallen asleep.

you barely had the strength to use your powers, but you needed to know what was going through his mind. you knew that sometimes just being near him was enough. you’d rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the tension in his body slowly ease. his mind became quieter, more peaceful, when you were with him, as if your connection was the only thing that soothed him.

some weeks later, there was a knock on your door. you exchanged quick glances with logan and charles because visitors were rare since you lived in the middle of nowhere so whoever was on the other side couldn’t have come by accident. logan, with a defensive attitude, went to see who was at the door while you waited with charles. laura followed logan, her small figure staying close behind, and her hand gripping the fabric of his jeans.

—the wolverine —. the young woman at your door said in a sigh, surprised.

logan rolled his eyes and tried to shut the door after hearing that name. the girl pushed it with extreme force, making the wood creak and logan and laura had to take a step backwards. laura pulled out her claws while logan was shocked.

she was a mutant.

—oh, sorry. i didn't mean to, i still don't know how to control it.

—yeah? why don't you figure it out away from my fucking property? —he said through gritted teeth and tried to close the door again.

—wait! my mom is a doctor! she works with mutants!

logan was only getting angrier, how did she find where you lived? and what was she suggesting? because it sounded like you were all going to be locked up in a laboratory. he finally managed to shut the door.

—i'm not here to cause any trouble! she knew charles, she studied at oxford as well! i was at the hospital the night you lost the baby! —the girl said from outside the house as silence fell inside of it.

logan opened the door again, angrily, but before he could do or say anything, charles called his name and rolled the wheelchair to the door, his calm presence cutting through the intensity of the moment. the girl's surprise at seeing charles xavier himself alive was even stronger than when she was greeted by the wolverine. —professor xavier... you're alive.

charles smiled faintly and nodded. —now, why don’t you come inside and explain yourself? It seems you’ve come quite a long way.

logan’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t stop charles. he still didn’t trust the girl, not for a second, but he trusted charles. his eyes flicked to you, not really sure what was going on. laura sat next to you when the young woman entered your house, her eyes never leaving the stranger as she approached to say hello. her small body shifted subtly, leaning forward just enough to shield you.

—start talking, —logan growled —how did you find us, and what the hell do you want?

—i didn't come to harm you or your family —. she said quickly. —my name is amy. i'm named after my mom, dr. amy, she's been working with mutants for years, helping them. she met charles at oxford.

charles slowly nodded. —i remember amy. she was brilliant. she was studying medicine by the time i was finishing my phd in genetics. she had this mutation in her eyes...

amy nodded. —heterochromia, yes, that’s her —. her gaze shifted to you. —i was at the hospital that night, i'm doing my residency there, i'm sorry for the way you were both treated. —she continued, her voice softening with sympathy. —i didn’t mean to intrude, but i’ve been following your situation closely ever since. i… i’m sorry for your loss.

you slowly nodded. you sensed that she had no bad intentions, you had seen it inside her head.

—i looked at your papers and no one in that hospital was following your pregnancy. there were no record of your ultrasound scans, no scheduled checkups. they haven’t even called you for the routine appointments.

the room fell silent, her words hanging in the air like a heavy weight. logan’s reaction was instant. his fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening with anger. the realization hit you hard—they had practically left your baby to die, neglecting something so vital, so basic. you wanted to cry. your hand instinctively moved to your belly. the tears threatened to spill, but you held them back.

—what does your mother have to do with us? —logan asked.

—my mom can help you, in case you want to try for a baby again.

you had never really thought about it, the pain of losing the first was still too fresh. logan had never pushed the idea, either. but with this stranger standing in your home, offering hope, you felt something stir inside you. it wasn’t exactly the desire to try again, but more like a door had been cracked open, just enough for the possibility to slip through.

—she has a clinic in the city, —the girl continued, sensing the tension in Logan but not backing down. —she’s helped many mutants who’ve been denied care in hospitals. she has dedicated her life to helping us, not just our symptoms but understanding our struggles. she truly cares.

—why would we trust her? how can we know that she’s any different from the rest? —you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

—because i’m here, —the girl insisted, her voice steady. —i wouldn’t put myself in danger if i didn’t believe in what she does. i’ve seen her work with people who’ve been told they’re not worth the effort. she doesn’t treat us like lab rats; she treats us like people.

after countless conversations with logan and making sure that he was truly ready too, you both finally decided to go to see dr. amy.

the doctor who greeted you was a kind-looking elderly woman with a gentle smile that immediately put you at ease. her eyes, one blue and one green, radiated understanding. you didn’t need to tell her your story—her daughter had already filled her in so you wouldn’t have to relive the pain.

you went to see her several times, although most of them it was you who did the talking as Logan sat beside you, listening intently. he was always there, his presence solid, even if his words were few. after several visits and tests, after long talks and careful consideration, you both finally decided that you were ready to try again.

you stepped out of the bathroom, the pregnancy test gripped tightly in your hand, your heart racing as if it might burst from your chest. he'd been pacing, hands running over his face. the second he heard the door open, he stopped in his tracks, turning to face you. his eyes immediately locked onto yours, desperate for any sign the test result.

—it's positive —. you spoke in a soft, quiet voice.

logan froze, his eyes widened slightly at your words. he stared at you, then at the test, and back to your face again. —you’re… you’re pregnant?

you nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. —yeah, it’s positive.

as soon as he hugged you, the tears started to fall. you couldn’t hold them back any longer—fear, relief, and everything in between overwhelmed you. you buried your face in his chest, your body shaking with quiet sobs. —i’m so scared —. you whispered against him, your voice trembling.

—i know, baby, i'm scared too. but it'll work —. logan held you tighter and kissed the top of your head. you felt how as his hands shook as he gently stroke your back.

logan made it a priority to talk with the doctor at every appointment, asking questions, wanting to know exactly what you needed and how he could help. and he made the pregnancy feel easier in ways you hadn’t expected, he remembered every mental notes he had taken from the doctor.

he’d help you with things like showering when it became difficult to balance or reach certain places. his touch was always gentle, his movements careful, making sure you felt safe and supported. and every night he'd gently rub lotion on your growing belly and give you foot massages, his strong calloused hands rubbing away the soreness from carrying extra weight. you’d close your eyes, sighing in relief, and he’d smile quietly. and when your clothes stopped fitting, it was him who offered up his own. he’d hand over his t-shirts and flannels, which hung loose on you and smelled like him.

laura was too scared to get close to you, her eyes wide with worry every time she saw your growing belly, as if you were too fragile to touch. but as the weeks passed, laura’s curiosity got the better of her, she hesitated before slowly approaching. she looked at your belly, then up to you for permission. when you gave her a soft smile and nodded, she knelt beside you.

she only placed her hand gently on your belly, her touch feather-light, almost afraid to make any real contact. then, she rested her head softly against your bump, her ear pressed close, hoping to hear her future sister. you watched as her face softened. she kept her hand on your belly, waiting, and after a few minutes, the baby gave a small kick. laura’s eyes lit up, her lips curving into a rare, genuine smile.

—she kicked —. she whispered, glancing up at you, as if asking if she was allowed to be excited.

the labor was easier than you had feared, but the pain still came in waves, intense and overwhelming. logan never left your side. he held your hand tightly through every contraction and encouraged you to push. and once your newborn daughter was placed on your chest, logan leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead as he told you how well you did.

not long after, the door to the room opened and there was laura. she gently approached, her gaze fixed on her new sister. logan stepped aside slightly, letting laura get closer. she stood next to the bed, staring in wonder, and then carefully, she reached out to touch the baby’s tiny hand.

logan was meant to be girl's dad.

[dilatorywriting]

59 Leona, it'd take a lot for him to admit but he would say it eventually. (Also I know you'd recognize me but I'm shy, so anon it is)

Gender Neutral Reader x Leona Kingscholar Word Count: 1.5k

Prompt 59: "People like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you, I think fate was being harsh on you."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

You are nice, and you are stupid. And those things aren’t mutually exclusive.

Sometimes you’re nice because you’re stupid, and sometimes you do stupid things because you’re too nice for your own stupid, stupid good. And it drives Leona half insane.

Which it shouldn’t, because nice, stupid people like you are just as annoying as his brother. Goody-two-shoes with buttoned vests and sparkly, star-shaped stickers on their term papers.

“Did you remember your homework?”

Leona flicked his tail in your face and you scrunched your nose over your notebook.

“Well?”

“Of course I remembered,” he scoffed, lazing back against the roots of one of his favorite trees. This spot used to be so much quieter, so much more peaceful, before you decided to trail after him like a duck quacking for its mother.

“Did you do the homework?” you clarified, and Leona rolled his eyes.

You sighed and starting ruffling around in your bookbag. “I brought a spare copy of the worksheet. You’re going to drive Ruggie insane, y’know. If he winds up stuck with you for another year because you failed for not turning in assignments.”

“Yeah. Sure. Another three-hundred-and-sixty-five days to rifle through my wallet. Worst news of his life.”

You huffed good naturedly and handed him the sheet of crisp, white copy paper and a pen. “Get to work, Kingscholar.”

“Oh?” he drawled, closing his eyes and settling back, loose limbed and all long, lean leisure, against the tree trunk. Clearly ready for an afternoon snooze. “Make me.”

