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linoxpudding · 2 months ago

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Panic Attack- Han Jisung

summary: you have a panic attack but your boyfriend doesn't take it seriously

pairing: han jisung x fem!reader, bsf!lee know x reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

fic type: written + text

warnings: panic attack, hospital setting, IV drip mentioned

a/n: I combined this request and this request for this fic—please ignore any medical inaccuracies, as this was based on online research

Masterlist

~°~

Jisung sprinted through the hospital hallways, his lungs burning from the run, but he didn’t care. His mind was spinning, heart pounding, as he searched for Room 306. He felt sick. The last thing he had said to you was that he was busy.

And now you were here.

When he finally spotted Minho standing outside the room, arms crossed, expression unreadable, he rushed toward him, nearly stumbling in his panic.

“Where is she?” Jisung gasped. “Is she okay?”

Minho barely looked at him. “She’s stable.”

Jisung exhaled, relief washing over him for a split second before the weight of guilt crashed back down. “Why does she have to stay overnight?”

Minho’s jaw tightened. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before answering.

“She was hyperventilating for too long. It messed with her oxygen levels, her hands went numb, and she collapsed before the ambulance even got there.” His voice was sharp, clipped, but Jisung could hear the exhaustion beneath it. “She was severely dehydrated, too. They put her on an IV and gave her oxygen. They need to monitor her heart rate overnight to make sure she’s completely stable.”

Jisung felt like he couldn’t breathe. His chest ached with the weight of it. “She—she collapsed?”

Minho’s gaze finally met his, cold and sharp. “Yeah. She collapsed. And do you know what the worst part is?”

Jisung swallowed hard, barely able to force out the words. “What?”

Minho scoffed, shaking his head. “She didn’t even want my help. Because you refused it.” His voice was laced with anger now, eyes burning with something deeper than frustration—disappointment. “I had to convince her to let me call for help. She was begging me not to.”

Jisung felt like he was going to throw up.

“She didn’t want help because I—” His voice cracked.

“Because you made her feel like a burden,” Minho finished for him. “She was terrified, Han. And the one person she trusted to be there wasn’t.”

Jisung’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. His whole body trembled. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

“Then what the hell were you thinking?” Minho snapped.

Jisung sucked in a sharp breath. “I was busy! I was working on a song with 3RACHA, I—”

Minho let out a cold, humorless laugh. “Oh, you were busy?” His expression turned ice cold. “Chan and Changbin care about her too. You could’ve left.”

Jisung opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“You chose not to,” Minho continued. “And because of that, I was the one holding her while she begged me not to call for help. I was the one watching her struggle to breathe. I was the one who had to see her collapse.” His voice lowered, but the weight of his words crushed Jisung completely. “That should’ve been you.”

Jisung’s heart shattered.

“Minho hyung, I swear, I—I didn’t know it was this bad,” he choked out.

Minho exhaled harshly, crossing his arms again. “She told you it was bad.” His voice was quieter now, but somehow, that made it worse. “She begged you.”

Jisung’s eyes burned. He wanted to run into that room, fall to his knees, and beg for forgiveness. But as he glanced toward the door, a lump formed in his throat.

“…Can I see her?” he asked weakly.

Minho studied him for a moment before shaking his head. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

The words hit harder than any punch could.

Jisung staggered back slightly, his breath hitching. “Hyung, please,” he whispered. “Let me talk to her.”

Minho’s eyes softened for the briefest second before his expression hardened again. “You don’t get to make this about you, Han.”

Jisung dropped his gaze to the floor, his entire body trembling.

Minho sighed, voice lower now. “The only thing you can do now is wait and hope she forgives you.” He turned toward the door but paused. “Because right now? I wouldn’t.”

And with that, he stepped inside, leaving Jisung standing alone in the hallway, drowning in the weight of his own regret.

He hesitates before stubbornly decides to enter the room. But what if you didn’t want to see him? What if you told him to leave?

Would he even blame you?

Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside.

The sight of you hit him like a gut punch. You were lying in the hospital bed, looking exhausted—eyes heavy, face pale, body small beneath the thick hospital blanket. An IV was hooked to your arm. The sight alone made his stomach turn with guilt.

Minho was sitting on a chair beside your bed, arms crossed, his gaze burning into Jisung the moment he walked in. It wasn’t just anger in his expression. It was disappointment.

"Hey," Jisung croaked out. His voice felt foreign, like it didn’t belong to him.

You barely reacted. You glanced at him for half a second before looking away, as if he wasn’t even worth the energy.

That hurt more than if you had screamed at him.

“I—I didn’t know it was this bad,” he said, stepping closer. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. “I should’ve listened. I should’ve been there.”

No response.

“I don’t have an excuse.”

Silence.

Jisung felt like he was drowning. You always had something to say to him. Even when you both fought, even when you were annoyed—you never ignored him like this.

“Please say something,” he pleaded. “Anything.”

You let out a breath. When you finally spoke, your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“Why did you come?”

It felt like a slap.

Jisung’s throat tightened. “Because I care about you. Because I was stupid and I hurt you.” His voice cracked, but he didn’t care. “I should’ve dropped everything the second you needed me. And now you’re here because I didn’t.”

You sighed, your gaze still focused on the blanket, fingers playing with the fabric.

“I needed you,” you murmured. “And you weren’t there.”

His heart shattered. He didn’t even know how to breathe past the guilt in his chest.

“I know,” he whispered. “And I don’t know how to fix it, but I want to.” He took a cautious step closer. “Please let me.”

Slowly, finally, you looked at him. Jisung wished you hadn’t because the hurt in your eyes physically pained him. It was so much worse than anger.

“I don’t know if I can trust you to be there when I need you anymore.”

Jisung’s breath hitched.

He had no idea what to say. The weight of your words settled in his chest like a stone, suffocating, immovable.

He had never felt this helpless before.

“Y/N…” His voice was barely above a whisper, his throat dry.

But you were already looking away again, your gaze unfocused, your fingers still gripping the blanket as if it was the only thing keeping you together.

Minho sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I told you she didn’t want to see you.” His voice was sharper now, edged with irritation. “You should go.”

Jisung's stomach twisted. He had never wanted to fight with Minho, never wanted to be on the receiving end of that cold disappointment. But more than that, he had never wanted to hurt you like this.

“I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Not like this.” He turned his attention back to you. “Please, Y/N, just tell me how I can fix this.”

You let out a hollow laugh, but there was no humor in it. Just exhaustion.

“You can’t.”

Jisung took another step closer, gripping the rail at the foot of the bed like it was the only thing keeping him standing.

“I can. I will.” His voice was desperate now. “Tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it. Anything.”

Your eyes flickered to him then. He could see the hurt, the anger, the exhaustion—all emotions that were directed at him.

“You ignored me,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “I was having a breakdown, and you told me you were busy.”

Jisung flinched.

You let out a slow breath. “I kept telling myself you’d text back. That maybe you just didn’t see my message right away. But then the hours passed, and I realized you did see it. You just didn’t care enough to respond.”

Jisung’s grip tightened on the railing. “That’s not true,” he whispered.

“Isn’t it?” Your eyes met his again, this time sharper. “Because it sure felt like it.”

Minho exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You really fucked up, Han.”

Jisung shut his eyes, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He knew that. He didn’t need Minho to tell him.

“I wasn’t thinking,” he admitted. His voice was strained, like it physically hurt to speak. “I thought… I don’t know, I thought it wasn’t that serious.” He shook his head. “I didn’t know it would get this bad, Y/N.”

“I told you,” you murmured. “You just didn’t listen.”

He looked at you, searching for something—some opening, some way to make this right. But all he saw was the space he had created between them.

“I don’t know how to make this up to you,” he whispered, his voice raw. “But I need you to know that I never wanted to hurt you. I’d never forgive myself if…” He swallowed hard. “If something worse had happened.”

You didn’t say anything.

Minho stood up, placing a hand on your head before turning to Jisung. “You should leave.”

Jisung’s heart clenched. “Hyung—”

“Just for now,” Minho added, his voice softer but still firm. “She needs to rest. You being here is only making her more exhausted.”

He hesitated. Every instinct screamed at him to stay, to do something. But the way you looked at him—the emptiness in your expression—told him he had already done enough damage for one night.

“…Okay,” he finally whispered. “I’ll go.”

He turned to leave, his footsteps slow, heavy. But just as he reached the door, he glanced back.

You still weren't looking at him.

His stomach twisted as he feared he might have already lost you.

**************

Jisung didn’t leave the hospital that night.

Minho told him to go home, but he couldn’t. Instead, he sat outside your hospital room, back against the cold hallway wall, staring at the door as if sheer willpower alone could make everything right again.

But it wasn’t that simple.

He had messed up. Deeply. And now, the one person who meant the most to him didn’t trust him anymore.

That thought alone made it impossible to leave.

---

Morning came, and Jisung’s body ached from sleeping in the hallway. He wasn’t sure if Minho had let him stay out of pity or just given up trying to make him leave, but either way, he was still here.

And when the door finally creaked open, revealing you in a hospital gown, looking as exhausted as ever, his heart stuttered.

You blinked at him, clearly surprised. “…You’re still here?”

He scrambled to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah.” His voice came out rough, hoarse from a lack of sleep. “I—uh, I couldn’t leave. Not when things are like this.”

You sighed, stepping back into the room and letting the door stay open. An invitation, even if it wasn’t direct. He hesitated for only a second before following you inside.

You climbed back into bed carefully, wincing as you adjusted the blanket over your lap. Jisung watched you, guilt creeping back up his throat.

“Y/N…” He took a deep breath. “I meant what I said last night. I don’t know how to fix this, but I’ll do anything.”

You stared at your hands, fingers tracing the hem of the blanket. “Han… I don’t know if I can just forget this.”

“I don’t want you to forget,” Han said quickly, stepping closer. “I just—I want you to let me prove that I won’t let this happen again. That I’ll be better.”

You looked up at him then, searching his face. “…How?”

Jisung let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll listen. Even when I think it’s not a big deal, even when I don’t understand—I’ll listen. I’ll be there. No more excuses, no more brushing things off. You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t rely on me again.”

You bit your lip, eyes flickering with uncertainty.

For a moment, silence filled the room. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, waiting—hoping.

Then, you sighed. “You really hurt me, you know.”

He swallowed hard. “I know.”

You stared at him for another moment before finally, finally, patting the empty space beside you on the hospital bed. “Sit.”

His breath caught.

Without hesitation, he moved to sit beside you, careful not to hurt you. You leaned back against the pillows, looking tired but… softer. Less distant.

“I don’t know if I forgive you yet,” you admitted.

He nodded. “That’s okay.”

“…But you can start making it up to me by shutting up and letting me sleep.”

A small, breathless chuckle escaped him. He nodded again. “Deal.”

And as he sat there, watching over you as you closed your eyes, he silently promised himself—

He would never let you feel alone again.

#skz au #stray kids au #skz x reader #stray kids fake texts #skz fake texts #stray kids texts #stray kids #lee know fake texts #han jisung scenarios #han jisung x reader #han jisung fake texts #han jisung angst #skz texts

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makeitmakesomesense · 4 months ago

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A Second Listen

Natasha Romanoff x SuperShy!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Day 4: I've merged a lovely request from a lovely friend with the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 4th of January, which is 'January'.

Natasha didn’t look at you twice when you were introduced to the team.

It was one of the most embarrassing moments of your life but it was always going to be. Standing in front of a group of intimidating strangers was your worst nightmare.

You didn’t even have to speak. Agent Hill walked you into a boardroom and all you had to do was stand there and wave.

Instead, you could barely glance up from the carpeted floor.

They’d been told, you could tell. They’d been told that you were very shy. Everyone looking back at you gave you a polite smile.

No one seemed to expect anything more from you.

You wished that they could expect more. That you could be someone more confident. You moved to sit in the nearest seat.

It was January, the start of a new year. It was the perfect time to become someone new. You didn’t have much hope.

‘What’s that noise?’ Natasha asked suddenly. You flushed, trying to be subtle as you turned down the volume on your headphones.

Steve’s head turned obediently as he surveyed the room.

‘I don’t hear anything.’

You pretended to focus on the laptop in front of you, wishing you could sink into the sofa cushions.

‘Y/N?’ Steve called, and your heart sank. ‘Did you hear anything?’

You opened your mouth feeling put on the spot. Nerves bubbled up horribly.

Natasha interrupted.

‘Don’t worry Steve, I must have imagined it.’

Her gaze met yours knowingly and you could tell that she had guessed that you were the source of the sound. She gave you an encouraging smile before returning to her plate of pasta.

You still felt mortified. Your cheeks burned as you turned the song off all together.

Natasha could hear a thumping noise. Erratic and varying in volume. It definitely wasn’t music. It didn’t sound dangerous, just strange.

She followed the noise instinctively, moving along the hallways of the Compound as the strange rhythm continued.

She stopped in front of your room. You’d left the door wide open. You had your headphones on. Chunky purple ones that made Natasha smile every time she saw you wearing them. Now she was closer, she could hear a small tinny noise that must be the music playing inside them.

That wasn’t the sound that had brought her here.

Natasha watched as you bounced mindlessly from your bed to the ground, twirling and skipping from one end of the room to the other. Your arms moved dramatically in the near silence. Your eyes were scrunched closed and you were mouthing along to your own silent disco.

Natasha leaned against the doorway with her arms folded. Her head tilted as she watched.

You turned at last towards the doorway, opening your eyes as you mimed the final part of the song. You froze in place. Your eyes widened with panic. You whipped the headphones from your ears, letting them hang around your neck.

Natasha could hear the music louder now but she still couldn’t figure out the song.

When you met her eyes, clearly mortified. Natasha gave you a gentle smirk.

‘I loved the performance.’ She promised you.

You couldn’t think what to say. You never could, not in front of her.

You covered your face briefly instead, indicating your embarrassment.

Natasha took a few steps forward, she touched your shoulder and you felt yourself go still with anticipation.

‘If I leave now.’ She assured, eyes still sparkling with a warmth meant for you. ‘Will you promise not to stop?’

You nodded obediently, wondering if she could hear the sound of your favourite song ending and starting again from around your neck.

Natasha looked pleased. She gave you a thumbs up just before she left the room. Embarrassingly, mortifyingly, you copied the action. Her small laugh matched her soft smile.

You waited ten seconds and silently hurried to shut the door.

Then, you slipped your headphones back on, pressed your forehead against the wood and smiled harder than ever before.

The team was celebrating. It was only surviving the scariest missions that earned a group dinner out at a restaurant. Natasha had explained the tradition to you on the quinjet flight back to the Compound.

This time it had been Natasha’s choice. She’d picked a Pho place that the others were excited by. You followed along with your usual quietness, happy just to be included.

The song was playing. Your song was playing.

You tried not to smile automatically, instead you kept your head down as you focused on your noodles.

‘Oh god. Is this even music?’ Natasha commented dryly. The group laughed.

You tried not to flinch as a strange hope inside you started to deflate.

‘Who knows? I never understand modern music.’ Steve added half jokingly.

You watched Tony roll his eyes.

‘This isn’t modern music’ He corrected. ‘It’s just modern noise.’

Embarrassingly, you felt your eyes well up with tears. You’d been trying to be braver, more yourself around the others. You felt stupid. You were suddenly grateful that you’d always played your music with headphones.

You kept your head down, letting the conversation around you move onto other things.

When you finally had the courage to glance up, Natasha was already looking at you. Her eyes were full of silent apology.

You dropped your stare back down to your empty plate, filled with miserable embarrassment.

Natasha was moving back and forth in the kitchen. This was not her usual style. Her hand rubbed her neck absentmindedly. This wasn’t her style either.