You sighed again and reached over to flick your own well-used pen against his ear. It twitched under your fingers—soft, and tufted. The finest of the pale, tan fur brushing up against your fingertips. “Fine. Be that way. See if I bring you lunch tomorrow.”

“You will,” he scoffed.

“Yeah,” you sighed, sounding resigned and foolishly fond. “I probably will.”

See? Stupid. So easy to manipulate. So willing to let yourself be squashed under his clawed thumb. It was a wonder you’d managed to survive in this school at all. Nevertheless by clinging onto the coattails of someone like him. He’d never made anyone’s existence easier a day in his life, and he certainly wasn’t going to start now, just because you were too soft-hearted and slow to see a looming predator for what it was.

“Just give me that stupid fucking paper,” he snapped, sitting upright and swatting away your poking pen with a sneer. You laughed into your palms like a secret—bright, and merry, and dumb as a fucking rock.

“Whatever you say, Leona.”

.

.

You’d handled his Overblot with a strange sort of aplomb that at first Leona had attributed to perhaps a lingering, hidden confidence that he’d just never bothered to unearth. You were just some herbivore, and even the littlest rabbits could bite back when you put them in a corner. But then he’d come to the decision that that easy conviction was just another symptom of your rampant stupidity.

“I know you guys don’t want to hurt me, or any of us. Not really,” you shrugged around a wad of cotton—the blood dripping from your nose slowly drying up to a tacky, sticky dribble. Leona gaped at you outright.

That was your grand explanation. For why you’d been so eager to charge forward when he’d collapsed in a pool of inky nightmares and self-loathing. And the very same reason apparently thatyou’d felt so comfortable rushing forward to treat Azul Ashengrotto’s blubbering, hysterical, breakdown with the same urgency.

“That octo-prick would have ripped you in half,” he sneered, fingers twitching a nervous rhythm against his palms as he watched the nurse wrap another layer or bandages around your head.

You shrugged. “Not on purpose.”

You were going to give him an aneurism.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he snarled, ignoring the horrible, twisty thing curling like bile through his chest. “And I’m not going to bother paying for some self-sacrificing idiot’s funeral.”

Another shrug.

“That’s alright,” you hummed, a soft sort of crooked smile on your mouth. “Would’ve been a waste of money anyways.”

Leona didn’t talk to you for a week after that. Surely because your stupidity had reached such a fever pitch that it was no doubt contagious, and he needed to protect his far superior and more valuable brain. Not because the image of you smiling and nodding along to his declarations that he wouldn’t put the effort into mourning your death had soured something so deep in his gut that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to scrape it out.

.

.

When he received a letter from home asking him to return for some shitty coronation nonsense for his equally shitty brother, Leona had debated just skipping it outright. Who was going to stop him? You?

Well. Yes, apparently.

“It sounds important,” you hummed, peering over his shoulder at the neat, formal scrawl of the summons. “You should go.”

He snorted. “I don’t want to be there, they don’t want me to be there. What’s the point.”

You frowned, brow crinkling in the middle.

“Well, that’s not true,” you said, perplexed. “They wouldn’t write to you if that was the case.”

Leona snorted, eyes darting away to glare bitterly off into the corner. “Not like they have a choice.”

“Well then you don’t have a choice either,” you argued, firm. “I’ll go with you. See? It says you can have a plus one. You can camp out in your fancy, princey, bedroom. And I can siphon you snacks from the fancy, princey hors d'oeuvres tables. That way we both win. You get to be a reclusive asshole and rub the fact that that you still went in everyone’s faces, and I can get access to some tasty, royal food that I’ll probably never be able to afford again for the rest of my life.”

“Should’ve known you’d be like Ruggie—only using me for the free food,” he sighed, melodramatic and obviously put on.

“Well, also because I thought you could use the emotional support,” you added, a touch too soft and far too genuine. “But I didn’t think you wanted to hear that bit.”

“You’re right,” he scoffed, turning onto his side to hide the strange, miserable heat pricking at his skin. “Don’t ever say corny shit like that again.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you grinned, flicking at his ear, and Leona added another mental tab to his never-ending list of reasons that you were really far too brainless to keep functioning at all.

.

.

You were nice, and you were stupid. And Seven, he wanted to be anywhere but here.

“My brother hasn’t ever brought someone to one of these events before,” Falena had said, to your face. Idiot to idiot communication.  

“I didn’t give him much of an option,” you’d chirped, perfectly pleasant. “I don’t think he wants me anywhere near here, to be fair. Or around him in general. But I’m like a cockroach. Can’t get rid of me.”

And Falena had laughed. Because he was terrible. And said, “I’m sure he must care about you very much, little cockroach.”

And then because you were more terrible, you laughed back and said very assuredly, “Oh, not at all.”

Which was—was—

“Do you really think that?” he snapped, once the two of you were alone. And you blinked back at him with wide, owlish eyes.

“Think what?”

Think at all,he wanted to sneer, but just glared silently and bitterly into the middle distance���fighting the nonsensical, irritated swishing of his tail.

But you just kept staring at him. Like he was the moron here. Which was unacceptable.

“Look,” he frowned, sharp and miserable. “I get it. People like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you. Whatever gods exist out there were playing a shitty fucking joke on you when they dropped you in my lap. But you’re stuck with me. So stop—” he bit out, fighting that awful, twisty thing in his gut that never seemed to fully go away. “Stop talking like I can’t stand you.”

“…oh,” you mumbled, whisper quiet—that wide, startled gaze flicking away in embarrassment. “Oh.”

“Oh,” he echoed, sharp, and you snorted a laugh that seemed to surprise even you.

“You’re stuck with me too then, y’know,” you said after a long moment. “Even when I make you grumpy.”

“You don’t make me grumpy. I am grumpy. You make me—” he cut off quick, eyes darting away petulantly and an absolutely unfair heat rising along his cheekbones.  

“Itchy,” you piped in, and he gaped at you in shock.

“What?”

“You know,” you shrugged, awkward, and reached up to wiggle your fingers. “Cockroach. Many legs. Squirming. Itchy.”

“Never say any of those words again.”

You laughed into your palm—inelegant and a touch too loud. Leona felt his lips quirk.

“Thank you,” you said after a moment, once your giggles were a bit more under control. And leaned forward quick as a whip to press a nervous peck against his cheek. “For being kind to me.”

Kind.

Leona reached up to press a hand against the too-warm skin with a terrible, unfamiliar sensation in his head not unlike the fuzzy, white drone of TV static. And a horrible thought managed to filter its way through the floating, buzzing sensation curling through the whole of him.

Oh, fuck. It is contagious.

.

.

[jenn-ieverse]

୨ৎ. 🎧 𝇃𝄄ㅤ ઈㅤֵㅤN I K I ‹ ENHYPEN › ๋ ࣭ ⭑

AFTER HOURS

PAIRING ࿐࿔ badboy¡niki + femalereader

TROUPE ࿐࿔ badboy X class president

WARNINGS ࿐࿔ to be added

LIST ࿐࿔ PROLOGUE

A/N ࿐࿔ excited to share this with y'all !!

AFTER HOURS

“Yeah I know but—” you feel Niki nudging your feet with his, trying to distract you from your phone call. You pull the mobile away from your ear and cover the speaker with your other hand before speaking, “Just hold on a minute will you?” you glare at him hoping he would stop. “Cut the call would ya? I'm bored, come on.” a playful smirk linger on his lips as he leans in, towering over your height.

Let's go back a few hours to see how you ended up in this position.

When the homeroom teacher called to see you at lunch, you didn't think much of it. As a class president, you are ought to run a bunch of errands for the teacher so it's no surprise that you pay a visit to the staff room once every day like it's some holy temple. However today was different, you could sense it in the atmosphere the moment you stepped in through the sliding door, the uncomfortable tension.

“Sir, you asked to see me?” Mr. Choi, the homeroom teacher notices your presence and nods, “Y/N, yeah, right. Come on in.” a disturbed sigh leaves his mouth as he massages his forehead. “Is Niki present today?” and instantly you knew, today is going to be one of those days. The kind you always dreaded. “Uh— some students saw him on campus but he hasn't been in class since the morning.” you mention.

“This punk, I swear he his upto no good.” and cue a string of disappointing words targeted towards Niki Nishimura, born to a Japanese tycoon, is currently busy being a menace to the society here is Korea, here in Haelsam High School to be more precise. “Only if his father didn't have connections in the education board, I would have him thrown out!” Overtime you have developed selective hearing, you refuse to pay heed to anything that's related to a certain troublemaker.

“He needs to be taught a lesson, kids these days—” you apologetically cut the teacher's never-ending string of words, “Is there anything I can help you with?” as those words leave your mouth, you wait for him to say ‘no’ and dismiss you begrudgingly for interrupting him, not to mention the dontaksu on the lunch menu was calling your name, you could feel it in your stomach.

The moment he said ‘yes’‚ it was like sorcery, the appetite was gone. “Find Niki and have him fill out his career counseling form. I need it on my desk by tomorrow morning.” The career counseling was a mandatory process for all 12th grade students. After they fill the form, they are to have an one on one session with Mr. Choi (nightmare come true) and the homeroom teacher suggests them the universities they should aim for based on the career they want to pursue (basically another day, another way for Mr. Choi to tell you how absolutely worthless you are and if you keep these poor excuse of grades up, you'll never get into any college, forget about the good ones.)