You paused unsurely and worried if she was okay.

Typically, you only came into the common areas when you had your headphones on. It had been an easy way to reassure yourself. No one expected you to talk with them on. But, after the meal yesterday, you couldn’t find the courage to put them on. It would be too embarrassing if someone heard the music you liked to play.

You took a step into the kitchen, hoping to get away with a polite smile and your container from the fridge with leftovers in it.

Natasha turned immediately as you approached. You froze in place automatically. She smiled brightly at you, nervous but excited. You didn’t know what to do. You waited for her to speak, to give you some kind of direction.

Natasha’s head tilted and for a moment you could see her thinking. Carefully, with an assessing stare, she tucked her hair behind her ears.

The wireless earpods revealed themselves.

For a moment, you were too distracted by the glittering ear piercings that surrounded them. Natasha noticed your attention and her hand absentmindedly rubbed her neck again. You realised that the gesture was her way of being shy.

You gave her a small smile and Natasha beamed.

She tilted her head again as she took out one of the earpods. Slowly, she offered it to you on her palm. You picked it up, understanding the silent cue. You held it to your ear and heard your favourite song playing loudly. Your small laugh was automatic. Natasha grinned victoriously. You offered her the earpod back and she took it.

Then, Natasha nodded her head towards the door. You understood her cue again, following her as she led you out of the main Compound building and into the garage. You watched silently as she unlocked a car that must be hers.

You observed the vehicle interestedly. It was jet black, sleek and expensive looking. It was intimidating. You glanced over at Natasha with her shining ear piercings and leather jacket. She gave you a soft smile and your heart raced instinctively. She opened her car door and nodded for you to do the same with yours.

You opened the opposite door and slid obediently into the leather seat. Your fingers tangled and untangled themselves in your lap as nervousness overwhelmed you slightly. After a moment, you looked over to Natasha.

She cleared her throat.

‘I thought maybe we could go somewhere and get lunch?’ She offered simply.

You bit your lip. Indecision warred on your face and Natasha looked suddenly deflated. You hesitated before you spoke at last.

‘You don’t have to be nice to me. Just because of yesterday. I’m not upset with you.’

You tried to smile reassuringly.

Natasha’s mouth twitched as she hid her own secret smile. It was the first time you'd talked to her directly. She hadn’t realised it at first. You’d been so quiet, trying to fade into the background of every moment.

She hadn’t realised and then she hadn’t been able to see anything else.

Even your smallest smiles made your eyes sparkle.

‘I really do want to go to lunch with you.’ Natasha answered you simply. ‘If that’s what you want.’

She watched your fingers untangle themselves decisively.

‘I do.’ You smiled nervously. Your eyes sparkled.

As she drove out of the garage, Natasha half-turned to face you again.

‘I did end up really liking that song, you know.’ She said carefully. ‘After yesterday, it got stuck in my head. It’s been playing on a loop in there ever since.’ You watched her tap her forehead.

She glanced back to you unsurely. You knew she was still hesitant because of yesterday. You braced yourself automatically.

‘It’s really okay.’ You tried to reassure her again, not quite believing her words.

Natasha’s brow furrowed quickly and she looked like she was thinking hard. She chewed her lower lip and then she looked down to the music system installed in her car.

Her fingers moved suddenly as she pressed various features on the touchscreen. Your stomach squeezed uncomfortably. You didn’t want her to play it now, just to try and prove a point.

A different song began to play.

Your mouth twisted in automatic distaste at the sound.

Natasha laughed.

‘This is my favourite song.’ She told you, clearly pleased by your expression. You covered your face embarrassedly for a moment and Natasha laughed again.

‘You have to give it a chance.’ She said, her voice deepening slightly as her tone walked the line of playful and serious. ‘Some things get better the more time you give them.’

Your breath hitched and you nodded. Natasha turned to focus properly on the road ahead. You watched her mouth along to the lyrics.

She was right. By the time the song was nearly over, you were starting to like it.

You watched Natasha’s fingers move back to the touch screen, ready to switch the music to something else.

Without thinking, you touched her hand with your own.

Natasha froze at your touch.

‘Can I hear it again?’ You asked shyly.

Natasha beamed.

Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine

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briefinquiries · 8 months ago

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Tyler Owens x Reader: The Storm Inside Your Mind

Request: Anonymous said: "tyler x reader with panic attacks"

Word count: 2k

Warnings: panic attack tw

A/N: obviously stole some of Kate's trauma for this one... I feel like I've written a few fics where reader has panic attacks now, so sorry if this sounds repetitive at all. But as always, thank you all for the kind words, replies, and comments on my work. It's super encouraging and very appreciated!!

The team isn’t chasing today. Instead, you set up the RV and some tents at a campsite, hoping to enjoy what little time you had left of tornado season.

Tyler gets a fire going while Boone and Dexter drag the camp chairs around it. There’s only half an hour or so left of daylight, and the crew decides s’mores will do just fine for dinner.

Boone makes a joke about s’mores meeting all his nutritional food group needs, everyone laughs. Tyler settles into the chair beside you, his knee gently grazing against yours to catch your attention.

When you look at him, he winks. A silent toss of affection. A sweet reminder that it’s you and him, even amongst the chaos of all your friends.

The sun sets, casting a thousand shades of pinks and purples through the sky. It’s mesmerizing– the evening is perfect.

It’s amazing how quickly things can fall apart.

All it takes is one note–

Dani grabs their guitar and begins strumming softly to no tune in particular. Then Boone shouts out a song request that makes your breath catch. You try to be subtle, but you notice Tyler’s eyes lingering on you, because he can read you just as well as he can read any storm.

You offer him the best, most reassuring smile that you can– and it must be good enough, because he looks back towards the fire.

You pick at the skin around your nails, because it’s always been a good distraction. But even that isn’t enough when Dani plays the first note–

“Took my love and I took it down,” they sing softly.

And then suddenly, you can’t breathe. All you can hear is your best friend asking you to turn up the volume to her favorite song when it had come on the radio only minutes before everything had gone so, so wrong.

Normally, you can talk yourself down from these moments, you can practice all the grounding exercises your therapist taught you and move on. But you feel the sense of panic creeping up your throat and it’s strong and fast. You don’t think you can deep breathe your way out of this one without anyone noticing.

In a rush, you stand up from your camp chair and mumble something incoherent about needing to go. It’s not very subtle, but it’s all you can manage before stumbling into the RV– aiming for the bathroom.

Tyler calls your name, but all you hear is the sound of your friend screaming it over the increasing winds as they reached for you.

From there it only gets worse–

It comes in waves– memories of Fleetwood Mac still playing from the radio while you sat in the car and frantically tried to decide which way to run– the realization that no matter where you went, the tornado was going to consume you– knowing that the overpass was the worst place to go, but your alternative was remaining out in the open. Your name tumbling from your friend's lips as she begged you to help pull her up the ramp because her shoes kept slipping. The sound of her scream when the chunk of debris sent her flying into the storm. You losing sight of her body after only a second–

The bathroom door rattles. “Y/N?” Tyler calls with a knock. “What happened?”

“What happened?” your friend’s dad had asked with tears spilling down his cheeks after the officer told them that their daughter was dead. “What the hell happened?”

“There’s no storm,” you whisper to yourself. “The skies are clear– there’s no storm.”

Tyler calls your name a second time and knocks harder– the door rattles. You grip the edge of the sink and bite down harshly on your lip to keep yourself from screaming. Because despite the calm conditions outside, the storm inside your mind is here– it’s rattling the door and shaking the RV– it’s creating dark clouds, and causing them swirling around in every corner of your body– winds are flying through your stomach and your chest, the air is heavy, it’s harder to breathe–

You put your hands over your ears and sink to the floor helplessly.

“Y/N, answer me,” Tyler’s panicked– you can hear it in his voice. “I swear to God, I’m gonna kick this door down–”

You try to inhale– to tell him not to do that– that repairing a door will be expensive. But instead of finding your words, all you can do is choke out a desperate sob. The storm has stolen all your air– it’s sucked it right from your lungs…

Before you can try again, the entire bathroom shakes when the hinges on the door break loose with a bang. Tyler’s eyes land on you– huddled on the floor, gasping for the breath you can’t find.

Except– it’s not Tyler. It’s your friend’s dad. He’s come to get you– to kill you like you killed his daughter.

You attempt to push yourself backwards on the floor, but the bathroom is small and soon, you've only managed to wedge yourself between the toilet and the wall. You try to speak again– to tell him how sorry you are for getting his daughter killed– but you can’t. Clutching desperately at your chest, you heave and heave, squeezing your eyes shut.

The storm inside your mind causes the clouds to start swirling around chaotically–

The storm inside your mind rips trees right from the roots–

The storm inside your mind destroys everything in its path–

“Baby–” a familiar warm voice cuts through the fog. And then, suddenly, someone grips your knee, causing your entire body to seize.

“It’s me,” a gentle voice murmurs. "Hey, it’s me.“

Through your foggy haze, you recognize Tyler’s touch– and when you open your eyes, you see him squatting down to get on your level.

But your knees– you open your mouth to say, except all that comes out is a gasp– a plea for help.

“Okay, it’s okay. Look at me, baby,” he says. “It’s okay– you’re okay.”

“I– can’t–” you gasp, your own hands flying up to grip his forearms for some sort of lifeline to reality. “I can’t– breathe–”

“Okay, okay, okay,” he says. He’s trying to stay calm, but you can hear the uneasiness in his voice. “With me.”

He gives a deep, methodical inhale before letting out a slow, intentional exhale. “Just do it with me. Slow, like this.”

He continues, and you try to match his pace– to breathe with him, but it feels like the storm has stolen your lungs– ripped them right out of your chest–

“Tyler–” you beg, your voice hoarse. “I can’t–”

“C’mon, with me,” he repeats earnestly. He’s looking at you with terror in his eyes, but you find comfort in their familiarity just the same. “We’ve done this before, you know how to do this.”

“I– I–” you stammer, but the words won’t form.

“Shh, with me. Everything’s okay. I’m here. We’re both okay,” he assures you. His gaze is just so tender and soft and careful while his thumb grazes your cheek.

“I- I can’t-” you choke again, “Please–”

“Shh-” he soothes. “Look at me, nothing else, just me.”

Your wide, desperate eyes meet his. You don’t say anything, just shudder and gasp frantically.

“With me,” he repeats.

Tyler slow and calming, in and out breathes. After a few seconds, you latch onto the sound, mimicking it, and then finally follow along.

“There you go,” he whispers.

Your facial features slowly start to relax as you’re able to breathe properly. Without your loud, choking sobs, you’re able to hear your heartbeat pounding in your chest frantically.

“Good job,” Tyler sighs. “Look, it’s just you and me, we’re okay, we're both safe–”

But he can’t even finish his sentence before you lean forward and reach for him. Tyler takes advantage of your gesture and quickly grips under your arms, yanking you from the corner and pulling you forward. He sits back on the floor, back resting against the door frame while he rests you on his lap. As soon as he’s settled, you wind your arms around his neck– desperate and longing for some sort of comfort.

Strong, sturdy arms wrap around you as you hide your face into his chest. You breathe him in, letting his familiar scent wash over you. The sound of his heartbeat races in your ear (bum, bum, bum, bum). It reminds you that you’re both here– right now. Not stuck in an underpass, not chasing a tornado. But here– on the floor in the RV bathroom.

“It’s okay,” Tyler soothes. Upon feeling your shaky body pressed against his, he squeezes tighter. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here, I got you.”

You melt against him in response, bunching the fabric of his shirt into your fist, trying to communicate just how badly you need him to hold you right now.

And that’s exactly what he does— until you can finally breathe on your own again.

And then the wave of guilt comes.

Suddenly the realization of everything hit you– what a basketcase you’ve been, running off like that, having a meltdown in front of everyone– you probably scared the shit out of them. And then there’s the door– broken right from the hinges.

Slowly, you pull back.

“Are you okay?” Tyler says before you can even open your mouth. He brushes the strands of loose hair from your face.

You exhale a deep, shuddering breath that you can feel down your entire body. “I’m okay,” you say, your voice raw.

“Baby, you don’t have to run from me when you’re having a panic attack. I’m here for you, you know that.”

“I know,” you whimper. “I know– I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to freak out–”

“Shh. Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay,” Tyler says. “You don’t have to apologize. I just– I want you to come to me when you’re struggling. I want to be able to help you.”

“I just—” you start, but you stop when you notice how choked up your voice sounds. You take a slow breath. “I can't think clearly when they come. All I could think about was getting away. I didn't want to scare you– I wanted to prove to you that I was doing better– that I wasn’t going to freak out all the time. But it–”

As soon as you feel the tears burning behind your eyes, you dig the heels of your palms into them frustratedly, like you were physically trying to push them away.

“It was the music. That was her favorite song.” You didn’t even have to say your friend’s name for Tyler to know what you were talking about. “I just… I heard that first note and I panicked– I just felt like I had to get away.”

Tyler nodded in understanding. “You don’t have to hide from me,” he whispered. “Next time, you drag me to the bathroom with you and we’ll get through it together, okay? I think that’ll save us many doors in the future.”

You exhale a puff of air, your best attempt at laughter.

“I’m just sorry you have to deal with me all the time. You have enough on your plate,” you groan, rubbing your tired eyes.

Tyler sighs. “Baby, I drive around and chase tornadoes– shoot some fireworks into the air when I’m really feelin’ it. I think I can handle being there for you on top of that,” he says. “I love you. And I want you to be okay, always. That’s all I’ll ever want.”

Nodding slowly, you lean forward and rest your forehead on Tyler’s chest.

Strong, warm arms anchor you to safety. You hold on to Tyler– letting the sound of his heartbeat (bum, bum, bum, bum) block out any noise from the raging storms inside your mind.

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens fic #tyler owens x reader fic #tyler owens x reader imagine #tyler owens #twister imagine #twister fic #twister x reader

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lostinlovingrevery · 2 months ago

Text

Loveuary Challenge! - I Think I Love You

Worst! Logan X F! Reader

A/N: Here's my entry for @yxtkiwiyxt and @lubdubology's Loveuary Challenge! I picked Worst Logan cause he's my boo rn <3, also I sorta but not really based it off the song "I Think I love You" by the Partridge Family! It just been stuck in my head!

Plot: Logan has a crush on the florist in the neighborhood...

Warnings: SMUT, and fluff :), MDNI, PiV sex, Logan being an anxious baby girl, Wade being a nuisance, a lil angst cause of Logan self-loathing

Word Count: 5650

Logan stared at the door of the apartment building, his hands felt shaky, and his stomach turned. He felt like all the adamantium that had merged into his bones had melted and pooled into his feet, keeping him from stepping outside.

The Wolverine, the toughest son of a bitch out there

Frozen in place because he’s nervous to talk to a woman.

Pathetic.

He swears he could hear Wade right now, taunting him, calling him names.

“Whiskey dick, whiskey dick, whiskey dick-OW!”

He turned his head, annoyance clear on his face, shoving his hand in Wade's face which had become annoyingly close to his, and pushed him away. Apparently, he zoned out in his anxiety-ridden panic so much he didn’t notice Wade stalking him. “Shut the hell up.” He growled, shaking his head, turning back to the door. He took a deep breath, pushed the handle of the door and stepped outside in the cold February air.

He didn’t like the cold, but at least the fresh air seemed to help clear his head, as he shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way down the street, to you. He knew where you would be, as you are almost every day. He has your routine remembered down to the second - though hopefully you haven’t noticed that.

The colorful florist shop came into view quickly, seeing it was only right down the street from the apartment Logan was hopefully temporarily residing in. He caught sight of you, wonderful, lovely, gorgeous you, and his heart started beating faster.

He met you pretty quickly after he regrettably agreed to live with Wade until he could get on his feet. He’d been walking the block, the streets of the neighborhood every day to get familiar with them, and hopefully find a job. He bumped into you- well actually, he caught you.

You were up on a ladder, fixing the marquee sign of your shop, changing out the words of the previous promotion you were offering for your flowers, and putting up the new sale. Logan was watching you- you immediately caught his eye from the way the sunlight glowed around you. One misstep down the ladder and you nearly took a tumble to the concrete- but he stepped in and caught you in his arms, bridal-like in how he held you- like a true hero.

God, you were so sweet, so flustered. You thanked him a million times, and gave him some flowers as appreciation. A bouquet of Hyacinths. He felt silly as man to be taking flowers from someone…But he couldn’t say no to you, not with how you made over him, how your hand touched his arm, how you fixed the collar of his flannel and pressed your hand to his chest. That pretty smile, those gorgeous eyes….

He was smitten from then on.

Something drew him to you, every day. An urge to see your smile, to hear your voice. A strange comfort in a world that was similar to his but not-quite-his and it had put him on edge.

He came home that day he met you and Wade immediately knew what was up.

“Oh, I see you ran into a flower girl.” He grins, eyeing the bouquet in Logan's hand. Logan frowned, quaking a brow. “The lovely lady at the florist shop down the street, yes? She’s a good friend of mine. You recognize her in the picture?” Wade nods to the polaroid that was sitting in a frame, burnt and torn from the incident with the TVA, now carefully preserved. Logan glanced at it and recognized your smiling face.

“I just helped her out. “ Logan mutters, a shake of his head as he glances down at the pretty flowers you gave him.

“And she appreciated it so much that she gave you flowers?” Wade stood up. “So…I’m only going to ask this once and whatever you say, I’ll believe you! But…”

Logan waited in confusion, his irritation growing as silence went on.

“Whose ass do you prefer? Me or hers?”

That was about 6 months ago. Since then, he’s gotten to know you on his walks, running into you nearly every day- purely by coincidence of course - not because he had the pull to see you ever since he met you. Wade invites you to his parties, occasional dinners, and movie nights- sometimes you stop by with a homemade meal to drop off for them. He’s learned your favorite drink, your favorite snack, your favorite song, your favorite flower. Your favorite things. Ever since he’s been on these walks, your shop being on the path that he takes to his job, the dining room table of Wade and Althea’s apartment always has a vase of fresh flowers.

Logan felt for you a feeling he thought he didn’t have the capability to feel anymore.

Today was Valentine's day, and Logan was working the nerve up to finally ask you out. Wade had been pushing him to for months, always getting hit with a “shut the fuck up” from Logan, pretending as if he wasn’t interested, even though it was far from the truth.

Logan was terrified. Not just of asking you out, but of you saying yes.

Logan didn’t think highly of himself. He was dragged into this universe, forced to start over, in some ways a blessing but also a curse. While the Wolverine in this universe is regarded as a hero, he still remembers his old life, where he was regarded as a killer, a monster, a disgusting mutant. He knows of the blood on his hand, the mistakes he’s made, the people- people he loved- that he turned his back on.

You didn’t know this.

You were just such a lovely creature. You had a figure that made Logan want to drool like a dog, fisting himself nearly every night in the shower to the image of you. You were smart, open and welcoming, and extremely compassionate - and likely the only person truly patient enough to put up with Wades antics.

Logan didn’t feel like he deserved to have someone like you in his arms, in his life. Yet, with the constant nagging from Wade, and the flutters he gets from your smiles - he found himself giving in. He was going to attempt to ask you out today, Valentine's day, and hope that this doesn’t end in hellfire, like most things in his life.

He spotted you, outside your shop, preparing bouquets of roses, lilies, and other flowers he hadn’t really learned the name of yet. The sight of you took his breath away. You had on a pink t-shirt, tied in the front that hugged your waist, and high-waisted jeans- they fit around your tummy and thighs snuggly. When you turned around he had to gulp. Two large heart prints on the fabric of your jeans, over your butt.

He couldn’t help but hold a small smirk as he admired your ass from afar. It wasn’t till he got glared at by an old lady walking past that he realized he probably looked like a pervert. He cleared his throat, giving the lady a courteous yet awkward nod as he made his way over to you.

He reached you, and could barely make a word to you, you turned around, looking up in surprise at Logan.

“Oh! Hey Lo!” You smiled, eyes bright. “Happy Valentine’s day!”

He thought his heart was going to jump out of his chest. “Hey doll,” He greeted back. “Sell a lot of flowers already?”

“Yes, actually.” You smiled bigger. “It’s so cute, these people coming in here, buying flowers. I had this teenage boy come in a little bit ago, he was SO nervous, he was buying flowers for his first girlfriend.” You clasped your hands together, shaking your head, your hair bouncing with your movements. “So cute, young love. You remember your first crush?”

Not really, it was almost 150 years ago.

“Sure do.” Logan lies.

“Do you have any Valentine's plans? I heard Wade and Ness’ are going on a date!”

“Yeah,” Logan nodded. “I mean, no- no I don’t have any plans.” He stammers, “I just know about them going on a date. Wades all nervous about it.”

“He’s so cute.” You laugh, turning back to the bouquets and fixing them up a little bit. “So, you don’t have any plans?”

“No, not at the moment.” He says. Your eyes lingered on him for a moment, your expression looked like you wanted to say something, but then you bit your lip, and nodded, turning back to the roses.

Flowers, you need to give her flowers before you ask her out.

“I actually wanted to buy some flowers, bub.” He says finally, almost monotone- lacking any excitement in his voice.

“Really? What are you looking for?”

“Uh…” He glanced at the bouquets in the front. “I’ll look around.” He nodded to the shop, and you smiled a nod. He turned to go inside, but you called his name.

“You okay Lo?”

“Fine.” He forced a thin-lipped smile, before heading inside your shop, and you watched him with a suspicious squint. This was not the usual Logan you knew. He looked nervous as hell, he’s never acted like that before. An anxious thought hit you. He’s never bought flowers before- you gave him bouquets for free, it was your discreet way of flirting. What if he’s buying them for some other girl?

You tried to shake the thought out of your head, as you ended up going inside- the cold was biting your skin, and now you were nervous at the thought that some girl out there had caught Logan's attention before you could muster the courage to say something to him.

The inside of your shop was an absolute wonderland of plants. Not only did you sell flowers, but you sold houseplants, gardening tools, gardening decorations, and more. Seeing that it was Valentines, you had the place decorated with red and pink hearts, and bouquets were scattered all over- alongside decorative cards someone could pick up and hand write to their loved one.

He was staring at the cooler of flowers, that you could create individual bouquets with. He had several flowers picked out already, as he stared at them with concentration, completely focused on the task at hand.

You tried to busy yourself with your usual tasks as you leaned against the counter, but your eyes kept wandering to where he stood. You glanced up to his face and felt yourself swoon for a moment. He’s just so handsome.

When Wade first told you about the new roommate, whom he described as “Hugh Jackman is he was an alcoholic and had emotional constipation”, you just rolled your eyes and laughed- figuring he was up to his shenanigans. Then you met said roommate- the man literally caught you when you fell off a ladder the first time you met. How could you not form a crush on him?

He did strangely look like Hugh Jackman too...

Then you got to know him. You got to know of his temper, his smart mouth, and you saw how hard he tries every day, despite his past. He doesn’t know that you know about it, and that you know he’s a mutant. Wade spilt the beans accidentally over a few drinks where he ended up crying in your lap about Vanessa, and somehow ended up talking about Logan's problems too.

It didn’t change your view of him at all. Of course not. Sure it sounds a bit...violent. Logan wasn’t a perfect man, but neither were you. You were the kind of person who believed that everyone deserves second chances, and you fully believed this was Logan's second chance…

Logan huffed, staring at the flowers he picked out. Hyacinths, roses, something leafy that he doesn’t know the name of but smells incredibly good. He walked over to your register, catching sight of the bare skin of your midsection as your shirt rode up your body from leaning over.

“Pick something out?”

“Yeah..This looks alright?”

“It looks great.” You smiled, you took the bouquet, and began preparing them. “You want them wrapped, or in a vase?”

“Wrapping is fine.”

“Color?”

“Um…Pink.”

You nodded, and moved to start wrapping the bouquet, snipping the stems, and pulling some leaves off so the flowers would remain fresh. You hummed along to a song that played over the speakers in your shop - something Logan knew was your own personally crafted playlist. He faintly recognized the song, something he likely heard years and years ago.

This morning I woke up with this feeling

I didn't know how to deal with and so I just decided to myself

I'd hide it to myself and never talk about it

And did not go and shout it when you walked into the room

I think I love you (I think I love you)

I think I love you so what am I so afraid of

I'm afraid that I'm not sure of a love there is no cure for

I think I love you isn't that what life is made of

Though it worries me to say that I never felt this way

His eyes trailed over the curve of your face, as he thought about what it might feel like to press his lips along your jaw, leaving behind soft kisses and purple bruises as he showed you how he felt about you.

You finished wrapping the bouquet, and presented it to him proudly.

“There you go! Looks good?”

“Looks perfect.” He nods, flashing you a genuine smile that makes you blush. You moved to type the price into the registers. You informed him of the price and he pulled his wallet out, pulling out some cash and handed it to you.

“Thanks Lo…” You put the cash away, completing the sale. “So…Who’s the lucky one getting that bouquet? Or are you getting it for yourself?” You tease as you lean forward against the counter towards him. He looked at you blankly, then looked at the flowers.

You fucking idiot.

“Well,” He glanced at the bouquet, “It’s actually for you.” He says, handing it back to you over the counter. You stood up, surprise on your face. He felt himself flush, you have to think he was the biggest dumbass on Earth. Walking in here and buying flowers from you just to hand them back over? He wasn’t even thinking. That’s what you do to him, his brain goes fuzzy when you’re around. It’s not as if he wasn’t over 200 years old, and has done flirting and relationships more times than he can remember.

You slowly took the flowers, and he waited, but a huge grin grew on your face. You looked up at him through your lashes. “Logan?”

“Yeah bub?”

“You want to have dinner with me tonight?”

His mouth hung open, and he closed it, a thin-lipped smile, and he nodded. “Yeah..That’d be nice.”

You bit your lip, as you resisted the urge to wiggle your hips and dance from excitement. “Okay, how about 7 pm?”

“That’s good for me.”

“Okay, just buzz in when you’re here.” You smiled. Your apartment was upstairs, a very convenient location for you when you were looking for a place to open your shop a few years ago. He nodded, turning to leave, “And Lo? Thank you.” You add, cradling the flowers to your chest.

He smiled at you, before leaving the shop. You took a deep breath.

God he is so cute…

The next few hours were hell for Logan. He sat on the couch panicking over every possible situation that could happen tonight. Ranging everything from you laughing him out of your apartment to him somehow accidentally maiming you with his claws.

He reached out for the bottle of whiskey he pulled out the second he came back into the apartment, and then another horrifying thought came to his head.

Whiskey dick

He set the whiskey bottle down. It’s not like he was expecting anything to happen tonight, it was just dinner. It’s not the first time you had dinner together, but..If something were to happen, he couldn’t risk the idea that he wouldn’t be able to perform. Fuck, nothing would be more embarrassing then the idea of being able to get into your pants and he couldn’t even do anything. In fact, he hasn’t done anything in years and he really rather not think about that.

You were not much better. After you closed the shop at 4 o'clock- it had been an extremely busy day. Customers rushing in and out, men, women, mothers with children, a father with a newborn, an old man, a man in a business suit who had no idea what he was looking for, a group of teenagers, people who tugged you left and right for a custom bouquet, advice for flowers, even asking you to write love notes to their loved ones. Some of them are cute, others baffling you at how they managed to get a lover if this is the effort they only put in towards it.

Despite the chaos of the day, Logan lingered in your mind. Nerves shot through you as you realized that you had nothing planned when you asked Logan to come over for dinner.

You rushed upstairs to your apartment, rushing to shower, shave, moisturize- and figure out what the hell you were going to make Logan. Oh- and clean your apartment. Put on makeup. Figure out an outfit.

Didn’t think this through.

You check the time, 5:45. It’s okay. You have time.

You looked at the bouquet Logan had gotten you, and you smiled softly, carefully taking one of the flowers in your hand as you felt the petals. How adorable was he, the way he scrutinized every flower he picked out, and you were so worried that he was picking them out for someone else, and it was meant for you the entire time. The way he looked like a deer caught in headlights when he handed them back to you.

You've never seen him act like this before. Logan was always so…calm, if that’s the way to put it. He acted with a certain nonchalant grumpiness that didn’t make him an asshole but more like someone you could be comfortable with because he didn’t mind the silence and didn’t force the awkwardness. He’d get pissed at Wade- that was the worst you saw of his temper, albeit you’ve heard a few amusing stories from Wade over it. The Logan you saw today seemed like a schoolboy approaching his crush to ask to dance. Did you really make him that nervous?

You took forever picking out the dress, the perfect makeup, deciding how to style your hair, and you started cooking a tad late, and before you knew it you heard the familiar buzzing at your front door.

You walked up to your door, pressing the intercom button,

“Hello?”

“It’s Logan.”

“Come on in, apart 4-”

You hit the unlock button, hearing a clicking across the intercom, as you let go and go back to the kitchen to check on your food for the moment. A knock at your door and you quickly ran over to open it.

Logan stood there, adorning a nice t-shirt, flannel, and jeans. He held a bottle of wine in one hand, a hand in his pockets. He blinked as his eyes raked over your figure.

“Wow.” He breathed out, a small smirk appeared on his face. “All this for me?”

You blushed, biting your lips, “Come in.” You moved out of the doorway to allow him space. He stepped in, brushed past you, not taking his eyes off you.

“I brought some wine- It’s the kind you like, right?” He held up the bottle and you smiled, taking it and nodded for confirmation.

“It is! Thank you.” You say, “Dinners running a little late by the way…Hope you’re not too hungry yet.”

“Need help?”

You eyed him cautiously, “Didn’t Wade say you almost set the apartment on fire trying to cook?”

“No. That was him, asshole just blamed it on me.” Logan scoffed, shaking his head. You chuckled, leading him to the kitchen. He was greeted by the fresh aroma of seasoned veggies, and steak simmering in a pan. “Smells great.” He says warmly, his eyes taking over your back.

God you looked good.

He had been so nervous, but then you opened the door. Standing there, all gussied up and it felt like he could breathe. A stroke of confidence ran through him, and suddenly he didn’t know why he had been so…Nervous.

It was you. Sweet, wonderful you. Who always knew how to calm him down with a simple touch of your hand, how you always asked how he was doing but never pushed him to talk about anything he didn’t want to. You, who greeted him happily every single day as if you didn’t know he was going to show up, with that sparkle in your eyes that made him think you saw something in him he didn’t know existed.

How’d that song go again?

I think I love you, so what am I so afraid of

I'm afraid that I'm not sure of a love there is no cure for

I think I love you isn't that what life is made of

Though it worries me to say that I never felt this way

His eyes landed on your thighs, where the hem of your dress ended just above your mid-thigh. Your skin just looked plush and soft and fuck he wanted to bite you.

“Thanks! Could you wash those potatoes and cut them up for me?” You asked, turning your head to glance at him. You saw his eyes snap up to yours at the last second.

“Sure bub.” He nods, moving to the counter next to you, he grabs the sack of potatoes already lying out, pulling a few out and bringing them to the second where he washed them under the faucet, before placing them on the cutting board already set out. He reached out and grabbed a knife from the placeholder and set to dice them. You watched him for a moment and it slipped out.