“But sir, does he really need any? I doubt he's going to have a career set in the first place.” you know that you sound absolutely mean right now but it's something about him that brings out your worst side. “Do you think I want to sit here and even look at his face? let alone have a session? This is mandatory and the principal wants the forms by the end of this week.” Mr. Choi speaks as he shuffles through his stack of papers and finally pulls out an empty form.

“But sir, I apologize but I really don't want to be involved with him.” as you are saying those words, a cold shudder courses through your body, even imagining your past interactions with Niki. “Kang Areum want me to conduct a reelection for the place of class president.” Mr. Choi says suggestively, “Now, I am not sure about what to tell her.” he implies, fuck! “I'll do it!” you say out loud, catching the judging looks of the other teachers present in the room.

As you walk towards the secluded area behind the school building, a sense of uneasiness settles at the bottom of your stomach. A group of students smoking and laughing among themselves, suddenly go quiet. “Yo, ain't that the class pres.?” one of them says pointing the tip of his lit cigarette at you. “Have you guys seen Niki?” you try your best to maintain the firmness in your tone even though you feeling like the school outcast who is about to be bullied by the delinquents any minute now.

“Niki's got a girl? That too the class president?” another one says, blowing a drag of smoke right on your face. “Well that means she is one of us now.” the guy who was pointing the cigarette now walks up to you and puts his arm around your shoulder, pulling you towards the group of boys. “Okay, first of all, get your hands off me.” you jerk away his heavy arm from your shoulders. “Tell me where is Niki?” you ask again, this time with more authority, also where the hell is this boy?

“Thinking of me?” a voice whispers in your ear making you flinch, there he was. Hands pushed inside the pocket of his pants, chains dangling around his neck, toothpick pressed between his lips, bleeding forehead, wait- bleeding forehead? "Your forehead-" he doesn't let you complete. "Let's get out of here, come on." he picks up your bag from the ground and swings it around his shoulder.

“You can walk along with me, ya know?” you mention as you see Niki following you from few feet behind. “I'd much rather be behind you.” you could feel the smirk on his face without having to look back. As soon as you spot a convenience store you quickly rush inside to get couple of band-aids. By the time you come out, Niki was seated at one of the plastic chairs kept adjacent to the store.

“Here.” you slide the band-aids to him from across the plastic table while taking a seat on one of the other chairs. “So why were you looking for me? I am sure it isn't to buy me band-aids.” he struggles to put the band-aid over the cut as you hold up the selfie camera of his phone in front of his face, acting as a mirror. “Yeah well, there's something I need from you.” you think of how to bring up the situation.

“Like what?” he leans back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “I need you to fill your career counseling form.” you wait for him to dismiss you without any regards, like he always does. But today for some reason, nothing was going as per your predictions because what Niki says next, isn't something you could've ever predicted. “What do I get in return?”

── END OF PROLOGUE

[reiding-writing]

may i request getting stuck in an elevator with early season Spence after hours at the BAU and the lights go out and obviously him being terrified of the dark he starts panicking and reader has to comfort him until he eventually explains his fear of the dark in relation to something happening in his childhood. just some angst and hurt/comfort ig? I live and breathe your content <3

malfunction [ s.r ]

Summary:

You and Spencer end up staying late to finish some paperwork after a case, when you finally vacate into the elevator to leave it breaks down, revealing some secrets harboured by both of you and strengthening your relationship in the process.

WARNINGS: claustrophobia, nyctophobia, arachnophobia, mentions of spencer’s bullying

pairing: s1!spencer x gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

wc: 3.2k

masterlist!!

a/n: glad i’ve curated an audience of angst and hurt/comfort enjoyers <33

It was late.

12:06AM to be exact.

Silence riddled the bullpen, making the usually bustling office stand completely still.

You might’ve found it a little disturbing if not for Spencer sat a few desks down from you, his mere presence stopping your mind from running rampant with irrational fears of ghosts or demons that might lurk in the dark corners of the room.

It was a little stupid sure, your lanky book-genius of a coworker held no chance of being able to physically protect you from whatever your brain could conjure up, but the mind works in wonderous ways, and he offered you an unintentional blanket of security nonetheless.

You could hear the loose papers of his files rustle as he closed the manilla folder, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses with a sigh.

Looks like Spencer was done for the night. And by that logic, so were you.

You mirror Spencer as you shut your file, packing it away in your messenger bag and tucking your chair under your desk as you stand, the two of you silently acknowledging each other’s presence as you reach the elevator.

You could practically feel the fatigue surrounding the both of you as you stepped inside, your tiredness bouncing off each other and making you more desperate to crawl into bed and knock out for the night.

It didn’t last for very long.

A loud clunking sound echoed through the metal walls of the elevator, followed by it jolting to a stop, and you had to grip onto the metal bar lining the wall so you didn’t lose your balance.

Your eyes turn first to the small screen above the door, flickering between the numbers 2 and 3 as if it can’t decide what floor you’re currently on.

Then they turn to Spencer.

Spencer's breathing is uneven and his body tense, eyes darting around the tiny enclosed space with a distinct air of panic.

“Reid? Are you alright?” You raise an eyebrow at him, your expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

"N-No, no! I am not alright! This is my worst nightmare come to life." Spencer presses himself against the far wall, as if plastering himself to it will make him part of the elevator and therefore unable to be injured if something goes wrong.

“You do know how unlikely it is to actually get any sort of injury from an elevator accident right?”

"One out of ten point five million. I know that. But this isn't about logic this is about fear." He turns away as he speaks, taking a few breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. "I'm-I'm claustrophobic. And this is not helping."

“Okay- okay- let’s just calm down for a second,” You hold up a hand in Spencer’s direction. You never took him as somebody to have irrational fears like this. You always figured that he’d just use his knowledge to rationalise what was happening and move on. Apparently not.

Spencer looks back at you and nods, taking in another deep breath.

“I'm trying. It's just-“ The elevator makes a rumbling sound that elicits what you can only classify as a whimper to leave his throat. “I can't do this. I can't be stuck in this tiny space for an unknown amount of time. I can't. I just can't. Please. Please, someone. Someone has to know we're in here. They have to.”

“Reid- Calm down.”

You let go of the bar you were holding onto to walk over to Spencer, placing your hands cautiously on his shoulders.

"I-I'm trying. I'm trying."

But he doesn't actually seem to be any better than he was before. His body is shaking, his breaths shaking and uneven.

He's getting very close to having a full blown panic attack.

“Sit down,” You push gently against his shoulders to encourage him to sit, following after him yourself to sit in front of him with your legs crossed underneath you.

Spencer lets out a trembling breath. "What if we die in here? What if no one comes? What if something goes wrong?"

“We’re going to be fine,”

You hold out a hand palm up in your lap as open invitation for him to take it if he needs to.“just take slow breaths Reid,”

"I-I'm trying." He looks down at your hand and almost reaches out for you, but hesitates before yanking his hand back.

He looks away and forces his breath to slow down again. "What if we're in here for hours?"

“Elevators have failsafes Reid, it’ll sort itself out don’t worry,”

Spencer takes a shuddered breath in through his nose, closing his eyes as he repeats your words in his head.

It’ll sort itself out. He doesn’t need to worry.

He meets your eyes with a small nod and you sigh, giving him a sympathetic smile that reassures him he’s going to be fine.

Unfortunately, all of your efforts to calm him down are quickly reversed as the lights cut out, sending the elevator into complete darkness.

His sudden blindness brings a startled cry from Spencer, his body instinctively trying to protect himself and in that split second of shock he grabs your hand.

He clutches at it tightly, eyes squeezed shut.

“Everything’s fine-“ You return his startled grip with a light squeeze of your own.

The grip around your hand feels firm and shaky but the contact helps to ground him, bringing some of his panic down a notch or two.

“It's not f-fine. It's dark. I don’t like the dark . I hate it.”

“You’re scared of the dark?” You sound more surprised than you mean to, and although you can’t pinpoint all of his features in the shadows, you’re sure you can see his eyebrows knit together.

“11% of the US adult population is afraid of the dark.” His tone carries an air of defensiveness through his fear, although he doesn’t seem offended enough at your comment to sacrifice the physical comfort that your hand is offering in his.

“Oh- no- I didn’t mean it as a bad thing-“ You shake your head despite the fact that he can’t see you, tightening your hold on his hand as an offer of reassurance. “I just- didn’t see you as somebody to have a fear of the dark is all-“

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You can hear the slight waver in his voice as he speaks, clearly trying to distract himself in your questions so he doesn’t have to think about his current situation.

You’d also wager he has his eyes shut, as ironic as it is.

“I just meant- you know- your brain rationalises everything so quickly that I figured you just wouldn’t have fears like this?”

He chuckles nervously, the sound echoing in the darkness. "Well, even the most rational minds have their quirks, I suppose. Fear doesn't always follow logic." The tension in his voice begins to ease, and he opens up a bit more.

“Is there a reason you have a fear of the dark?” You could understand his claustrophobia to a certain level, but nyctophobia wasn’t something very common in adults, especially ones who work as field agents for the FBI.

“I uh- it was just something that happened when I was younger, it’s stupid really-” Spencer skirts your question with a half-truth, not divulging any details of his seemingly irrational fear of the dark.

He shifts slightly, adjusting to find a more comfortable position on the floor, his hand tugging yours and in the process forcing you to change your seating position as well.

You squeeze his hand gently. "Do you wanna talk about it? People usually find it easier to rationalise their fears if they voice them to another person,” You use Spencer’s own intelligence against him in the hope that it’ll get him to open up.

As much as you had learned about him in the past two years, you still knew surprisingly little about Dr. Spencer Reid and his life outside of the office.

You knew all about his academics, how he liked his coffee with as much sugar as humanely possible, how under normal circumstances he would rather lick a toilet seat than shake someone’s hand.

But you didn’t really know him; And you figured this might be a good place to start.

“I… It’s not something I like to dwell on,” He tries to shut down your questioning once more, clearing his throat to try and rid of the lump that forms when he thinks back to the origins of his fears. “It’s not exactly a nice thing to remember,”

“I get that, some of my childhood memories aren’t the best either,” You let out a breath that could almost constitute as a laugh of exasperation. “But it might help, and i’m sure that just getting it off your chest will give you piece of mind nonetheless,”

You can hear Spencer take in a breath through his nose, and through the small adaptation your eyes had made to the darkness you could just barely see his lips purse into a line, debating whether or not to divulge his childhood to you.

It’s not like he didn’t trust you with it. Quite the opposite. He’d come to enjoy your presence over the time you’d spent working together.

You didn’t judge his intelligence, nor did you reduce him to it. You just saw him as another person and it was something that he was incredibly grateful for.

He knew you wouldn’t make fun of him if he told you, but he wasn’t worried about that. He was worried that you’d pity him.

That you’d treat him like some fragile object that would break if you spoke too loudly in its presence.

That’s something that he’d never want.

“I- don’t want you to think of me differently…” His voice was still laced with fear as he spoke, but this time it wasn’t a fear of the dark metal box he was trapped in; It was a fear of how your view of him would change.

“Reid…”

“I don’t want to be pitied or have people walk on eggshells for the sake of hurting my feelings…” You can practically feel his apprehension through the way his hand tenses in yours.

“Reid-“

“I’ve just managed to get people to treat me normally and I don’t want all of that to go down the drain-“

“Spencer.”

You can see his eyes snap upwards towards yours as you raise your voice, and you pull his left hand into your own to hold both of them in your lap, eyes chasing his in the darkness to maintain eye contact. “You’re human. Humans have fears and they have bad memories, and it’s not going to change anything about how I treat you.”

“Tell you what,” You give his hands a squeeze, leaning forwards slightly towards him to try and get a better look at his face. “I’ll tell you one of my childhood tragedies if you tell me yours, deal?”

He goes silent as he ponders your offer, ending with a small nod that you can only half see. “Okay…”

“Okay,” You return his nod with your own, running your thumbs over the backs of his hands. “So, i’ll go first,”

“When I was eight, my cousin thought it’d be a good idea to let his pet tarantula crawl all over my face whilst I was sleeping, and I woke up with it half in my mouth,” You practically shudder at the memory. “Needless to say I developed arachnophobia after that,”

You laugh breathily, shaking your head slightly. “It was not very fun,”

“Why would he do that?”

You shrug slightly, arms moving enough that he can feel it where your fingers connect. “He was a bit of a bully if i’m honest, but he’s matured since then thank god,”

“Are you- still afraid of spiders?” Spencer’s eyes practically shine in the darkness, big, round and glistening with curiosity as they scan your face from beneath his glasses.

“Promise not to make fun of me?” Your question is answer enough, but he still nods softly nonetheless. “I think they’re terrifying,”

“Almost 20% of the US population has arachnophobia, it’s a very common fear to have,”

“So is a fear of the dark,” You bring the conversation back to Spencer’s fear once more. “Willing to tell me its origin story yet?”

Spencer sighs, his shoulders slumping and his head leaning back against the wall of the elevator. “It’s-“ He exhales through his nose, his eyes diverting from yours to stare at your interconnected hands.

“When I was in school I was bullied a lot…” He purses his lips and you nod. As sad as it is you’re not exactly surprised.

Someone as insanely intelligent as him was unfortunately bound to be tormented by those who were academically inferior to him, it’s a by-product of jealousy.

“They uh… stripped me down and tied me to a goal post, and- then they just left me there-“ Spencer’s throat catches as he speaks, and you can see through the way his eyes flicker around that he’s replaying the memory in his head.

“I- managed to untie myself after a while, but I spent over an hour searching for all of my clothes and ended up walking home in the dark half dressed…” Spencer’s lip quivers as he reaches the end of his explanation.

“I don’t think i’ve ever been more scared in my life…”

“I’m so sorry they did that to you…” Your eyebrows furrow with sympathy, and you shift your hold on his hands to intertwine your fingers with his. “Nobody should have to experience that…”

Spencer exhales, and you can hear the shake in his breath. “I thought if I just buried it that i’d forget, but I still remember it like it happened yesterday…”

The curse of an eidetic memory you suppose. Destined to remember every detail of the worst experiences you’d ever had.

Although you’re sure that Spencer wouldn’t need an eidetic memory to have what happened to him burned into his brain.

“Spencer…”

“I’m sorry-“ Spencer shakes his head, attempting to pull his hands out of yours. “I told you it was stupid-“

“Hey. No.” You close your hands around his to stop him from pulling away. “That is in no way stupid at all.”

“You went through something awful and developed a fear because of it. That is the furthest thing from stupid Reid,”

“I just-”

You cut off Spencer’s attempt at a rebuttal with a pull of your hands in his, separating them only to wrap your arms around him in a hug. “No excuses.”

Spencer is stiff in your embrace, unsure of what exactly he should be doing. Should he hug you back? Should he pull away to regain his personal space?

He wasn’t exactly sure. He did however, feel like he was going to cry.

He could feel the tears welling up behind his eyelids, squeezing his eyes shut to stop them from falling down his face and hiding his face against the curve of your shoulder so that you wouldn’t be able to see the shadow of his expression.

God he was pathetic.

Sat in his coworkers embrace because he was scared of the goddamn dark.

On the verge of tears because of something that happened twelve years ago.

A twenty four year old man. A fully grown adult.

His shoulders begin to tremble as he thinks about it, and you can feel the way his breath catches in his throat as you bring your hand to the back of his head to hold him closer to you.

“This is pathetic i’m sorry…” He shakes his head against your shoulder, hindered slightly by the way his glasses sit on the bridge of his nose.

“Shhh,” You shake your head in tandem with his, leaning your cheek against the side of his head as you rub your hand over his back. “Don’t be silly,”

"You're not pathetic, Spencer," You reassure him, your voice gentle. "Everyone has their own fears and struggles. It takes strength to open up about them."

He takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to compose himself. "I just never thought I'd be so affected by it for this long."

"Trauma doesn't have a set expiration date," you say softly. "It's okay to still be working through things. And you don't have to face it alone."

Spencer finally relaxes a bit in your embrace, allowing himself to accept the comfort you're offering. "Thank you," he mumbles, his voice barely audible against the fabric of your shirt.

“No problem-“ You don’t finish your sentence before the lights come back on, causing you to squint from the sudden brightness.

The sudden light flooding the elevator exposes the position the two of you had found yourself in, your legs tangled together as Spencer sits in your embrace with your arms around his torso and his hands resting limply by your waist.

“See?” You pull his face away from your shoulder gently, leaning back to finally get a fully clear view of his face. “Nothing to worry about,”

“Yeah…” He nods softly, eyes still a little red from holding back his tears, and he sniffles as he pulls away from you properly when the elevator starts moving downwards again.

“Do you want a ride home?” Your invitation is obvious as you two of you pick yourselves up from the floor, your eyes silently encouraging him to accept your proposal.

“I-“ The elevator came to another halt, this time thankfully opening its doors on the ground for the two of you to leave.

He had his train ticket in his pocket, but he was willing to forget it for now.

“That would be great, thank you…”

“No problem Spencer, let’s get outta here,”

He tries to brush aside the way he feels when you call him by his first name, nodding softly with pursed lips.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here…”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You: Worst Nightmare

Summary: Jensen's worst nightmare is about to come true...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 1,600ish

Warnings: language, heavy mentions of injury/blood/car accident

A/N: The agnst is strong...

________

Shouting woke you up. Very loud, very upset shouting. You blinked, slowly turning your head and finding the world was upside down. There was something to your left, something bent and the smell of metal and blood in the air made your nose twinge.

Then you remembered you were in the car. Driving on the highway to the brewery to grab some pizza and a few beers to bring home for dinner. You turned and touched the metal panel, the front of the car or part of the roof was your guess, now smack dab in the center console and cutting you off from the other side.

“Jay,” you croaked out. The shouting stopped and you squeezed your eyes shut. “Jensen. I’m okay.”

“Y/N,” he said as you remembered him shoving a hand in front of your chest. 

“Please tell me you’re in one piece,” you whispered.

“Yeah, I-I think so. Y-You?”

“I think so too,” you said, putting a hand on the roof below you, the windshield caved in, passenger door looking like a crumbled piece of paper. “Jay, I’m stuck in here.”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I think it’s just bumps and bruises,” you said. “Can you move?”