“Do you ever use the claws to do that?”

He stopped, completely frozen, before his eyes turned to look at you and you realize you messed up.

“Cause..I…Figured that…Would be…more…convenient…” Your voice got quieter under his stare. “Wade…Told me. A while ago. To be honest though I assumed, even if you guys didn’t say anything, you both acted weird about how you came here and stuff.”

He sighs, his nostrils flaring as he shakes his head turning back to start dicing the potatoes again, anger evident in the way the knife slammed into the cutting board.

“It doesn’t bother me.” You say softly. His face relaxed, and he looked at you again. You brought a hand up to his bicep. “I think you’re great Logan.”

You saw his shoulders relax. He put down the knife, and he turned to face you. “You sure?” He asked, and you could see the vulnerability in his eyes. “There’s still things you don’t know about me.”

“I actually think I do.” You squeezed his shoulder, stepping closer. “I’m sorry, for everything that happened to you.”

He pursed his lips together. “I’m not a good guy bub.”

“You’re trying though.” You say. “That’s the only thing that matters.”

He let out a small breath, as he leaned forward and quickly captured your lips in a kiss. He was soft, gentle about the way he kissed you- trying to give you space to pull away, but your hands slid into his hair, and pulled him closer. He placed his hands on your hips, pulling you against him.

Parting with a harsh gasp, slowly opening your eyes, to still him in a similar state as you. Flushed, panting, with swollen lips.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” He says.

You shook your head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when I found out.”

“How long?”

You bit your lip, “Few months.”

He let out a sigh. “You really knew all that time…And didn’t think less of me?”

“Of course not.” You reassure, your eyes glancing down at his lips. You looked back up at him. “I like you…A lot Logan.”

He smiled, tugging your closer, lowering his head against yours. “Yeah bub? Think I like you a lot too.”

Your hands moved down to the collar of his shirt. “Why don’t you show me?” You whisper.

“Really?” He chuckled. “What about dinner?”

“That can wait. Show me.”

He wasted no time in capturing your lips in a searing kiss, your arms rested on his shoulders, as his hands gripped your hips and tugged you closer, leaning into you. Your lips moved together with a fervent passion, and he licked across your bottom lip, as you allowed him inside, moaning the moment you felt his tongue lick into your mouth.

His hands moved down your hips, over the curve of your ass, and he squeezed- letting out a soft breath at the feeling of you and the way his hands covered you. He leaned down, encouraging you to jump as his hands went to your thighs and he picked you up, carrying you into the living room.

He placed you gently over the couch, one hand braced by your head, the other still resting on your hip, as he kept himself located between your thighs. He pecked your lips a few times before moving down to kiss your neck, his lips brushing over your pulse point, you sighed contently at his touch.

He brought his hand down, realizing that he’d become a tad shaky as he pushed it underneath the skirt of your dress, and began moving up your thigh.

“This okay?” He mutters as he kisses along your collarbone.

“Mhm.” He felt you nod, and his fingertips made contact with your panties- they were lacey, he could feel as he brushed over them and he let out a shaky breath. “You’re so beautiful darling-” He mutters, nuzzling into your neck and sucking at your pulse point.

You let out a soft moan, which spurred him on as his fingers flit under the hem of your panties, reaching your soaking wet core. Your hands came to his shoulders, gripping his flannel tightly.

“You alright?”

“Mhm.” You nodded again, squeezing your eyes shut and biting your lip. He lifted his head up, watching your reaction as he delved his fingers into your warm wet folds. “Oh-” You breathed. He had to swallow back his moan at the feeling of you- so wet for him already. Have you been needy for him for a long? He’d have to make it up to you.

His fingers stroked back and forth in your folds, before he found your clit, softly pressing against it, making your hips jump. He nuzzled against your face, hearing the sound of your heart pounding. He understood, his heart was pounding too. He began running circles over your bud, listening and watching for your reaction that showed him what you liked.

“Logan-” You whined.

“Yeah bub?”

“I need you.”

Oh fuck.

“Please?”

He let out a shaky breath as he lifted his head to look down at you. “You sure?”

You opened your eyes and nodded. Biting your lip and you look up at him pleadingly.

Normally, he’d like to take his time. Open you up, get a taste, and hear those sweet moans escape your lips. He’s not sure if he’s going to last long- the way you’re looking at him right now made him want to cum right then and there.

He captured you in another heated kiss, adjusting himself, his hands came to your panties and pulled them off you. The sweet smell of your arousal haunting his senses and making his mind go blank. His hands came up and quickly undid his belt and pants, pushing his jeans down, his hard cock popping out- thick and swollen, pre cum oozing at the tip and making your mouth water. He was huge, bigger than any man you’ve seen. You’re wondering if maybe you should have let him finger your- but then again, the idea of him fucking you open created a fresh gush of wetness between your legs.

He started to adjust himself, then stopped.

“I don’t have a condom.” He says blinking up at you.

“That’s okay. I’m on the pill.” You say shyly with a shrug.

He groaned. “I think I love you, bub.”

You giggled at that, not realizing how much honesty was behind his words.

He leaned down and pecked your lips again, before leaning his forehead against yours and angling himself against your wet pussy, finding your hole and circling his tip around it, lubing you with his pre-cum.

You gasped the moment you felt his tip push inside, and your legs shook from the pressure of him stretching you open. He waited a moment, before moving deeper inside you, inching slowly and carefully, watching for any sign of your discomfort.

You on the other hand? Was on cloud 9. You tipped your head back, mouth hanging open, eyes rolled back. You would often use your fingers to fuck yourself, imagining it was him- but your fingers were nothing compared to him.

He bottomed out inside you, resting there, as he felt your walls constrict around him.

Don’tcumdon’tcumdon’tcumdon’tcum

He begged his mind as he went into a haze over how good you felt with you spread on his cock. He should have made a move sooner, fuck he should have asked you out the second he caught you off that ladder. He knows one thing for sure, that he wasn’t letting you go at all. You’ll be lucky if he even lets you out of his sight at this point- much less this apartment. Already making plans in all the ways he’s going to fuck you.

“Logan-” You whined. “I- I need you to move.”

He took a deep breath, and he slowly pulled out, before thrusting back inside. A small hiccup escaped you, and he did it again. He pressed his hands onto the cushions of the couch. One leg braced against the floor, the other bent and resting against the cushion. He thrusted his hips again, as he felt you begin to open up, and moved his pace to go faster.

He fucked into you at a steady pace, his lips finding purchase on your neck again as he sucked bruises onto your skin, giving him something to focus on because he thought he was going to blow any second, your whines and cries filling his ears.

He sat up, looking down over you, his mouth hung open and eyes heavy-lidded as he panted, maintaining his pace. He moved to grab the hem of your dress and pushed it up your belly.

Fuck fuck fuck!

He watched himself fuck into your, the way you pussy sucked him in greedily with each thrust, your arousal coating his cock and your thighs.

“You feel so fucking good doll-” He moaned, he started getting faster, his fingers finding your clit again, and began rubbing. “I’m gonna need you to cum baby.”

“Logan-” You whined, grabbing his arms, your nails digging into the skin of his forearms as you stared up at him with wide, pleading eyes and parted lips.

“C’mon, I know you can do it sweetheart. Cum for me.”

Your body trembled, as his fingers moved faster against your clit, he angled himself to thrust upwards into you, and that thin thread finally snapped. You stared into his eyes as your cunt clenched and tightened over him. Relief washed over you as wave after wave of your orgasm passed, Logan fucking you through it and finally cumming himself.

He slammed into you, his body falling over yours, with a shout of your name, as he filled you up with ropes of his cum. He was panting harshly, and your arms wrapped around him, as you turned your head to seek out his lips. He pressed an eager kiss back to you, bringing his arms to carefully hold onto you while you both laid there in post-orgasmic haze. His head resting next to yours, your hand softly scratching his back.

“Lo?”

“Hm?”

“Can I see the claws?”

There was a moment of silence, and he brought his fist up, safely away from your face as he let his claws out.

Snikt!

You gasped, eyes wide in delight as you observed the metal appendages that came out of his fist, the way they shined against the light of your living room. “Wow!” You exclaimed. “You know that would be nice for pruning.”

Logan chuckled, “Really? You think?”

“Yeah!” You grinned looking at him, admiring his smile, and the flush of his cheeks.

“Are you hiring?”

You giggled, moving to kiss him again, you moved to wrap your arms around him and you heard the claws retract as his arms wrapped back around you, his arms pulling you into a warm embrace that felt nothing but safe in his arms.

Logan thought back to that song again, as he felt your lips against his, your hands tugging him closer.

I think I love you isn't that what life is made of

Though it worries me to say I never felt this way

Believe me you really don't have to worry

I only wanna make you happy and if you say "hey go away" I will

But I think better still I'd better stay around and love you

Do you think I have a case let me ask you to your face

Do you think you love me?

#klloveuary2025 #wolverine #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #logan howlett fic #vans daydreams #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut

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lunasdream · 10 days ago

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baby i'm-a want you / jack abbot

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃ℊ𝓈: jack abbot x f! reader

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: literally a story about one pining man who prefers to work the night shift until he doesn’t.

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃ℊ𝓈: implied age gap (10-15 years?), slight injuries, being drunk, talks of broken legs but not explicit

𝒜𝓊𝓉𝒽ℴ𝓇’𝓈 𝒩ℴ𝓉ℯ: i haven’t written anything in years and have not been on this blog for years omg! i am absolutely in love with the pitt and jack abbot, it’s not perfect but i hope you enjoy! <3 title comes from a bread song! okay bye!

𝒲𝒸: 3.4k

You actually loved where you worked–honestly you did. Most of the people were great (a few questionable characters, sure, but that's life), and having your cousin Mateo around the place felt less like a hospital and more like a second home. He thrived in the chaos of the ER, always buzzing with adrenaline, while you preferred the quieter corners as a clinical psychologist–less blood, more brain. It was a good balance. Still, you always told yourself one thing: as much as you cared about the hospital, you never wanted to come back unless it was for work. No visits, no check-ins, no surprise emergencies. Just you, your badge, and maybe—just maybe—a good cup of hospital tea if you got lucky.

What began as a carefree evening—a glittering blur of laughter, cocktails, and the kind of reckless joy only found on warm nights and crowded sidewalks–quickly devolved into an impromptu trip to the emergency room. You were both kind of inebriated, the haze of alcohol still clinging to your senses, dressed in clothes that belonged to a different kind of night–ones meant for dim lighting and loud music, not the cold scrutiny of a hospital corridor.

It wasn’t fate that intervened–just a cracked piece of sidewalk and the kind of bad luck that shows up without warning. One wrong step, a shift in balance, and your best friend hit the ground hard, clutching her ankle with the quiet disbelief of someone realizing the night had taken a turn you wouldn’t laugh about just yet. You tried to break her fall, but all you managed to do was cushion it—her weight crashing into you, the impact leaving scratches along your arms and hands as she landed against you with a sharp grunt.

“Fuck—we have to call an ambulance,” you said, panic and tequila swirling your voice.

She squinted up at you, mascara slightly smudged, pain masking her indignation.

“Please just call an Uber. I refuse to make a scene.”

As much as you wanted to spare her the embarrassment–and the inevitable bill–you knew an Uber wasn’t the answer, not unless you were willing to sit there, waiting for what felt like an eternity. So, with little choice, the ambulance became the only option left. Everything after that blurred into a haze—the blaring sirens of the ambulance echoing in your ears, drowning out everything else. Between the worry for your best friend and the fog of alcohol still lingering in your system, the ride to the hospital became a memory you could hardly grasp.

That ambulance ride felt like it would never end—comforting your friend, trying to keep it together while drunk, doing your best not to look suspicious. You even had to pretend the scratches on your arm didn’t hurt, like they weren't stinging the whole time. It might've been the hardest thing you’ve ever pulled off. By the time you got to the hospital, all you could do was hope no one made a big deal out of it.

As if on cue, the ambulance doors swung open, revealing Dr. Elis and Dr. Shen, standing in the cool, sterile light, their faces a study in practiced calm. With the precision of seasoned professionals, they held their ground, eyes scanning for any sign of chaos, ready to face whatever urgent situation was about to unfold. They almost didn't notice you because of how focused they were.

They faltered for just a moment, their minds clearly racing through the worst-case scenarios, until the paramedics spoke up—’suspected broken leg’ for your friend. That was enough to ground them, the weight of their tension lifting as they recalibrated, ready to handle whatever came next.

Ellis smirks, glancing over at you. ‘You know, you don’t have to break any legs to come see us,’ she remarks, while Shen immediately goes and helps your friend. He comments, “Hmm no bone sticking out, bummer.”

You giggle as she helps you down the ambulance, her knowing glance telling you she could tell you were drunk just by the way you stumbled down. You almost forgot about the cuts on your arm until she noticed, her fingers brushing over them gently, a soft reminder of what you’d almost ignored. She gave you a look that said, clear as day, ‘You really thought I wouldn’t notice’—half amused, half concerned, and totally calling you out without a single word.

A while later, you’re with your best friend—she’s a little out of it from the pain medication and you’re half-laying on the edge of her hospital bed, just grateful it was only a broken leg and nothing more serious. You’d sobered up by now—sleepy, a bit delirious, but still in good spirits. Mostly hungry, and for some reason, all you could think about were those raspberry cookies from the vending machine.

On the other side of the emergency room, word about you and your friend has quietly made the rounds—shared in hushed tones behind desks and passed along with knowing glances, as if the entire first floor was on something unspoken.

Although they’d never admit it, most people in the ED had a quiet appreciation for the drama that occasionally unfolded around them. Silly moments were something to look forward to—brief flashes of levity in a place that demanded strength, focus, and more patience than most people realized. The ED wasn’t for the faint of heart. And while the day shift kept things running like a well-practiced routine, the night shift operated in its own rhythm—slower, weirder, a little rough around the edges, but deeply loyal in their own way.

So you can imagine the quiet buzz of excitement when they saw you walk in—guided to a room by Dr. Ellis, dressed not in your usual work attire but in a fitted dress and delicate kitten heels that were clearly more designer than practical, looking every bit put-together even if you didn’t quite feel it. Your shifts usually landed in the middle of the day, often stretching a little later than scheduled—which meant you occasionally caught glimpses of both the day and night shift dynamics.

It was rare to be called down to the ED just for your help—usually they sent patients up to you.

The main reason you ever made your way down there was to see your cousin, even if it was just for a second.

You were well-liked around the hospital, having built a solid reputation for yourself. As a young psychologist—something of a prodigy in school—you stood out, not just for your skill but for your warmth. You treated your patients, colleagues, and everyone you meet with genuine kindness. Your smile brought a little light to the hospital's sterile halls, and your laugh had a way of softening even the toughest days. You loved chatting with coworkers, always curious about the little things that went on behind the scenes.

So of course it wasn’t much of a surprise that you crossed paths with Jack Abbot—the night shift attending—during your occasional visits to the ED. You found him endearing—his dry humor didn’t always land with others, but it never failed to make you smile. You’d given him that familiar look of quiet amusement, the kind that made it clear you were paying attention—and that you appreciated the way his mind worked.

You weren't naive—you knew you turned heads. You’re gorgeous and people naturally looked when you walked into a room. Over time, you’d gotten pretty good at spotting the signs—who had a crush, who was trying not to stare, who was just a little too obvious. You tried to brush off the lingering looks Abbot gave you—the way he subtly puffs out his chest or always angled his body toward you in conversation. It was obvious, in that quiet kind of way, that his attention was reserved just for you. But you ignored it, pretending not to notice, even when it was a little too obvious to miss. Bets were already placed—how long it would take before he finally worked up the courage to make a move—even if you were still “blissfully” unaware of just how much he was quietly pining.