“No,” he said quietly, not saying another word.

“Are you hurt?” He didn’t respond and you hit the panel between you. “Hey! Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay.”

“Dammit, tell me the truth.”

“My arm is cut up some but I’m okay. I can’t…fuck I can’t get out either.” He slapped the metal piece between you and you shushed him. “Y/N-“

“Relax honey. Sh, relax. I’m right here. I’m gonna be okay and you’re gonna…be okay…it’s going to be just fine. Just…just do your breathing that Ray showed you when you get anxious okay? It’ll…be okay,” you said, pressing your hand against your bleeding leg. “Shit.”

“You sound hurt,” he breathed out. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m uh, bleeding from my thigh. It’s not gushing so it couldn’t have been anything too bad, right?” you tried to joke, Jensen slamming against the panel again. “It’s not that deep. Also I’m pretty sure I have pizza in my hair.”

“What?” 

“Yeah. I hope you like the smell of marinara cause that’s gonna take forever to wash out,” you said, trying to leverage yourself against the roof of the car. “Now’s as good a time as any to tell you this.”

“Tell me what?” he asked quietly. “Are you-”

“Led Zeppelin sucks and I cannot believe you have so many of their original records. Don’t even get me started on your infatuation with fucking country music. I hate country music and I think it’s time I put my foot down and ban it from the house. What do you say?” you said, squeezing your palm hard over your leg.

He let out a quiet huff of air that was akin to a dry laugh. 

“I say you’re trying to distract me which either means you’re seriously fucked up over there and not telling me or you’re trying to keep me from having a panic attack by falsely insulting my music. So-”

“Hey, I do not like country as much as you and those are facts.”

“I know you don’t yet you listen to it for me,” he said, realizing for the first time it was still playing on the radio. “Imagine if you had to die listening to music you hated.”

“I’d live out of pure spite,” you said, Jensen chuckling a little. “I promise it’s the later. Trust me. If it were bad, I’d be asking you all sorts of shit about Dee so we can shit talk your music choices in the afterlife.”

He laughed for a split second, grunting loudly and making your heart race. “Yeah, you’re okay. Or not actively dying at least.”

“Not doing that. On the negative, everything hurts but positive side, I smell like pizza and beer, two of your favorite things.”

“Always got those silver linings,” he said as you heard sirens in the distance. “Y/N?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“You know how I said my arm was cut up?” he said, swallowing thickly. The pit in your stomach dropped, eyes closing.

“How bad is it?” you whispered.

“Bad enough I wrapped my belt around my arm to stop the bleeding.”

“Be honest. Please,” you said, wishing you could do something, anything. The silence was deafening, his labored inhale the only indication that he was still awake. “How bad?”

“There’s a piece of metal sticking out of my forearm. Pretty sure it sliced through the veins in there judging by the amount of blood.” You fought back tears, taking a shaky breath. “I’m really cold and tired. But I’m gonna stay awake-”

“Write me a song. Write me a fucking country song right now,” you said, forcing your eyes open. “What’s the melody?”

“Uh, what?” he asked. “Y/N, I’m-”

“I know what you’re saying and you can stay up until dawn even when you’re exhausted when you’re working on music so you write me a damn song right now and stay the fuck awake,” you croaked out. 

“Well I need a banjo in there because I know that’s your favorite,” he teased, car doors slamming nearby. 

“You’re a dickhead,” you said, Jensen chuckling. “Alright, banjo. What else?”

“Violin and a cello somehow. You fucking love the sound of-” 

“Him first!” you shouted when you saw some boots in front of you, quickly watching them jog to his side of the car.

“Oh shit,” one of the responders said and with that, your heart truly sank, unsure if it would ever come back up.

They’d gotten Jensen out of the car first and carted off by the time you had a makeshift bandage around your thigh. Something felt off with your leg and several hours and a surgery later, your foot was in a cast. But when you woke up in post-op, Jensen wasn’t there, a nurse telling you he was still in the operation room.

So now all you could do was sit in a room in the ICU, staring out the glass door, praying you saw Jensen. It felt like the longest twenty three minutes of your life.

You shot straight up in bed when you saw a sleepy looking Jensen getting stopped in a bed outside your door.

“Whoa. I want to stay in the hot girl’s room,” he murmured, winking lazily at you. Yeah, he was definitely hopped up on something, his right arm wrapped and wrapped and wrapped in a thick mass of bandages. 

“Let’s leave her alone,” said the nurse behind the bed, pushing him forward again, making him shout. She froze, Jensen staring in your room, shaking his head out.

“That’s my wife. I want to be with her.” The nurse sighed, Jensen’s face falling. “Please,” he whispered, voice cracking.

“You can see her in a minute, I promise,” she said, pushing him along. You waited exactly four minutes before slamming the nurse button over and over, one entering your room, giving you an annoyed glare.

“You should be sleeping,” she said. “You need to rest.”

“My husband is on the other side of this wall and last time I saw him he was bleeding out so I think a five minute field trip is more than fair-”

“He’s asleep like you should be.” You stared her down, the nurse eventually relenting. “Just stay there.” She left and returned after three minutes, shoving an ipad in your hand. “We used these during the pandemic. You can facetime him for a few minutes but then you both need sleep.”

She tapped a number and a split second later, Jensen’s beat up face appeared on screen.

“Well if ain’t the hot girl calling me from her bed,” he teased, the nurse rolling her eyes and leaving. “Are you alone?”

“Yeah. How are you?” you asked. He held up his injured arm and sighed. “You’re alive and that’s what matters.”

“I’m going to need physical therapy again. Months to recover and rebuild the muscle in my forearm. I already know it. You too with that foot of yours.” He rested his head against his pillow. “What about that cut on your leg?”

“Just gotta lay off it for a bit. It’s the same leg as my broken foot so that’ll be easy.” You both just stared at each other for a moment, a mess of bruises and small cuts littering your skin. “We’ll get through this.”

“I know.” He glanced down, closing his eyes. “I didn’t realize I was bleeding so bad until you made me calm down by insulting one of the best bands in history. You saved my neck.”

“That only happened because you put your arm in front of me. It could have been so much worse and-”

“Silly girl,” he murmured, slowly forcing his eyelids open, a softness to them you weren’t expecting. “I’ll always protect you. If you get a little less hurt because I did then that’s a win for me.”

Your bottom lip wobbled, Jensen shushing you. “Don’t say things like that, Jay.”

“Says the girl who stopped me from having a full on panic attack during arguably my worst nightmare. We protect each other, that’s how it works.” You smiled, Jensen returning it. “I’m taking you to a country music festival when we’re up for it in honor of saving me.”

“I want a divorce.” 

He laughed so loud you heard it echo down the hall. He’d be okay again. You both would.

Eventually.

_________

[samcarpentersgirlfriend]

Wes getting attacked (but living) and being comforted by gn reader

found this in the drafts, sorry it took so long </3

summary: above

includes: gn!reader, swearing, maybe some light angst?? (no mention of judy or her death idk pretend it doesn’t happen here if you want to)

word count: 1k

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

“Wes! Wes! I came as soon as I- Oh my God,”

It’s like seeing your boyfriend laying here all bandaged and bruise makes the situation sickeningly real instead of just some twisted nightmare. “Wes,” is all you can bring yourself to breathe out.

You think you’re going to be sick.

“Hey,” Wes croaks out, and God, he sounds so much worse than he looks - if that’s even possible. His skin is an eeriely translucent, and white and tubes jut out from his body from all sorts of unnatural angles. You can practically feel your heart sink to the floor.

“Oh my God,” you repeat once more, stumbling over to his side. You know you should do more - offer your boyfriend some stupid semblance of comfort and security, but you need a minute to pull yourself together - for both of your sakes. Wes wasn’t exactly frail, and the idea that one day you might see him this vulnerable, this bare, hadn’t ever crossed your mind.

You reach out to cup his face, running a finger over his cheek tentatively. It’s one of the only places you can touch, one of the only that isn’t dressed or stitched up somehow. Wes leans into the touch as his eyes flicker closed, letting out a pained sigh.

“What happened?” You urge, voice barely above a whisper. It can’t be any worst than the nightmarish images you’ve conjured up in your mind - visions of your boyfriend screaming for help, a knife tearing through his beautiful skin like paper as he bleeds out all alone.

“Fucking Ghostface,” he breathes out, attempting a hollow laugh but wincing when the effort is evidently too painful for him. “He got in the house, took me by surprise. I tried to fight him off but he was stronger than me. I coul- I couldn’t-“

Telltale tears well in his eyes, and you notice the way he attempts to rapidly blink them away.

“Hey, it’s okay. I got you.” You clasp his fingers in yours as you press a soft kiss to his temple, and that’s all it takes for Wes to burst into tears. You don’t push him to speak or even stop crying; you simply sit besides him, grasping onto his hand as if it’s a lifeline. God, you feel so damn useless, but what is there for you to do? What do you say to your boyfriend who almost got stabbed to death? How do you even start to fix this?

The two of you sit like that for a while - Wes shaking from the effort of his tears, your hands still interlocked. You can’t help but think just how close you were to loosing him- loosing all of this. How you’d never see that stupid grin and bleach blonde hair ever again. How you’d be forced to live, expected to go on in darkness after the blinding light that was Wes had flickered out. It’s enough to make you want to scream.

But you can’t. Not now. And not in front of Wes.

“I’m sorry,” he says, low and strained. His red eyes meet yours, and all of a sudden, you’re angry. Angrier than you think you’ve ever felt before. Not at Wes - never at Wes - but just at how damn unfair this all is. Why was Wes - your Wes- falling apart and barely alive when the monster who did this to him was still out there? How was it fair that he feels like he has to apologise for you for daring to cry about almost dying?

“No,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. Your ire must seep deep into your tone though, because Wes glances back up at you before turning his head away once more. Gently, you turn his chin so his eyes are back on you, and you repeat yourself again - this time, much more softly.

“No. Don’t you dare apologise, you hear me? You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. And I’m not angry at you, baby. It’s just-“ you sigh before you speak again. “It’s just that… I hate whoever did this to you. When we find out who it is, I swear, I’m gonna fucking kill them myself. “

Wes smiles. “Didn’t know I had my own personal bodyguard.” The fact that he still has the ability to crack jokes after all that’s happened, you realise, makes you want to smile and sob - preferably at the same time. Wes really is the most resilient person you know, but goddamn it, he shouldn’t have to be.

“I wish I was your body guard,” you reply, lips quirked upwards. “Then I could be with you all the time. Means you wouldn’t have been by yourself when it happened.”

At that, Wes’s gaze snaps up, all traces of his grin gone in an instant. “And have you lying here next to me - fuck, instead of me? Have you dead? No way in hell.” His tone leaves no room for argument, so you you simply keep quiet. Neither you nor Wes speak, the two of you presumably both lost in your own racing thoughts. It strangely borders on comfortable, and more importantly, it’s enough.

After a while, you shuffle closer to your boyfriend, carefully resting your head in the crook of his neck as he places his head on top of yours. It’s the best thing you can think of right now - you can’t wrap Wes up and tell him everything’s okay because it’s not. None of this is okay.

“I love you,” you murmur into the silence, because you need Wes to know. Need him to know how grateful you are to have him, how grateful you are that he’s alive. Because honestly? You have no idea what you’d do without him - you dread to even think. “And I’ll be here for you every single step of the way. Promise.” You hold out your pinky with the last word - it’s childish, you know that, but after everything, maybe that’s exactly what you need right now.

“Love you too,” he echoes, interlocking his finger with yours before squeezing it tight. “More than you’ll ever know.”

[romancefranaticstay]

TᑌTOᖇ ᗰE

Category: ♥ Fluff, smut ♥

Teacher!Seungmin x fem!reade!student

Another day, another time, it sucked. You were a student at the university of Seoul. You were doing great at almost every subject you choosed, exspect... math.

You didn't even know why math was one of your subjects. You never choosed it. You even sended a mail, but you couldn't change now. So you had to survive it this year. Your worst nightmare, you worst fear, *math*.

Your teacher didn't had time to tutor you, so he asked another math-teacher to help you. Today was the day to meet him, after school.

The entire day went very slowly, but atleast your friends were comique so it wasn't to boring. Your teachers were always gossiping about every student. And then they dare to say that we are horrible?! How?

After school you had to stay in your classroom. You were waiting and playing with your pencils. When he wasn't here yet for the past 5 minutes, you decided to walk around the classroom. Just walking and staring at the walls.

Suddenly the door opened and you saw an interesting man walking inside.

'Miss... I/N Y/N?" his eyes widened when he saw you. You were very beautifull, he could not deny.

'Yes, that is me, i am here for you tutoring lessons.'

'You can seat yourself next to me.'

You walked over and seated yourself. The chair hurted your butt, but that does every chair in this university.

'Could you tell me what you don't understand?'

'Everything.'

'Everything is much.'

'Yeah i don't know much about math.'

He started with chapter six, because thats the most important chapter. His voice was very soft and it made you relaxed. You could quit understand a bit, but it was very difficult, because maybe this would sound weird... he was extremely hot. You could call him 'smexy'.

You were staring a bit to him. Not really focusing on this theorie of this chapter. His lips were cute, his nose also, but his eyes. You just could stare in them forever.

He saw you watching his face. He actually didn't mind it. You snapped out of you deep-stare.

'I am sorry, i was just wandering into my thoughts, mine apologies.'

'It is okay, this part is not very important.'

He was actually only supposed to teach you for 1 hour, but he taught you for 2 hours. You didn't watch the clock, you loved each other's presence. He could explain everything so well, his voice was so beautiful. For him, 2 hours feels like 10 minutes. Its beautiful; hands turned the page.

Suddenly your alarm went off, and everything was a little disrupted. Seungmin looked at his watch.

'Oops, it's already 8pm, my apologies. I'll give you some papers to work on at home. You have lessons from me every day, so finish these papers by tomorrow if possible.'

'That's probably possible, depending on what tasks I still have to complete from my other teachers. Thank you for this lesson.'

you stood up and started packing everything up.

'I'll see you again tomorrow. Have a nice day!'

He watched you leave the classroom. He never noticed what a beautiful figure you have. He had already seen you walking around, but of course he had never spoken to you. Of course he had never spoken to you before, you are a student and he is a teacher. It is not forbidden, but it is frowned upon. Still, some girls flirted with him, sometimes tried to touch him themselves, but always avoided them. If you flirted with him, he wouldn't avoid it. But you weren't really that romantic, you read a lot of novels, but even when you were little you realized that not everything in the books could be fulfilled.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and your teacher started to grow a little closer together. You could say that you two formed a friendly bond. Sometimes you got jealous when some girls tried to twist Seungmin around their fingers. But yes, Seungmin also got jealous when boys came to you. You were very beautiful and intelligent, so boys took their chance, even sometimes girls tried to take their chance with you. You didn't always notice that. Your eyes were actually only focused on Seungmin.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat in your class and you followed the reading. You sometimes overheard some conversations that were happening in front of you. You were learning about Korean Culture when you suddenly heard Seungmin's name in front of you.

"He's so handsome, could he be that good in bed?" two girls giggled.

You straightened your back and started to lean a little closer.

"He could play with me."

You looked at them as if they were crazy. Seungmin isn't that type of guy. What are they thinking, talking about him like that, aren't they ashamed? Your brow furrowed as you heard their multiple conversations. Deep inside you were burning with jealousy, so many girls wanted to have him. So many girls, some were so beautiful in your eyes. You started to focus on your classes again, but what if... what if Seungmin enjoys all that attention? What if he likes one of those many girls? What if he's... a spicy teacher... if you know what I mean? No, that's not possible, no, Seungmin a spicy teacher? Maybe...

You were walking around the square with one of your friends, just chatting about boys and also the new Arcade. You went through the main hall when you saw a group of girls surrounding Seungmin. They all asked him questions and if he could tutor them. They gave him cookies and so much attention. It made you angry, even though there is absolutely nothing between you and Seungmin. He saw you looking from a distance, he saw anger in your eyes. He turned away from all the girls and came towards you. Why is he coming towards me, you thought. You panicked a bit, he looked so good today. His sleeves were rolled up, his blouse was very tight, his buttons could pop off at any moment. You looked in all directions, your girlfriend looked at you strangely, as if you were a mad dog. You dragged her with you to the girls' toilets.

Seungmin tried to speak to you but it was already too late. Of course he wasn't allowed in the girls' toilets.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Lately you started to distance yourself from him. He didn't understand why. He tried to have a conversation with you outside of school, but you avoided him every time. The tutoring sessions were also filled with a kind of tension and not good tension. Sometimes he tried to sit close to you, just to give you some comfort.

He wanted to ask you about it, but he didn't want to bother you with all those questions. At some point he had enough, because he cared about you a lot. He wanted to love you and he would do anything to fix it.

Tutoring was over, and you started packing your things. You wanted to go to the door, but suddenly he blocked you.

“I can't take it anymore Y/N. What did I do wrong? Did I hurt your feelings? Did I accidentally hurt you?'

'What are you talking about?'

"Lately I feel like you're trying to avoid me, have I done something?"

You were quiet. You looked at the ground.

'No nothing.'

He lifted your chin with his index finger.

'Do not lie to me. You can tell me.' '

No, I can't do that.'

'Why not?'

“It's not your fault, it's just…”

you took a deep breath

“all the girls are hanging around you. Flirting with you and for some strange reason it makes me jealous and an-'

he interrupted you by kissing you on the lips. His tongue slid through your mouth. He placed his hand on the back of your head. You opened your mouth wide, giving him all the access. He slid his tongue out of your mouth.

"Does that answer?"

'Don't know.' you teased.

"Maybe you should be a little more clear?"

"Of course princess."

He brought you in for another kiss. This time he held your cheeks with both hands. He stroked it with his thumbs. He made you step back until you bumped into his desk. He opened your legs with his knee. From your mouth his tongue went to your neck. He started licking it like a puppy. You whined softly. You heard him laugh against your neck. His fingers slid into your underwear. He slid between your folds, which were very wet. 'Wet for me? I love that.' He began to gently caress your clit while still sucking on your neck.