He had been working on a patient who came in coughing with blood when you and your friend arrived in the ambulance. He didn’t have any clue that you were there. His attention was fully on the patient, determined to figure out what was causing the bleeding. Jack was always like that, laser-focused when it came to his work. Once he wrapped up, he’d head over to the nurses’ station to update the records.

As Abbot nears the station, a familiar laugh floats from one of the curtained rooms. He pauses, just for a second. It was probably nothing—his mind playing tricks—but the sound lingered in his mind a little longer than it should have.

“Seeing her drunk like that is making me feel jealous, like I should be out drinking with my friends,” Ellis says to Shen, who nods in agreement with a chuckle.

“I can’t drink like that anymore—I’d end up like her friend, but with both legs broken,” Shen says with a smirk.

“I don’t know what or who you're talking about,” Jack says, deadpan, as he begins typing up his reports. “But just know I could outdrink both of you any day.” Then, without looking up, he adds, “Now go check on the ambulance bay and save the gossip for the break room.”

Ellis and Shen share a quick look, their eyes filled with mischief , before they both grin and go on their merry way.

“I would love some chips and possibly a Pepsi,” your best friend says, batting her eyes at you. Despite the haziness from the pain meds, she definitely needed something greasy. You nod, slowly getting up from the hospital bed, stretching and lazily slipping your heels back on.

You clumsily move past the curtain, shuddering as the cold air hits you unexpectedly. The chill cuts through the warmth that's still lingering from the hospital bed, and you instinctively wrap your arms around yourself—only to hiss softly when your fingers graze the forgotten cuts along your arm. The sound of your heels tapping unevenly against the floor seems to echo in the halls as you try to find your footing, moving as quickly as you can toward the vending machines.

The sharp click-clack draws Jack’s attention as it echoes through the halls, cutting through the quiet like an unexpected disruption. When he finally looked up to see where the sound was coming from, he stilled. There you were. The familiar laugh he’d caught earlier suddenly made sense, and a quiet kind of relief settled in his chest—like his mind had not betrayed him after all. You were real, and even in this strange, fluorescent-lit setting, you looked like something pulled out of a dream.

He couldn't help the way his chest tightened a little when he saw you—dressed in a tight dress that made it clear you hadn't planned on ending your night here. You looked stunning, like always, but his eyes were quickly drawn to the small cuts on your arm. It didn't sit right with him, seeing something so carefully put together paired with signs of pain. You shouldn't have had to walk into a hospital looking like that—not like this.

Jack stands up before he even realizes he’s doing it—some mix of instinct and worry pushing him to his feet. He doesn’t call out, does not move toward you, just stays there quietly, hoping you'll look up and see him as you get closer.

You weren’t paying much attention—too focused on the vending machine and the snacks you and your friend had been daydreaming about. So when your heel caught on the floor, sending you stumbling forward, it felt almost inevitable. You grabbed the nearest thing—thankfully, the nurses’ station—catching yourself just in time.

Instead of embarrassment, a laugh escaped you. It was just that kind of night.

Jack had already moved, hands out just enough to steady you if you fell.

He didn’t find it amusing like you did.

With a glance at your shoes, he muttered dryly, “Are those hospital-approved footwear?”

Your eyes met his, a flicker of surprise crossing your face before you recovered with ease. “They just approved these, " you said with a light chuckle, lifting your foot slightly to show him. “You didn’t hear?”

His eyes traced for a second longer than necessary before the corner of his mouth twitched—just barely. “Must’ve missed the memo.”

All of a sudden, you feel a little exposed—standing in front of him in that dress, the chill setting in, and suddenly wishing you’d brought a jacket instead of relying on alcohol for warmth.

Jack notices, saying nothing, but stepping away for a moment. He returns with a blanket, handing it to you without a word.

You take it, wrapping it around yourself as you look up at him. “Thank you,” you say softly. And you mean it.

You start explaining what happened—how the night spiraled, how you and your friend ended up in the ambulance. You know he was curious, even if he hadn't asked. He listens closely, his eyes steady on yours, not judging, just quietly taking it all in. He seems to genuinely feel for your friend—broken bones were no easy feat, and he knew recovery would be painful and slow.

You make sure to mention that you’re fine—because you know Jack, and he always worries when it comes to his colleagues. You brush it off with a small shrug and a quick, “The cuts only hurt when I touch them,” trying to keep it light.

Jack immediately gives you a look, slipping into full doctor mode.

“Then maybe don’t touch them.” His tone is gentle, but just serious enough to earn a teasing eye-roll from you.

“Doctors, you’re all the same,” you mutter playfully, earning the smallest smirk.

“It’s in my blood.” he replies with a shrug, his tone light but somehow sincere.

You smile quietly, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders. “It’s still hard getting used to that,” you say, your voice light, not really expecting a response but content with the easy moment.

“Anyways, I promised some snacks for my friend, so, I’ll see you around.” You start to turn, already heading towards the front.

“I’ll go with you,” Jack says, stepping forward without hesitation.

You stop and turn, surprised. “Oh, you don’t have to. Aren’t you working? Don’t you have patients?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He gives a small shrug, unfazed. “I’m taking a break. Besides, I could use a snack too.”

You feel your face go warm at his comment, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Well, if you insist,” you reply.

You both walk side by side in a comfortable silence, the soft sounds of the hospital around you filling the space. You watch as the place moves in its own rhythm—nurses rushing to their station, doctors calling out to each other, and the steady hum of activity filling the air. There’s something oddly calming about it, despite the busy pace, and for a moment, everything feels just a little more relaxed.

You feel him looking at you, the weight of his gaze lingering, but you don’t bother to meet his eyes. You don’t need to. The warmth in your cheeks says it all, and you’re not sure if you want to acknowledge it just yet. Instead, you focus on the path ahead, the familiar hospital light overhead, letting the quiet comfort of the walk keep things easy.

You get ready to reach for your phone, pulling it out to get your payment ready for the snacks, when suddenly, a hand goes past you, tapping his card on the device. “Would you look at that, I have tap too,” he says with a grin.

You glance up at him, a bit surprised, the playful glint in his eyes catches you off guard, and the tension between you both suddenly feels palpable, even in the otherwise busy hospital. “You didn’t have to do that,” you manage, your voice a little softer than you intended, trying to hide the slight warmth spreading in your chest.

“With the night you had, it's the least I can do. Consider it a donation from the hospital,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips. There’s a flicker of something in his voice—warmth, intention—like the words meant more than they let on.

You glance at him, just briefly. “Well…in that case,” you say slowly, your voice playful but soft, “I’ll take a Pepsi too. It’s for my friend, obviously.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you crouch down to grab the snacks, his gaze lingering a second too long before he finally moves. Then he leans down beside you, slow and steady, careful to keep just enough distance—like he wasn’t hovering, but you could feel him there all the same. His presence was grounding, warm in a way that contrasted the energy of the hospital.

“Obviously,” he murmurs, his voice low enough to make your pulse tick up just slightly.

The moment passes like nothing happened—simple, easy—but the tension hums in the space between you, quiet and charged, like a spark left just barely untouched.

You’re back with your friend, sharing snacks and sipping on Pepsi like nothing happened—even though everything clearly did. You’re oddly quiet, staring off like you just came back from war…or a very specific kind of dream.

Your friend eyes you, chewing on a chip with the dramatic flair of someone who lives for the drama.

“What happened out there?” she asks, eyebrows raised. “You look all flushed and disoriented…Did the vending machine give you snacks and an orgasm?”

You shake your head slowly, still trying to process, cheeks warm as you mumble, “Worse…he paid for the snacks and the drink.”

“Oh my God, was it Abbot?!” she whispers like you just admitted to a crime.

“You don’t even work here how the fuck could you guess that?” you blink at her, caught completely off guard.

She grins, smug as hell. “Mateo tells me everything. I’ve been wondering when y’all were finally gonna do the dirty—honestly, I thought it would’ve happened by Christmas.”

You stare at her, deadpan. “We were at the vending machine for like five minutes.”

“Exactly,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “Plenty of time.”

You burst into uncontrollable laughter, doubling over with the bag of chips crinkling in the process. It’s not even what she said—it’s how she said it, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You don’t even have a comeback, you’re laughing too hard to think straight.

Your laughter echoes just enough to catch the attention of the nurses passing by, a few glancing in with amused smiles. Ellis walks in and says, “Must be a good night in here,” and it only makes you laugh harder.

After Abbot escorted you back to your friend’s room, despite your attempts to wave him off, he suddenly got the call about an incoming patient in critical condition. With barely a moment to spare, he straightened up, professionalism settling back over him, but his eyes stayed on you just a moment longer than usual.

“I’ll be busy for a while,” he said, his voice carrying a mix of seriousness and something a little more teasing. “Find me if you’re still here. I’m sure I’ll be hard to miss.”

You couldn’t help but smile as he turned, already heading back into the chaos of the ER. There was something about the way he moved, so focused yet so casual around you. You’d still be here, waiting for your friend’s boyfriend to arrive. He was visiting family a couple of cities away, but he was on his way now to pick you both up.

Jack ended up being busier than expected, cases stacking one on top of the other, and you never got around to finding him—not that you could’ve, with your friend’s boyfriend showing up not long after. Honestly, you were a little grateful. You didn’t even want to unravel whatever “come find me” was supposed to mean. Did he just want to chat a little longer? Say a proper goodbye?

You weren’t sure, and you didn’t want to be sure. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you slumped into the backseat, craving your bed, your pillow, and the luxury of pretending the night never happened. Meanwhile, Jack couldn’t stop thinking about you—how incredibly good you looked despite the chaos. Some of the nurses’ bets about him finally cracking? Yeah, they were getting real close.

#the pitt #the pitt x reader #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x you #jack abbot x female reader

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p0orbaby · 8 months ago

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Do Not Disturb (Unless You're Drunk and Nosy)

summary: privacy? you wish

warnings: suggestive, alcohol, literally everyone being a little shit, angry ale (hot)

a/n: may or may not be inspired by real events…

word count: 1.6k

You always thought getting walked in on would be, you know, mortifying. Like, your face turns tomato red, you start stammering, and then you spend the rest of your life avoiding the person who caught you with your pants down—literally. But it turns out that, in reality, it’s way worse than that.

Here’s the thing: Alexia Putellas is perfect. You know this, because you’ve spent an unhealthy amount of time cataloging her perfections. Her perfectly toned legs that could crush a coconut. Her perfectly sharp jawline that could carve Mount Rushmore. Her perfectly soft lips that could silence an entire stadium with a single kiss. And when you’re drunk at a friends house party, it’s easy to forget that this perfection isn’t something you should casually indulge in right now, in a random upstairs bedroom, while everyone else is downstairs playing beer pong and comparing their World Cup tattoos.

But when Alexia grabs your hand and drags you away from the chaos, her eyes all dark and dangerous, any rational thought you have dribbles out of your ears like last week’s gossip. So here you are, in this bed—well, on this bed, because you didn’t even make it all the way under the covers—desperately trying to remember how to breathe while Alexia’s tongue is doing things that would make a priest reconsider his career choices.

You’re about to reach the kind of nirvana people write songs about when the door slams open. Not opens—slams. As if someone was just waiting for the right moment to ruin your life.

“Oh my God,” someone says in a tone that suggests they’ve just witnessed a murder, except, of course, that would be preferable.

Alexia’s head snaps up so fast you’re surprised she doesn’t get whiplash, and you have about two seconds to see the wild panic in her eyes before her entire body goes rigid like a cat that’s just been sprayed with water. She’s still on top of you, which would be hot if you weren’t currently wondering whether you’re legally obligated to register as a sex offender for being caught like this.

And who’s standing there in the doorway? None other than Jenni, who you’re pretty sure was voted “Most Likely to Show Up Uninvited” in high school. She’s holding a half-empty bottle of tequila in one hand and a phone in the other, like she’s been documenting the worst possible moments of the night, and this one’s going to top the list.

“Holy shit,” Jenni says, blinking as if she’s trying to reboot her brain. It doesn’t work, because the next thing out of her mouth is, “Is this a private party, or can anyone join?”

That’s it. You’re going to die. This is how you die. Not from the embarrassment but because Alexia is going to murder you both. You can see it in her eyes. She’s doing some very fast maths in her head, and it ends with Jenni’s body floating down a river somewhere.

“Close the door,” Alexia snaps, and it’s the first thing she’s said in what feels like hours. Her voice is sharp enough to cut glass. Jenni just stares at her for a moment, then at you—still half-naked, because of course you are—and then at Alexia again, like she’s debating whether the smart move is to leave or to stay and further ruin your life.

But of course, Jenni’s never been one for smart moves.

“Oh, no, no, no,” she says, waving her tequila bottle around like it’s a magic wand that’s going to make this situation less awkward. “This is gold. I’ve got to tell the others.” She turns around and yells down the stairs, “Hey, guys! Get up here, quick!”

You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to crawl under the bed and maybe live there forever with the dust bunnies and whatever sock the last person to use this room lost. But you don’t get the chance to do any of that, because Alexia has now flipped the fuck out, and she’s off the bed and across the room in a flash, slamming the door shut with enough force to rattle the windows.

“Are you insane?” Alexia hisses at Jenni, who looks like she’s genuinely surprised that Alexia isn’t finding this whole situation hilarious. “Do you have a death wish?”

Jenni, who’s clearly never learned to read the room, just grins, leaning against the doorframe like she’s auditioning for the role of “World’s Biggest Pain in the Ass.” “Hey, don’t get mad at me. You’re the one who decided to get frisky in someone else’s house”

You’re still lying there, half-dressed, your shirt tangled up with some lacy thing that definitely belongs to Alexia, watching the two of them bicker like you’re not even here. You could say something, of course. You could try to diffuse the situation, maybe crack a joke or two, but that would require actual brain function, and right now, all you’ve got is the mental equivalent of elevator music.

Alexia’s about to bite Jenni’s head off—probably literally—when, as if the universe wasn’t satisfied with your current level of humiliation, there’s a knock on the door.

“Jenni? What’s going on?” You recognise that voice. It’s Mapi, followed by a snicker from Patri and what sounds like Ingrid trying and failing to shush them. Great. Just great. Now you’ve got an audience.

Before anyone can react, Jenni swings the door open with the enthusiasm of someone who’s about to introduce a sold-out concert, and your teammates spill into the room like they’ve been rehearsing this all night.

“What the—” Mapi starts, then stops dead when she sees you, then Alexia, and then your clothes all over the floor like some kind of chaotic breadcrumb trail. Her eyebrows shoot up so high they practically disappear into her hairline. “Oh, wow”

There’s a moment of silence that’s so uncomfortable you could bottle it and sell it to masochists. You’re pretty sure you’re about to melt into the bed and become one with the mattress. Meanwhile, Patri has the audacity to wolf whistle, which earns her a glare from Alexia that could stop a freight train.

“So,” Ingrid says, doing a terrible job at hiding her amusement. “This is…unexpected”

“Unexpected?” Mapi echoes, looking at Ingrid like she’s just suggested that the earth is flat. “This is fucking hilarious”

Jenni’s practically doubled over with laughter now, leaning on Mapi for support, which only sets her off too. Pretty soon, all three of them are giggling like schoolgirls who’ve just found out their teacher’s dating the P.E. teacher.

Alexia is standing there, jaw clenched, probably wondering if anyone would notice if she threw them all out the window. You, meanwhile, have reached a state of embarrassment that transcends space and time. You’re floating above the situation, looking down at your life and wondering where it all went so horribly, horribly wrong.

“Can we not make a big deal out of this?” you ask, even though you know it’s hopeless. “It’s not like we were…” You trail off, realizing that there’s no good way to end that sentence. Not like you were what? Sorting laundry? Rearranging the furniture?

“Having sex?” Patri supplies helpfully, still grinning like she’s just won the lottery. “You totally were. We walked in at the good part, didn’t we?”

Alexia makes a strangled sound in the back of her throat, which is probably the only thing that stops her from committing actual homicide. “Out. All of you. Now”

But no one moves. Because why would they? They’re having the time of their lives. Jenni’s already pulling out her phone, probably to tweet something like “Just walked in on the most awkward team bonding experience ever #FML”

“We’re not going to let you live this down, you know,” Mapi says, her smirk so wide it’s a wonder her face doesn’t split in half. “This is going to be the story we tell at every team event from now until the end of time”

“Your kids are going to hear about this,” Patri adds, not even bothering to hide her amusement. “Hell, your grandkids. This is legendary”

You’re going to need therapy after this. Maybe a lot of therapy. But, honestly, that’s future you’s problem. Right now, you just want them to leave so you can salvage whatever dignity you have left and maybe finish what you started with Alexia—assuming, of course, that this hasn’t killed the mood entirely.

Finally, because even she knows when enough is enough, Jenni straightens up and nods toward the door. “Alright, alright. We’ll give you two lovebirds some privacy.” She winks at Alexia, who looks like she might actually be considering taking up a new sport just to avoid ever having to see Jenni again. “But don’t take too long. We’re going to need the play-by-play downstairs”

With that, they finally—finally—file out of the room, still snickering and whispering like they’ve just uncovered the juiciest gossip of the century. As the door closes behind them, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Well,” you say, turning to look at Alexia, who’s now standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “That went as good as expected”

She gives you a look that could freeze hell, but then, after a moment, she sighs and shakes her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “We are never doing this again”

“Sex?” you ask, and the horrified expression that crosses her face makes you burst out laughing. “In someone else’s house,” you clarify, still giggling. “I think that’s a solid rule”

She rolls her eyes but then moves back toward the bed, a mischievous glint in her eyes that tells you maybe the night isn’t entirely ruined after all. “Well, we’re here now,” she says, climbing onto the mattress and pulling you toward her. “Might as well make the most of it”

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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salfishersface · 8 months ago

Text

Late Night Call From An Ex || Larry Johnson

Synopsis - You receive a late night call from your ex.

Warnings - NSFW. Drug Use.

Notes - All characters are aged 18+!

Word Count - 3.4k.

{Caffeinate Me}

It was heading into the early hours of the morning and everywhere, both inside and outside of your apartment, was quiet. The town of Nockfell was sleeping. There were only two sources of light illuminating your room: first came from the blue screen of your TV, you see, you had fallen asleep watching your favourite movie a few hours earlier, and the second came from the light of the moon behind the sheer curtains covering your window. Your sleep was dreamless and tranquil at the same time, your body was in a state of complete relaxation… that was until your phone began to ring and vibrate loudly on the glass-top bedside table just to your right.

You shot up from your scrunched up position and while your eyes adjusted to the two sources of light in your room, you flailed your arm around on the bedside table to reach for your phone. Out of fear of an emergency, you didn’t even bother to check the caller ID. You clicked the accept button and brought the phone to your ear. “Hello? Is everything okay?” You asked, your voice shaky from nerves and still full of sleep. A short, sweet giggle came down the other end of the phone and immediately extinguished any panic you had been feeling and replaced it with pure rage. “Who is this?” You asked, your tone firmer than before.

“It’s mee,” the voice replied in a giggling, drunken sing-song. Upon hearing those two words, your heart sank. It was your ex-boyfriend: Larry Johnson.

You let out a frustrated sigh and hesitated between hearing him out or ending the call immediately. You pulled the phone away from your ear to check the caller ID in order to confirm that it was Larry, when you noticed the time. It was almost half three in the morning – the time alone made you want to hear what he could possibly want. With another sigh you rolled your eyes. “What do you want Larry?” You asked, trying to keep the calm tone of your voice. Larry let out another dreamy sigh on the end of the phone and you immediately knew he was drunk, stoned, or both. After a few seconds passed by with no response, you repeated your question. “What do you want Larry?”

Larry stopped his giggling on the other end of the line and let out a groan. “Missed you,” he slurred. “Wanted to speak to you.”

“You’re drunk and high,” you sighed. Despite this, you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter at his admission.

“I was just trying to numb the pain,” a choked cry escaped his lips followed by a sigh. “They say drugs and alcohol numbs the feelings, right? Well I’m feeling so much pain Y/N.”

You felt your heart clench with sadness at Larry’s words. You pulled your phone away from your ear to look at the date before responding. “Larry… It’s been four months.”

“I know, I know, and it’s been the worst four months of my life. I need to see you,” desperation oozed from Larry’s voice and you let out a soft groan. “Please Y/N.”

“Do you even know what time it is right now Larry?” You snapped, checking the time once more. You didn’t even give him a chance to answer before you carried on. “It's just past half three in the morning. You woke me up.”

But Larry wasn’t fazed by whatever time it was. “Please,” he repeated. You could hear the sadness and pain in his voice.

With a low growl of defeat you closed your eyes tightly and nodded your head. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” and with that, you put the phone down and swung your legs over the edge of your bed. You headed to the bathroom of the apartment to brush your teeth and shoved on some comfy clothes while trying to prepare yourself for what you would find at Larry’s apartment. That’s what hurt you more.

When you were ready, you grabbed your car keys from the dressing table in your bedroom and made sure all of the windows in your apartment were locked. Then you rushed from your front door to your car which was parked in its allocated space in the apartment complexes’ parking lot. You began the short drive to Addison Apartments and took note of the streetlights that illuminated the way and lit up the drunkards who were stumbling home with their friends and loved ones. Your heart felt heavy as you pulled up to the apartments. You pulled your key out of the ignition and ran to the heavily lit entrance of the complex, running straight towards the elevator and pressing the ‘B’ button that would take you to the basement below. When you arrived at the basement, the elevator door opened with a loud ding, startling you slightly. You stepped out of the elevator and quickly made your way to Larry’s apartment door, banging loudly.

After a few seconds of banging, the door to Larry’s apartment swung open revealing the long-haired brunette. You looked at your ex-boyfriend, his eyes sunken and red from crying and smoking weed. “You came!” Larry exclaimed, hiccuping slightly. A wide, yet sad smile appeared on his lips. You pushed past Larry and took a few steps into his apartment, the smell of weed and stale alcohol immediately filling your nostrils.

“Of course I came,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “You called me at half three in the morning, what was I supposed to do?”

“I knew you’d come,” Larry whispered softly as tears began to fall down his cheeks. Larry took in your appearance and watched you, almost as if he was waiting for you to say something. But when you didn’t say anything, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against his body. “Gods, I’ve missed you so much.” He choked up. You froze in place, unsure of what to do. You wanted to comfort Larry, you really did, but at the same time all of this was happening because of him. He was the one who broke things off with you four months ago with no real reason as to why. Eventually, after a few seconds, you began to pat Larry’s back hesitantly. “I’ve missed you,” he repeated.

You let out a frustrated sigh as your hand began to make absent-minded circles on Larry’s back. He smelt of drugs and booze, it was turning your stomach. “Where’s Sal?” You asked him quietly.

“Went home,” Larry grumbled, wiping his nose on his long-sleeved shirt. “He said that I needed to talk to you… To fix this. To fix us.”

“Larry, you made it perfectly clear that there wasn’t ever going to be an us again.”

“I was wrong, okay? Look… I need you. I’m an utter mess without you. All I do is drink and get high, hoping that your beautiful, beautiful face will disappear from my mind.”

Another sigh left your lips and you could feel your heart breaking. You too were finding it hard to come back from the breakup, but you were trying your best. One of the reasons you were doing ‘so good’ was because you went no-contact, and yet here you are standing in front of Larry, offering him comfort. It was painful. “You know getting high and drunk isn’t a good way to deal with your emotions Larry,” you spoke softly to him.

“I know but…” Larry trailed off, sniffling.

“No buts,” you said sternly. “Come on, let’s get you showered and cleaned up.” Larry didn’t even protest as you shut his apartment door and led him towards the bathroom. You turned on the shower and allowed it time for the water to heat up as you turned towards your ex-boyfriend who was still sniffling to himself. “Arms up,” you said, motioning your arms up. Larry followed in your movements, lifting up his arms as you grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. “Good, good,” you whispered, more-so to yourself than Larry, who was already working on unbuttoning his trousers. In the blink of an eye, your ex-boyfriend was now completely naked in front of you, stumbling his way into the shower. “Be careful!” You hiss as he slips on the watery, slippery surfaces upon entering.

“Oops,” Larry giggled, allowing the water to spray over his head and trickle down his body.

“Sit down Larry,” you said, motioning towards the floor of the shower. Without any words of protest Larry sat down, the water completely covering his head and body now. You grabbed a handful of shampoo and began to rub it into Larry’s scalp. Your heart was beating rapidly at the tenderness of the moment, a queasiness settling in your stomach. Larry had stopped his giggling and was now staring at you as your fingers massaged his scalp. “What?” You asked, your voice laced with a hint of annoyance.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, biting his bottom lip.

You felt your heart jump even harder against your ribcage at Larry’s words, but you chose to ignore his antics. After tonight, you’d go no contact again. This was just a blip of a reunion. You ignored Larry’s words and motioned for the man to put his head under the running water. Larry complied, rinsing the soap out of his hair. He already felt slightly more sober. When Larry’s hair was completely rinsed you grabbed the shower gel and poured a decent sized blob on a flannel. You began to wash his body, starting with his shoulders. You made sure that the suds from the flannel poured down his chest. “May I?” You asked, motioning down to his lower body. Larry nodded his head, his eyes glazed over as he watched you bending down to wash his legs and groin area. When you were finished washing his body, Larry leaned against the cold tile walls and allowed the water to run down his body. It was clear he was coming down from the drugs and alcohol now. “Come on, let’s get you dressed and into bed,” you whispered to Larry, as you turned off the shower and grabbed a towel from the towel rack to wrap over his body.

“Thank you,” Larry hiccuped as he stepped out of the shower. He led the way to his bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed with the towel still wrapped firmly around his shoulders.

“You’re welcome Larry,” you whispered back, a soft smile on your lips. All the anger you had felt towards him for calling you in the early hours of the morning had disappeared and was replaced by a familiar fuzzy feeling in your stomach. You shook your head, trying your hardest not to allow those feelings to fester anymore than they already had. “Let’s get you dressed.”

Larry shook his head and lay back on the bed, allowing his body to be on full display for you. “You know I like to sleep naked,” he said cockily, a tired smirk on his lips.

“So you do,” you mumbled. You patted your thighs awkwardly as you looked around Larry’s bedroom. It didn’t look much different than when the two of you were together, there was just more junk lying around the floor. “Are you going to be okay now?”

Larry immediately perked up at your words, his eyebrows furrowing. “You’re not leaving, are you?” He asked, panic lacing his voice.

“Well, yeah. You seem sobered up enough for me to go back to my house, back to sleep.”

“Don’t leave me,” Larry whispered softly, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist and pull you towards the edge of the bed. “I don’t want you to go.”

“Larry…” you whispered back, trying your hardest not to let the tears well up in your eyes.

“Just for tonight.” You felt your resolve crumbling little by little, especially with the way Larry was looking at you. His eyes were large, resembling a puppy dog, and he had a discreet pout on his lips. “Just for tonight,” he whispered, pulling you down on top of him. It didn’t take a second for his lips to meet yours, kissing you so lightly you would have mistaken his lips for a feather if your eyes weren’t open. A gasp left your lips at the contact and you attempted to move away.

“Larry, we can’t.”

“Just for tonight,” he repeated again, closing his eyes and kissing you more passionately than before. You couldn’t deny him, not when your heart was beating as rapidly as it was. You kissed back, letting out a soft moan as your own eyes fluttered closed. You felt his cock twitch against your thighs as you deepened the kiss further, your hands moving to cup his face to keep him steady. He smelt like a mixture of body soap and alcohol, it was oddly comforting to you. Larry rolled you both over so his naked form was now hovering over you, droplets of water fell from his wet hair onto your face and neck just as your ex-boyfriend leaned down to pepper hot kisses against your throat. “Missed you so much Y/N,” he whispered against your jugular vein. Without any hesitation Larry’s hands were already moving to your trousers, inching them down your thighs. Your body shivered as your trousers were pulled off completely and thrown across the room but you were too caught up in the kiss to verbally react. Larry’s hands cupped your tits over your shirt and groaned at the feeling of them against the palm of his hands. “Oh my Gods,” he moaned against your mouth. His cock was now rock hard and leaking pre-cum against your bare thighs. “I can’t wait much longer.”

“Are we really doing this?” You ask, panting heavily.

“Yes,” Larry replied. His thumbs tucked under the elastic of your underwear before he ripped them off, leaving your bottom half completely bare to him. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember,” Larry mumbled as his hand smoothed up your thigh, finally coming to rest on the lips of your heat. Larry gazed into your eyes as he slicked a finger inside your cunt, biting his bottom lip in an attempt to stop the moan that was threatening to spill from his lips.

“Larry,” you whimpered softly, grasping onto the sheets below your body.

“You’re so wet,” he gasped. Larry began to move his finger in and out of you slowly, earning every moan and gasp that fell from your lips. After a few seconds of this motion, Larry inserted a second finger inside of you and began scissoring. He wanted to make sure you were fully stretched for him. You let out a whimper as Larry retracted his fingers and put them up to your lips. “Suck,” he demanded. You nodded your head and opened your mouth slowly, allowing Larry to slip his digits past your lips. Your scent and taste invaded your senses as you slowly slurped the wetness off of Larry’s fingers, moaning softly as you did. “Such a good girl for me.”

You let out a moan of appreciation and felt Larry position himself between your legs. “Please Larry,” you whispered, your voice begging.

“I’ll give you what you want my sweet girl. I promise,” Larry whispered as he fully seated himself between your legs. He didn’t even give you a second to answer before pushing himself past your tight entrance. The moan that ripped through your lips was obscene and you couldn’t help but cling tightly against Larry as he gave you a few seconds to adjust. You were about to give him the go-ahead, to tell him that it was okay for him to move, but Larry must have read your mind. His hips pulled away from your own before snapping back against them in one swift, rapid movement. Your eyes widened and your mouth hung open. “Holy shit, you’re so tight!” Larry exclaimed through gritted teeth, hips moving immediately once more.

“Larry!” You squealed, biting your lip. Larry however responded to your squeal by fucking into you at a harder rate, his cock practically spearing in and out of you. Your arms hung loosely around Larry’s waist and your head tilted further back on the bed, not only this but you were moaning loudly. You didn’t have the head space to be embarrassed about that though, all’s you could think about was how nice it felt to be fucked like this again. To be fucked like you were the most precious thing on earth. Your legs were untangling from Larry’s waist due to the sheer intensity of his thrusts when Larry decided to switch positions slightly. In one easy movement he had you folded, legs over his shoulder and forehead pressed against yours as he pounded against you. His eyes gazed into yours with such passion, desire and adoration that it sent visible tingles up your spine.

“You know I love you,” he panted, pressing soft kisses to your nose and cheeks. You felt your cunt flutter at those words and at the sultry, lustful tone of his voice which just made Larry smirk. “Do you like that? Hmmm? When I say that I love you?” You didn’t hesitate to nod, which only made the brunette chuckle lowly. “Then let me say it again: I. Love. You.”