You started to position yourself on his desk. He pulled your panties down so he could get a good view. You could see through his pants that he was already hard. You took off his belt and pulled his pants down enough so you could take out his member. He groaned when you started to gently pump his dick. Just to make sure it was hard enough. He positioned himself at your entrance, he began to quietly nestle himself into you.

He held you tight as he slowly started pumping into you. You felt safe with him, his warmth. You heard his heart beat faster. He whispered soft words into your ears, which actually made you more excited. The fact that he was only your tutor two months ago.

His rhythm quickened, so did his breath, his hands felt every part of your body, his hair got wet, his body sweaty, and this all happened in a boring classroom. Your legs were shaking with excitement. Your arms clung to his neck. Everything was perfect, even if you did it on his desk.

"I *kiss* love you so *kiss much, baby."

You brought your two heads closer together.

'You are my soulmate. You are my soul, ohh *kiss* Seungmin, *kiss* what would I do without *kiss* you?'

He kissed you with passion, he kissed you like it was the end, he made sure you knew how much he loved you.

When you both came, he still held you tightly. He looked at you and caressed your cheek.

'That I could love you, as I did just now, is what you call happiness.' 'I feel happy with you.'

Your lips met again, and you devoured each other. You couldn't keep your hands off each other. Everything was perfect at this moment, the atmosphere, the sounds and the one person who could make it all happen: Seungmin.

[demonsslayersstuff]

Haunted (Armin Artlet x Reader)

A/N: This a requested fic with a reader who has anxiety and depression. I took some creative liberty within my writing, but I do hope this fic follows what you wanted.

Warnings: Mentions of death (not too graphic), anxiety, depression, survivors guilt, hints of suicide (though nothing too graphic), angst and comfort. Please keep these warnings in mind, especially if they trigger you.

In the beginning, you couldn’t get the screams out of your head. No matter what you did, they were an almost constant sound ringing in your ears. You tried your best to push it away, you had a job to do and needed to focus on it. However, the screams always managed to come back, often worse in your nightmares.

You stand still, almost as if you’re trapped by an invisible force as you watch hopelessly as your friends and colleagues perish brutally. Bodies ripped to shreds as if they were simple pieces of paper. Thrown around like a toy rag doll. The scene ironically reminded you of a puppy picking up its toy and shaking it violently. But Titan’s were not puppies and your squad members were not chew toys.

You’d awaken with your throat raw from screams, eyes wet with tears. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d slept through the night. The bags under your eyes were a clear indicator of your lack of sleep, but yet you pushed forward. Often at times your only driving force was to join your friends on the other side, most days you were ready to meet your maker. You’d rush forward with open arms, greeting death like a long lost friend. Then things changed.

One day you had something, scratch that, you had someone to keep you grounded. Armin, his name often fell from your lips in song, his name sometimes turning into a mantra on your darkness days. You’d often internally question why he chose you. You had already been broken from the years of pain and torment that you’d been handed the moment you joined the scouts. But that never seemed to bother him. He was by your side from the moment the two of you had laid eyes on each other.

You trained together, fought together, you admired his strategic mind, and he seemed to enjoy your company. Feelings had blossomed quickly between the two of you. Armin was the calm in the storm and unbeknownst to you, Armin had the same feeling. You were his anchor, keeping him tethered to this world when it felt like it was ending.

When your hands would shake, his would grip yours firmly, squeezing them reassuringly. Eventually, when you’d wake up screaming from the constant nightmares his words were the first to comfort you and eventually his lips as they brushed against yours soothingly. As if Armin was telling you it’s ok, I’m right here. While the images of expeditions replaying in your mind haunted you, with him by your side it helped to calm the phantom screams in your mind.

Armin was always patient with you, never judging you on your worst days. He of all people understood the paralyzing effects of anxiety, who was he to think of you any less? In fact, Armin admired your strength and courage, because even though some days you wanted to give up, you always managed to push through, to come out on the other side.

“Y/N”, you hear softly, breaking you away from your thoughts. You look up as your partner walks towards you, hands full with the drinks he’d just purchased. “You ok?”, Armin asks as he sets the drinks down, blue eyes catching yours, almost knowing that your brain had been in over drive. You smile softly, “I’m ok, now that you’re here”, your reply, moving your hand to give his a light squeeze, his presence helping to calm your ever racing mind.

Armin leans down to kiss your forehead softly before he moves to sit across from you. Comfortable silence befalls you two as you watch the sunset across the new world, your first night together post the war. Though you knew you’d continue to have bad days, you also knew that with Armin at your side, you make it through it and that was an enough to calm your mind for now. So as the sun dips done below the horizon and you whisper, “I love you”, both you and Armin know the silent message behind those three words.

[courtingchaos]

Anything with Steve! LOL

Dream Barista

Nightmare!Steve Harrington x Fem Reader

A/N: My dearest @bettyfrommars has let me borrow her Nightmare Steve for this little ditty. I’ve been thinking about the blurb she wrote for me during her prompt requests and I really just wanted to toss him in a situation. I’ve been suffering a bit in these first few weeks of summer so here’s a little spooky season for you.

No warnings!

18+ No Minors

“Do I know you?” You’ve been staring at the barista making your coffee for almost five-no…five minutes? Seriously how long has it been?

“Me? I’m not sure, I think I’d remember you.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You frown when you say this, banter that feels weird in your mouth. Come to think of it your mouth just feels weird in general. Dry and cottony all of a sudden and a too big tongue. “I’m sorry, this is gonna sound stupid, but what did I order?” You’re eyes have not left this man but when he dips down to pull a container of oat milk out of the fridge there’s a flash of red, the back of his neck deep crimson under his fluffy brown hair.

He holds up a paper cup with your name scribbled on it. “Hazelnut Macchiato.”

There’s a huff behind you, a customer upset with their wait and the packed cafe probably, but you lean forward into the glass partition to get a closer look at the scribble. “I don’t usually get hot…drinks…” The black marks mean nothing. That isn’t your name and whatever has been written isn’t legible. Another huff behind you, closer now and you can feel the heat coming off of this person. “I don’t think that’s my drink.”

The barista suddenly seems nervous, eyes flicking behind you a few times before you catch his gaze again he smiles tightly at you. “This is gonna be stressful, I’m sorry.”

“I mean, it’s just an iced coffee.” You try to make a joke but it comes out more like a cough when one of those bodies behind you bumps you forward into the counter. Words knocked out of you in a puff you try to turn around to ask what their problem is when you notice the cafe is packed. Full to the brim, to the gills, with a crowd of black eyed anger. People in all states stare at you as their voices raise to yell about wasted time. Meetings they’re late to. Children they have to pick up. Useless employees who can’t move faster. Rooted to the spot you stare back at them and panic. This really is your worst nightmare when they start moving forward to press the counter and you do the only thing you can think to do; climb up and over the counter and partition, kicking the espresso machine and banging your knee on your way down the other side.

No other employees are there as steam wands continue to push steam and grinders pull beans. A clatter behind the register makes your head snap over and there is one barista, the brunette man that was making not your drink. He’s taller than he was a moment ago and you try to say sorry for climbing over the equipment and breaking about a hundred food safety rules but the flash in his fist makes you choke. Long bread knife pointed at you-no, past you, but he advances with an apologetic look pinching his face. That crowd that grew is suddenly climbing like you did and you decide to run for the swinging black door to the back, hoping that you’re not making a mistake. It’s cramped and twisted but the chaos behind you pushes you forward into the maze, especially when you catch sight of that knife behind you. The twists are sharp, too many to make any sense but you can’t think of that right now, you need to get to that back door. Find that cold air outside and the stretch of highway that has to be out there where you can run in the open and find someone, anyone.

Like a mirror in a funhouse that fire exit is right in front of you for you to slam your body into, hands grasping at the large push handle that won’t budge. Voices raise in a cacophony of accusations but one rings out clear with your name. Of course it would be the knife wielding possible red skinned barista but when he makes it to you it almost looks like he smiles at you. The handle pushes open suddenly with a hard slap of your palm and cold air fills your lungs just before you get taken out at the knees with the large trash bin. Tangled immediately in blue bags of grounds and paper cups you feel the bin roll. Fingers grasp for the edge of plastic that should be right there but instead you grapple with bags that try to drown you, right until they don’t. A large hand pushes through and grabs yours, pulls up hard and there he is.

“Time to get out of here, if you know what I mean.” He grins and suddenly it dawns on you as he looms over you with longer hair curling up behind his ears. Paper with string and then red skin and dark eyes. “Devil.”

“Yes! Devil!” He points at the enamel pin on his black apron, a little horned devil next to a grinning skull. “You do remember me.” He smiles even as the beating behind the heavy door continues, even when it bucks against his impossible hold on it. The bright joy takes over and you can feel yourself smiling too, right until you get a tingle up your spine. Hairs on the back of your neck stand upright just before the air smells of ozone and lighting strikes the blacktop next to you.

You barely scream before he’s pulling you out of the large bin and dragging you across a parking lot that seems to morph under your feet. The horde from inside streams out from the back door now but the asphalt buckles and craters as more of them follow. Somehow the two of you walk fine but these monsters seem less monstrous now as they fumble and fall, grasping onto one another for balance as the coffee house parking swallows them up in big black clouds of dust.

“Steve what is-”

“Hey, you remembered my name!” He turns back to you fast and you’re not sure if you see it right, if his eyes were black and then soft brown. They’re warm when they’re on you though, smile touching the crinkles in the corners.

“Of course, I just don’t…what is going on?” This has to be a dream. A nightmare actually when you think about the customers turned hungry mass and the thunder that has suddenly shown up. Before you can pull at him to slow down it’s like a switch is flipped. Rain falls in a sheet turning the world grey. “Steve hold on!” You have to shout over the din of the rain hitting the ground, spattering in the mud that your shoes are stuck in now and-

“Am I dreaming?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” It’s obvious now. Is this what lucid dreaming is? You look around to see the world has changed. Through the heavy rain you make out small hills around you, molding you and Steve into a valley wreathed in trees showing off their golden colors. Thick maple leaves cling to branches and wispy ginkgo flutter to the ground as the rain begins to lighten up. Your fingers still clutch at Steve’s but it’s only drawn him in closer, another shift in reality as he holds a leather jacket out to you from seemingly nowhere.

“Here, it’s gonna get a little cold.”

It’s warm like he’s been wearing it the whole time and he holds the collar up so you can slide your arms in. “I’m really confused.”

“I bought us a little more time.” He nods his head towards an incline and holds up an arm for you to fall under. “Not much, but enough for me to actually show you some stuff. No mermaids tonight though.”

“The face eaters?” You remember this suddenly, a motorcycle rumbling between your knees as you clung on for dear life before…before what you can’t remember that but it doesn’t matter right now. Steve is warm and he holds you against him as he takes you around a thicket of trees to a little set up.

“Did you make a picnic?”

“Kind of.” He’s bashful and you finger the pins on his lapel, nail tracing the raised edge of the devil horns. “More of a resting place.”

“Oh, morbid. I like it.” The flannel blanket is soft under you. The sunset burns oranges and purples in unrealistic hues and the trees around you drop endless leaves that tap lightly on their falls. Steve sits beside you, quiet and watching the side of your face, studious like you might disappear at any moment. If you’re right and this really is a dream, you suppose that could happen. Tonight though you’d taken some of those sleep gummies so maybe he’d be stuck with you for longer than planned.

“That doesn’t really have a lot of bearing on all of this.”

“Can you read my mind?” You ask with a laugh and sharp look. Steve shrugs and sighs before he winds a hand around your hip to pull you closer and back towards him where he falls backwards onto the blanket.

“A little?” He says it like a question but you find you don’t much care. Not with him it seems, not with this comfort you’ve found in sleep, something that has eluded you for most of your adult life. The sun isn’t setting like it should, it just hovers along the horizon and you watch little smudges of black flit across the light, either bats or birds or something other. Trying to get comfortable against Steve’s shoulder you realize your hair is still wet while the rest of you is dry like the grass around you.

“Sorry about that, I just needed a quick transition.” His smile is soft like his hair and his eyes and you feel lulled. Safe and comfortable like you’ve made a bed out of nature and him and dreams.

“I like the rain, it’s just sometimes the thunder scares me. Makes me feel like the world is gonna spin out.” You curl into his chest and catch a whiff of coffee for just a moment. Exhaustion pulls at your eyelids suddenly. “Were you…did you make me coffee earlier?” Sleep has caught you it would seem and you can feel how lax you go, fingers falling out of their places twisted in his shirt as his own grip tightens around your shoulders. Under the roasted scent there’s a latex smell, something sweet and aged with a hint of pumpkin. Cinnamon? God it smells like something you can’t put your finger on.

“Maybe. I do make a great a cup.” He’s quieter now as you seem to fade fast, his grip more secure as you relax further. “Next time I won’t chase you out with a bread knife, okay?” He whispers into the crown of your head and it gets a tired chuckle from you. “I’ll leave the thunder out too, I just needed you a little scared so I could get some more time.”

“No I liked the storm. Bring that back with you.” Another deep sigh before it feels like you’ve missed the last step into the basement and suddenly, you remember. “Halloween.”

“What?”

“Halloween boxes, decorations. It’s your mask.”

He feels your last words spoken into his shoulder as you mumble them against him and he can smell it now too. In your hair and his jacket, something sweet and warm that makes him think of aisles of masks and taper candles. Pumpkins that match the ever present deep sunset on this horizon and the dry leaves that stick to the damp, dying earth.

You’re gone before he realizes it and he slaps a hand down hard on the flannel blanket where you just were. The stage under him reverberates with his hit and the lights above him switch from warm tones to cool. He can’t linger for long, not when Ed has already brought more eyes down on this department, but he does linger. You remembered the mask and his name and next time? Next time you’ll remember the sunset and the warmth. When he stands and picks his jacket up he catches the fading scent you brought with you and he braces himself to leave the small sound stage.

Tomorrow night, he thinks to himself, tomorrow night I’ll bring you a sweeter sleep.

[honeesucker]

Not to be horny on main™ but my obsession with the COD men has reared its ugly head.

"Atta girl," Price's deep voice groaned above you as you sat shaded beneath his desk, his thick cock heavy on your tongue as you bobbed up and down on the hardened length, sucking him deep into your mouth until his heavy cockhead was prodding the back of your throat, eliciting a few small gags.

His large hands were on your head, one gently holding the side of your head steady, his thumb running across your cheek; his other hand tangled in your hair, gripping the back of your head as he gently fucked you up and down on his cock with a gentle force.

One of your hands worked on massaging his heavy balls, a groan leaving his lips as he rained down filthy praise at you, his orgasm moments away when a loud, three-strike knock sounded at his door.

All of his movements ceased, though he kept the hand tangled in your hair as he had you pressed so far down on his cock the trim pubes at the base of his cock tickled your nose. You know he was giving you a gag order: you better stay quiet.

"Enter," Price's steady voice called out, and as the door opened it revealed your worst nightmare... the man you never wanted to catch you down on your knees for your Captain... Simon fucking Riley. "Simon, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Price asked casually, his hand detangling from your hair as you followed his silent order, keep his cock warm in your mouth.

"Captain, Sir... I wanted to make a recommendation on Private [Name]." Your whole body froze at the mention of your name... was he here to tell Price you were a worthless soldier, not worth the air you breathed while working on the task force... he was your Lieutenant, after all... his word could get you transferred, or discharged, or worse should he so choose.

"A recommendation, Simon? You're not usually a man to give up on a soldier so easily," Price adjusted his hips, his cock briefly pushing deeper down your throat, a subtle reminder to stay quiet as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his desk.

"Not giving up on that little demon, Price," Ghost said thoughtfully, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'm recommending her for promotion to Sergeant, to train alongside Soap. She's proven it in her training, she's proven her worth in the missions... I think she'd make one hell of a Sergeant, Sir." Ghost finished, the sound of papers shuffling as he pulled out his report on you from beneath his vest and set it on Price's desk.

"Simon, I'm touched... you don't normally take a shine to our rookies like this." Price murmured out with a hint of humor in his voice, arching a brow as he looked up at Ghost who just shrugged, a hidden smile beneath that balaclava covering his face. "Alright, Simon, I'll take your recommendation into consideration, write my report and get it sent up to the higher-ups for final decision." Price finished, Ghost none the wiser to you cock warming his boss beneath his desk as he turned to leave Price's office.

However...

On the other side of the door Ghost was smirking beneath his mask... you two weren't sneaky enough to slip past his observant gaze, and it was too much fun to make his recommendation to Price when Ghost knew you were on your knees beneath his desk. Ghost turned and walked away from Price's office with an unusual pep in his step, feeling a bit cheeky. Ghost didn't care if you were a slut for their Captain, he cared the most about how good of a soldier you were, and your contributions to the team.

Price took a moment before looking down at you, shocked by the sight of fat streams of tears slipping down your cheeks. He was already worried as he pulled you off his cock, rubbing his thumbs on your cheeks to wipe away your tears. "What's the matter, lass?" Price asked as you just sniffled and looked up at him with a pout.

"H-He... he doesn't hate me... h-he thinks I-I'm good e-enough to be a S-Sergeant?" You sobbed softly, overwhelmed with emotion and pride in yourself and all of your hard work, even more that a man you admired thought highly of you enough to make such a recommendation.

"Oh, you poor thing..." Price pulled you up from your knees, hugging your waist as he pulled you between his legs, his head resting just beneath your breasts on your abdomen, listening to your rapidly beating heart, and soft, shaky breaths. "You deserve it, I meant what I said to him... I'll finish my own report today and send it up for final decision but with your track record I don't think they'd deny our choice..." Price said softly, pulling you back as he wiped more of your tears away. "You deserve it, lass, you worked hard for this... in more ways than one I might add." Price couldn't hold back his laughter as you frowned and punched his shoulder softly at the jab.

"Respectfully, Sir..." you said with a sharp tone, an edge of humor in your words. "Shut it." You both laughed together and then Price's hands landed on your hips, pulling you closer as he looked up at you.

"Now how about we finished what we started, and you come bounce on my cock, lass?" Price offered, groaning as your hand travelled down and gripped his still-hard cock.

"Is that an order, Captain?" You asked cheekily.

"That's an order, Private... show me just how grateful you are for my recommendation with that talented pussy of yours." He growled out with a low rumble, his voice reverberating through you as you shuddered softly.

"Yes, Sir..."