“I love you too,” you gasped out. Your eyes widened as you felt the coil in your stomach tightening, threatening to snap at any moment. Larry was quick to recognise this and brought a hand up to your throat, squeezing slightly as he continued to pump away. Your toes began to curl as he continuously hit that squishy soft spot inside of you and before you knew it, you were cumming. “Fuck, Larry. I’m cumming!” You practically screamed, eyes widening even more until they shook as you squirted over Larry’s torso and groin area. Your cunt clenched down on his cock, pulsating and fluttering as the clear liquid gushed out of you unapologetically. The sight, the sounds, the sensations – it was all too much for Larry.

Immediately, he came. His hips stuttering as he filled you up to the brim while whimpering in your ear. “Shit I’m cumming. Marry me, please fucking marry me.”

You couldn’t deny him. Not right now. Not while rope after rope of his semen was flowing inside of you. Nodding your head you let out a strained, shaky breath. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” he groaned, finally stilling his hips against your own. Larry continued to keep his face buried into the crook of your neck, peppering soft kisses against your neck as he gasped for breath. The hand that he had wrapped around your throat was now stroking gentle circles on your cheek, as if mapping your facial structure to his memory. “Holy shit, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you mumble softly.

Larry finally lifts his head up from your shoulders and kisses your lips softly. His lips greedily glided over yours as his hands trailed down to map your body. “I meant what I said y’know,” he muttered sleepily.

“Huh?” You asked, tilting your head to the side.

“I want you to marry me. I don’t want to be apart from you anymore. These last four months have been hell for me, being without you, it made me realise that I don’t care if I’m a screw up. I need you.”

“Larry—“

“No Y/N,” Larry said sternly, interrupting you. “I mean it. I need you in my life. You make me want to be a better person. You make me feel as though life is worth living.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. You could hear the sincerity oozing out of each syllable. “I will marry you,” you said, cupping his face with your hand. Larry opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He had to admit, he was shocked. He was expecting some form of resistance from you.

“You will?” He asked, dumbfounded. You chuckled and nodded your head, looking up at him with an affectionate gaze. Larry grinned at you before pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. “Fuck, I really love you.”

You and Larry had a lot to work on together, but you were both determined to make it work between the two of you. Shortly after this encounter, you were moving your stuff into the basement of Addison Apartments as Larry had asked you to move in with him. Being back in his embrace just felt right. It felt needed, for the both of you. You couldn’t believe that after four months of being apart, you clicked as if you had never been separated. That is what true love is.

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kitkat13001 · 11 days ago

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⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 outro.

facing tempests of dust, i’ll fight until the end creatures of my dreams raise up and dance with me now and forever, i’m your king…

⤷ satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader

⤷ hurt no comfort!! 🙈 mentions of blood and injury, canon-typical violence, titled after the song by m83 (listen for best [worst?] experience)

you know your time is running out as you reach for your phone with trembling hands. your fingers nearly slip as you dial, slick with blood. you know the number by heart.

satoru always picks up by the second ring.

“hiii!! how’s my beautiful baby doing? kicking cursed ass i presume?”

the cheeriness of his voice is enough to bring a soft smile to your face.

“yeah,” you manage, fingers curled tight around the gaping wound in your side. “not a goddamn one in sight…”

that part is the truth at least. every curse you’d been sent here to exorcise had left, abandoning your broken and battered body to die here.

“you on your way home?”

home…now there’s a thought. you close your eyes for a brief second (though it feels like much longer) and envision it.

satoru, waiting for you at the door like an overexcited puppy. the smell of dinner wafting throughout the house. he probably ordered your favorite to celebrate you coming home. probably invited his students, too. nanami, maybe if he could convince him to come. shoko might stop by, just to check on you and say hey.

but at the rate you’re bleeding out, with how far you are from where you were supposed to be picked up? …you’d never make it.

“baby?”

“i’ll see you—” you wince, biting your lip to keep from crying out as you shift. “—soon, ‘toru. don’t you worry your pretty lil’ head.”

“what’s wrong?”

you should’ve known there’s no fooling him. his voice has shifted from his special you-tone to crisis handling. he knows something is up.

“nothing,” you try, but the pain is evident in your voice now. you did always hate keeping things from him.

“where are you? i’ll come get you right now, just tell me where you are.”

things are beginning to blur and your eyelids feel heavy. “i…i don’t know. there’s…there’s trees? it’s getting dark, ‘toru…”

“fuck, fuck, fuck.” panic is rising in his voice now, and it sends a tinge of guilt to your bleeding stomach.“okay, don’t worry, baby. don’t worry, i’m coming. fuck, where was your mission supposed to be?”

you mumble something, and even you’re unsure of what you’re saying.

there’s things moving and muffled voices on the line, and you call out weakly for satoru, just to hear his voice again.

“i’m here.” his voice is breaking, and it’s not the static. “i’m here, baby, don’t worry. i’m on my way. i’ll get to you, i promise. don’t worry.”

you’re not worried, but you think the sentiment is more for himself anyway. you’re on your back now, and the sky looks endless. the blue has begun to fade into reds and oranges and pinks, dotted with green from the branches above you. maybe this isn’t such a bad place to die…

“i’m coming, sweetheart. i’m on my way, just stay with me, okay?”

you know his hands are shaking. you wish you could be there to squeeze them until he calms down.

“just…just stay on the line with me? please…?”

he makes a faint choked noise. “always. i’m always here.”

your time is running out, you can feel it seeping through your fingers like the blood rapidly pooling on the ground.

he’s babbling what seems to you like nonsense, his voice growing fainter and fainter.

“stay with me, baby, please.”

you want to. god, you want to.

“i’m here,” you echo, voice little more than a whisper on the evening breeze. “always here.”

there’s more muffled noises on the other end, but you’re becoming less coherent by the second.

you lose sight of the sky, now turning dark, when your eyes flutter closed.

you think you say “i love you.”

you hope he says it back.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics — this one hurt. i have nothing but apologies to say for this one….

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ovrgrwnivy · 9 months ago

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Hello! I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if you could write a Spencer Reid x Reader fic based off “prison for life” by Olivia Rodrigo. Spencer has always been in the protector role so i believe it would fit him, please and thank you

PRISON FOR LIFE ; spencer reid

i know i can protect myself, but when you do it for me it’s hot as hell . . .

a/n: your brain is huge this song is so spencer coded

warnings: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, unsub / case entirely made up to avoid spoilers, protective!spencer, established relationship, secret relationship, mentions of guns, violence, blood, criminal minds in general

a team. the worst kind of conclusion to draw when you’re narrowing in on an unsub, or two in this case. two family annihilators that would stalk and learn the routines of their victims, the kills were usually quick and ruthless, in and out in a matter of minutes.

only this time, your team had gotten there right in time. derek dragged one unsub out the door while the other bolted down the stairs towards the basement. without thinking, you’re sprinting after him, unknowingly running straight into a trap.

you trip the moment you barrel through the door, flying head first down the flight of stairs and landing on the hard concrete with a hard thud.

dizzily, you get to your feet, clumsily reaching for your gun only to realise you dropped it on your way down. it’s dark, you’re disoriented, and most terrifyingly, you’re not alone down here.

a fact you’re abruptly reminded of when a cord is wrapped around your throat, pulling your back flush against the chest of the unsub you were hunting. the initial panic urges you to scramble, but your training kicks in and you manage the lodge your elbow right into his ribs making him drop the cable.

the same elbow connects with his jaw with a satisfying crack but he’s not going easily, using the hair at the back of your head as leverage to bash your head against a dust old desk.

the struggle goes on for what feels like hours, and you’re giving as good as you’re getting. with a successful knee to his groin you send the unsub tumbling to the ground, and right as he’s about to lunge at you a metallic click sounds from behind where you stand.

“one more step and i’ll empty my clip”

spencer reid, your favourite coworker who also happens to be your long time boyfriend, has his gun pointed at the unsub with one hand as the other reaches out to pull you behind him protectively.

in a matter of seconds tara is cuffing the dirtbag before you and hauling him up the stairs with the help of jj, leaving you and spencer in the dusty basement.

“I had it under control.”

“It was no problem, darling, honestly, no need to thank me” spencer teases, holstering his gun and taking your face in his hands to fully examine the extent of your injuries “you really think i was just gonna ignore the fact you ran after a killer and didn’t come back within sixty seconds?”

“i’m not some damsel in distress” you groan, letting him examine your face with no resistance “i can protect myself”

“i know.” spencer nods, using his thumb to swipe the blood away from your bottom lip “it’s not gonna stop me protecting you, though. sorry”

he can see through your faux annoyance. spencer knows just as much as you do that you like having him as your protector, it’s ‘his job’ as he put it.

though, his protectiveness has made hiding your relationship that bit trickier.

everyone on the team would take a bullet for each other, there was no doubt about it, but people hotch were beginning to notice that spencer often went above and beyond when it came to your safety.

like when the bau were being targeted, he never left your side, if you were sent to interview a suspect reid was right there with you. even if a joke was made at your expense, it wouldn’t be entertained by spencer.

sometimes you could pass it off as it being because you were a woman, because even though all the women on the team were more than capable, the men on the team had a fierce protective streak for them whether or not they knew.

“you’re so annoying..” you grumble, fighting a small smile.

“mhm” spencer chuckles, pressing a quick, light kiss to your head “i love you too, darling”

“oh!”

a squeak from tara has both of you whipping your heads in her direction, frozen in the mixture of fear and embarrassment that you’d just been caught out.

“well,” tara clears her throat and makes a poor attempt at concealing a grin “we’re all done here when you two are ready.”

#manheimsmuse #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds

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sarahsghosts · 29 days ago

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the death and resurrection of jonathan price

john price x female, wife!reader

angst with an eventual happy ending

word count: 2,473

cw: we get a little bit steamy, here, folks. nsfw, we’ll also start seeing themes of ptsd crop up. language.

disclaimer: this is my first time writing anything nsfw so bear with me everyone

chapter 3

songs: break my baby - kaleo

as you approach the dingiest and most rundown apartment complex you have ever seen, you double check the address gaz had given you. this couldn't be right.

your gps had brought you to the worst side of town.

you walk up to the unit that he indicated was john's and stood outside the door, listening to police sirens somewhere in the distance.

you raise your hand to knock. he doesn't want to see you. you freeze right before your knuckles tap the door.

your stomach twists into a tight knot and you shake your head. john loved you. whatever he went through, you could face it together, now that he was home.

you rap your knuckles on the door loudly.

thirty seconds went by. then sixty.

you triple check the address.

after almost two minutes of you standing on the front stoop, you raise your hand to knock again, when the door swings open.

it took everything in you not to gasp out loud.

the man before you was almost unrecognizable as your husband.

his hair was choppy as if it had been grown out and then carelessly sheered down many times. his beard, however, was longer than you’d ever seen it.

his face was gaunt, his cheeks sunken in a little more than you remembered, and his eyes…

john had the most incredible blue eyes you had ever seen. they were vibrant and bright, always so expressive. but this man’s eyes…

cold. empty of all the love and admiration they normally carried whenever he looked at you, but somehow also wild. a little unstable. like the spirit of a cornered animal lived behind them.

you were not previously naive to what john was capable of. you didn’t know the exact details of his job, but you know it was brutal and unforgiving at times. often, when he returned from deployments, it took some time for him to adjust. get his head on straight.

but when he looked at you, there was always compassion. love. patience.

you couldn’t find a trace of any of that in this man’s eyes.

his harsh stare sent shivers through you. he really did look like a stranger for a moment.

but, no. this was john, your john, and he had been to hell and back. he needed you, dammit, even if he didn’t know he did.

your face must have betrayed your horror, because john’s eyes narrow.

he looks you up and down with a cold and unkind expression. when he speaks, his voice is rough, like sandpaper. “what are you doing here?”

you blink. “what do you—”

“i thought i made myself perfectly fucking clear,” he interrupts, “when i told gaz not to bring you around.” he glances around behind you, as if he expects to see kyle with you.

you want to say that he should’ve told gaz not to give out his address, then, but you don’t. “i had to see you,” you tell him, your throat tightening.

something about the statement, your tone of voice, or just you, makes john narrow his eyes further. “yeah, well, you’ve seen me now, haven’t you?” he begins to close the door.

panic seizes you and you put your hand up, holding the door open. “wait!”

john could have easily pushed through you, but he doesn’t. he pulls the door back, again. this time, he looks annoyed. “what?” he snaps.

“john,” you breathe out, trying to collect your thoughts. “i… we… you can’t just shut me out.” you mean it both figuratively and literally.

he watches you for a long moment, before he says, “there’s nothing here for you.”

your brows draw together and you look like you want to argue, but he continues.

“whatever - whoever - you think you came here to find?” he shakes his head. “not here.”

you take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. you truly didn’t expect to feel angry, but your hands clench into fists beside you.

here he was, after all this time, directly in your line of sight and you can’t believe that the singular person keeping you from your husband was himself.

“bullshit,” you snap.

if he is surprised by your anger, he doesn’t show it. he crosses his arms over his chest, almost looking bored.

you take a step closer to him. “john,” you plead. “we can work through this. whatever happened—”

“that’s enough,” he cuts you off, his tone still sounding disinterested.

“john, i love you! don’t do this.” your eyes well with tears, but you blink them back. “let me in,” you urge in a quiet voice.

you take another small step towards him. he mirrors it, moving backwards and maintaining the distance between you both, but allowing you one step over the threshold.

something in his gut, primal and vicious, bellowed inside him at the sight of you. delicate, and still so beautiful. even more so than he remembers.

he had stopped thinking about you after almost a year in the gulag.

you, so ethereal and divine. not even the memory of you could exist in that hell.

no. he had become focused strictly on survival in a way that was primitive and animalistic. most days he hadn’t even felt human anymore.

but here you were in front of him, almost angelic, like something pure and perfect. that desperate look on your face, so fragile, with your brows pulled together in concern.

he wasn’t the man you had known. he hadn’t been for a long time. he wasn't good. he would ruin you. he would destroy you.

it was better that you stayed away.

“i don’t love you. if i ever did, i stopped a long time ago.”

you reel back as if you’d been struck. you stare at him, your eyes holding a mixture of confusion and distress.

then, to his surprise, he saw a gentle fury seep into them.

“liar.” your voice came out harsh and deathly quiet.

he hadn't expected you to get angry. in fact, he thought it was going to be easier to get rid of you than this. he really hadn’t expected you to put up so much of a fight.

“believe what you want, love. not my problem either way. if there was ever something between us, it’s over now. you’ve been gettin’ on without me for a while now, i reckon you’ll be just fine.”

you stare at him in disbelief. you tilt your head slightly and take a step towards him. and then another. this time, he doesn’t step backwards and now there’s virtually no space between the two of you.

you tip your head back to meet his gaze, anger still evident on your face. your eyes flit around his features, desperate for some sign of either deception or affection.

john loved you. he had to.

you crane your neck up so your lips hover over his. “you fucking liar,” you breathe onto them, before you kiss him gently.

he stands there, frozen under your kiss, and you start to think maybe this is how you’ll get through to him. you lean up on your toes and deepen the kiss.

his hands shoot up and grip your shoulders like a vice. he breaks off the kiss and in two large steps, has you pushed against the nearest wall.

he stares down at you, his eyes dark with something savage and narrowly restrained. his upper lip twitches slightly, and his voice is dangerously low as he says, “don't.”

something squeezes tightly in your chest and your gut is telling you not to push him, to get the hell out of there.

but this was your john, and you’d be damned if you ever stopped trying to reach him.

you hold his gaze and, despite all your self-preservative instincts screaming against it, you reach up, sliding a hand over his chest.

you grab a fistful of his shirt and stay like that for a moment, before you use it to pull yourself up to kiss him, again. it’s a hard and desperate kiss, and you pray it tells him everything that you can’t say.

i need you, it says. don’t send me away.

to your surprise, he returns the kiss roughly, almost mercilessly. his hands tighten on your shoulders, and he flattens you back against the wall.

excitement surges through your body and you reach up to trail your fingers across the side of his jaw, under his ear, and onto the back of his head, tugging at the hairs on the base of his skull.

your other hand releases his shirt and begins to trail down his abdomen and towards the buckle of his belt.

his hand shoots down, catching yours tightly, and you freeze, breaking your kiss.

you suck in a breath, your head feeling dizzy, and john tightens his hold on your hand, almost painfully so.

his chest heaves up and down and he looks as though he barely has any semblance of self-control. “this doesn't change a fucking thing,” he says gruffly. “understand?”

you shake your head, swallowing thickly. “i don't care.”

and you don’t - it just feels good to have his hands on you again. rougher, more calloused than before. his hold is almost violent as if he truly doesn’t care about your wellbeing. but it’s still him. there is an underlying familiarity of his hands on your skin.

it strikes you, suddenly, that he hadn’t had sex in three years.

that’s fine, you think. neither had you.

which is probably what explains what you do next: you sink down to your knees.

john immediately releases your hand and begins working his belt and undoing the button of his pants.

he winds his hand in your hair, tightly, painfully and you get to work.

the groan that rumbled low in his throat sends a desire through you that you haven’t felt in years. you move enthusiastically, opening your eyes in time to see him tip his head back, a low curse slipping from his lips. something about it sends a rush of exhilaration through you. you can feel your mascara stinging your eyes, but you don’t care.

it isn’t long before john tugs sharply on your hair, pulling you to your feet. he backs you against the wall and kisses you harshly, teeth clashing. he sucks your lower lip into his mouth, scraping his teeth over it. you wince, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

he reaches down and slides his hands around the backs of your thighs. he grips them tightly, likely leaving bruises, and lifts you up.

your legs instinctively wrap around his torso, and he begins walking you further into the tiny apartment. his lips suddenly latch around the sensitive point at the base of your throat, his teeth scraping the skin.

the little whine that slips out was completely outside of your control. “john,” you whimper, breathlessly. “i—”

one large hand shoots to back of your head, the other sliding under your ass to help support you as you still cling to his waist.

he balls his fist into your hair and tugs harshly, tilting your head back forcefully. “stop talking,” he growls in your ear.

he ungraciously drops you down onto his bed. your back has barely touched the lumpy mattress before he’s on you, pulling at your clothes.

your head spins as his hands swiftly work their way up and down your now exposed body. not in the loving and generous way like he used to, but in a selfish and aggressive way, groping and grasping your flesh like a man starved.

he isn't patient nor gentle with he pushes himself into you. “fuck,” he hisses through his teeth.

he grabs a hold of your wrists, one in each hand, and pins them to the mattress as he rolls and snaps his hips back and forth against yours.

he shifts his weight forward and it was possible you felt pain prick in your wrist bones as he does. you really don’t notice as you are riding a high that is building quickly and zealously.

after years of being touch starved, it doesn’t take much to undo you. the familiarity of the two of you coming together makes your heart race and your head spin.

every time he pushes into you, you shift your hips up to meet his, which elicits that same guttural groan from deep in his throat, that you heard before.

that sound from him, his matched enthusiasm, is the last thing you need to tip you over the edge. “i'm—” you gasp, screwing your eyes shut. “i'm going to—”

without slowing his pace, john releases one of your wrists and clamps his hand over your mouth, his hand covering the entire lower half of your face.

white spots dance behind your eyelids as you reach your peak. john’s pace doesn’t slow as you ride through your high, whining and moaning behind his hand as the post-orgasm sensitivity makes you begin to whimper.

his hands tighten on your face and wrist, and he leans down, pushing himself further against you, his face pressed into the crook of your neck, grunting as he finished.

his wild beard scratches your skin, and you feel his sharp breaths hot against your throat.

he lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours. for a moment, neither of you move, but you feel his hand loosen on your mouth. you pant hard, your chest, slick with sweat, rising and falling against his.

you only now notice that he hadn't even gotten undressed.

you wait for him to collapse onto the mattress next to you like he always had in the past, but instead, he pushes himself up and climbs off the bed. he stands there, looking at you as you laid still, a panting, sweaty mess. his eyes rake down your body one last time before he turns and walks towards the adjoining bathroom.

as he left you there, he said one thing, his voice gravelly and his tone impassive.

“you can show yourself out.”

part 4

masterlist

—-

TAGLIST: @fruitymoonbeams-blog @evergreenfields

#captain john price my husband #my fics #john price x reader #captain john price #john price #cod price #cod x reader #cod mwiii #cod mwii #call of duty #call of duty x reader #modern warfare #modern warefare ii #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod mw3 #john price x you #reader insert #no y/n

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lovettery · 2 months ago

Text

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Second chance

for a dream ᯓᡣ𐭩

Summary : You realise you're pregnant but have to tell Arthur the news.

Warnings/Content : Swearing, pregnancy, petnames (especially darling), no specific gender but female implied.

It had been a long, sweltering day at Clemens Point. The tension of the week slowly fading away through camp as everyone relaxes around the campfire, singing songs and reminiscing stories of years long ago.

Despite your initial wanting to join the camp and distract yourself, your mind was running wild with panic as you come to terms with the..issue you discovered today.

You're pregnant.

It's not as if this was an awful thing but it most definitely wasn't ideal. I mean, raising a baby in these circumstances was unfair but at the same time the idea of a baby, something you had dreamed about for so long finally coming true, made the cons seem not so important anymore. The only real panic was how you were to tell Arthur about this.

You and Arthur have been going steady for a while now and your relationship was strong. You still felt that same passion and adoration for the man as you did the first time you'd seen him. The day he bashfully admitted his feelings to you after a successful robbery was a day you'd never forget.

But was a baby what he wanted? You knew his past, with Eliza and Isaac, and you wouldn't blame him one bit if having a family wasn't something he wanted after such a horrible event. But you couldn't stop that small glimmer of hope in your heart, the small dream of Arthur holding your tiny child in his large arms the same way he'd held you all those cold nights.

Your thoughts came to a halt as he opened the flap to the tent where you sat on his cot, hands in your lap as you stared thinking. "everything all right darlin'?" he asked, a small smile still on his face from the campfire tales. Thought it slightly wavered due to the look on your face. "Hey doll..what's the matter?" He said gently, a juxtaposition to his heavy drawl and gruff voice, whilst sitting next to you. His hands instantly falling to the small of your back as comfort.

You loved Arthur dearly, he was always so observant. Though as outlaws, that was a skill you had to learn. This thought brought you back to your initial worry of whether this baby would grow up safe, be able to live a childhood they'd remember as something nostalgic rather than traumatising.

Arthur stared at you expectantly, his eyes shining with concern as he drew imaginary shapes on the skin at your back. No matter if Arthur and you wanted this baby or not, this was happening and there was no going back now.

"Arthur I need to tell you something and it's serious" You says heavily, your hands coming to rest on his legs to both comfort you and him. You see his eyes shift slightly, the concern only slightly fading to a look of fear. His mind running with ideas as he prepared for the worst.

"I'm pregnant.." you spoke, your chest firm as you held your breath. A part of you wanted to close your eyes and run away to avoid the situation as a whole but you knew for the sake of Arthur and the baby you had to be brave.

You watched as his eyes widened with shock, his hands pausing his gentle movements as he stared at you, his eyes drifting down to the small bump of your stomach before shooting back up to your eyes.

"A-are you serious?" his hands firmer on your back now, almost fearful if he let you go you'd dissappear from his life. You stared back at him, your eyes swelling with tears as the reality of the situation hits you.

He leaps forward, his large arms grabbing your frame and pulling you into his chest, your forehead resting beneath his chin. "oh darlin' I don' know what to say.." his voice shaky, his broad shoulders hitching slightly. Was he crying?

"Arthur, are..you okay?" You question, lifting your head slightly off his chest to stare into his eyes. His gaze soft and loving as he carefully caressed your arms.

"I couldn't be happier"

This is my first Red Dead Redemption 2 post so it's not my best writing but I had this idea in my head and wanted to write it down !<3

#lovettery °•☆#rdr2 #rdr2 fanart #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #female reader #x reader #fluff

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ruewrote · 2 months ago

Text

𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader WARNINGS: no use of y/n GENRE: angst, fluff SONG INSPIRATION: work song by hozier WORD COUNT: 935

navigation | ask | jj maybank masterlist

the darkness pressed in around you. jj laid beneath you, his hair darkened with sweat and dirt, his lips parted as ragged breaths escaped him.

your hands trembled as they pressed against his stomach, warm blood seeping through your fingers.

“no, no, no,” you sobbed, shaking your head violently.

“stay with me, jay. please, stay with me.”

his hand reached up weakly, fingers brushing against your cheek in a light touch. his eyes, those fading eyes, locked onto yours, filled with something soft and heartbreaking.

“it’s okay, baby,” he whispered, his voice so faint you barely heard it over the pounding of your heart.

“you’ll be okay.”

a shuddering breath left his lips. his hand slipped from your face.

and then–.

nothing.

your scream tore through the night as you jolted upright in bed, your chest rising and falling rapidly, soaked in sweat. tears streaked down your cheeks, your hands clutching the sheets so tightly they ached.

the world was spinning, the nightmare’s grip still suffocating, as if you were still there. kneeling over him, helpless, watching the life drain from his eyes.

a sob broke past your lips, and before you could even register anything else, jj was there.

“hey–hey, baby, i’m here,” his voice thick with sleep but laced with urgency, his body moving before his mind could even catch up. the moment he heard your cries, he was wide awake, his hands reaching for you.

strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. his warmth surrounded you, grounding you in the present, but your body still shook uncontrollably, the weight of the nightmare pressing down on you.

you buried your face into him, your fingers grasping at his shirt as if making sure he was real. sobs wracked your frame, they were violent, desperate. “y-you were–” you choked on your words, unable to get them out between the hiccups and gasping breaths.

his heart clenched at the sheer terror in your voice. he shifted slightly, cradling you closer, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head before resting his chin there.

“shhh, i’ve got you. i’ve got you, baby. i’m right here.” his voice was gentle, soothing, even as he felt his own chest tighten at your distress.

his hands moved in slow, comforting patterns. one tracing along your back, the other threading through your hair. the soft scrape of his fingertips against your scalp, the warmth of his touch, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, each sensation wove itself around you. slowly pulling you back to reality.

after what felt like forever, you finally managed to catch your breath, though tears still fell down your cheeks. your heart was still hammering wildly against your ribs, but the worst of the panic had begun to ebb away under his touch.

he leaned back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up with his fingers. the second your tear filled eyes met his, his heart cracked wide open.

“talk to me, baby,” he murmured, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “what happened?”

a shaky breath escaped you. your voice was barely above a whisper. “you died.”

he froze for a second, his breath hitching before he forced himself to push through the sharp pang in his chest. “what?”

“i–i saw it,” you continued, your voice thick with emotion. “you were bleeding out, and i was trying to stop it, but i couldn’t. you just kept–” a choked sob cut you off, he felt his stomach twist at the raw pain in your words.

“oh, baby,” he whispered, pulling you back into him. he rocked you slightly, as if trying to physically erase the memory from your mind. “i’m so sorry you had to see that. but i’m here, okay? i’m here. it wasn’t real.”

“but it felt real,” you admitted, voice breaking. “it felt so real, jay.”

he exhaled sharply, holding you impossibly closer. he hated this. hated seeing you like this, hated that you had felt that kind of loss, even if only in a dream. he knew how nightmares could linger like shadows, clawing at the edges of reality even after waking.

his hand moved up to cradle the back of your head, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “i’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “i swear to you, baby, i’m right here. you’re stuck with me.”

you let out a shaky laugh at that, even as another tear slipped free. he caught it with his thumb, wiping it away gently. “you scared the hell out of me,” you admitted.

jj let out a soft chuckle, though there was nothing amused about the way his heart ached for you. “not nearly as bad as you just scared me,” he murmured. “hearing you cry like that–” he stopped, exhaling through his nose, trying to shake the thought away.

“i’m okay, baby. i’m right here.”

you nodded, even though a part of you still clung to the remnants of the nightmare. but jj was warm, solid, alive. he was here.

he shifted, leaning back against the pillows, taking you with him. his arms remained locked around you, his fingers resuming their slow strokes along your back. “try to sleep, sweetheart,” he whispered against your hair. “i’ll be right here when you wake up.”

you hesitated. “will you stay awake? just for a little bit?”

jj pressed another kiss to your forehead. “as long as you need me to, baby.”

and he did. even as your breathing evened out, even as your body finally relaxed against his, he stayed awake, keeping watch.

watching over you.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

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l0vergirlwrites · 11 months ago

Text

how do i know it’s true? ; steve harrington

synopsis: to steve, nothing involving the upside down could really surprise him after everything the gang & him have gone through… that is until you get taken by vecna—that’s the worst thing steve has ever witnessed.

warnings: swearing, mentions of trauma, mentions of fem!reader having a dead dad, blood & injuries, anxiety, possibility of dying, demonic possession sorta??, general angst & vecna (yes, that creepy dude needs his own warning). but don’t worry, there’s fluff scattered in between.

note: this fic is inspired by the blue nile’s “the downtown lights” (let’s pretend it came out before season 3 plz) & phoebe bridgers’ “garden song”!

for a moment, everything was fine.

well, your definition of fine was watching your friends climb up a makeshift rope of bed sheets from the upside down gate in eddie’s trailer. you couldn’t help but let out a few laughs at their reactions when they landed on the mattress eddie had placed beneath the gate as a landing pad.

this was your normal now; casually going in & out of dimensions to solve supernatural puzzles & attempt to save the day all while wondering if you were ever going to finish your algebra homework (you secretly knew you wouldn’t ever find the time).

steve, being the helpful man he’s known to be, was kneeled on the ground with his hands cupped so he could hoist each person up towards safety despite his abdomen aching in pain from bat bites. he truly was your hero.

when it came to be your turn to climb, you couldn’t help but run a hand through his hair.

“chivalry sure isn’t dead, huh?” you ruffled his locks of brown & amber, feeling your heart beat a second faster when he smiled & scrunched his nose cutely at your action.

“definitely not when it comes to you” he winked smoothly, feeling pride in his chest when you grinned wider at him.

“okay, time to hop on up miss”

gripping onto the rope of sheets, you felt a pit in your stomach start to build, but steve tapping the back of your jean covered thigh snapped you out of it.

“i gotcha, don’t worry” he assured with a determined look in his eyes.

like hell he was ever gonna drop you.

so with a nod of your head, you lifted your left foot onto steve’s cupped hands & felt him push you up.

but then everything went black.

at first, you thought your nervous system may of just forced you to shut your eyes in fear of going head first & falling upside down through the gate (you still could not fathom the physics that explained how it worked), but to no avail, all you saw was black.

soon enough, you couldn’t feel the rope.

you couldn’t hear steve or your friends talking.

you couldn’t feel steve.

now, you were starting to panic.

just as you were about to scream, you felt something sharp on your neck. a long nail dragging across your skin too softly to break the skin. the hairs on your arms stood up, goosebumps littered your body, & all you could do was freeze.

“i think you know why you’re here,” a chilling voice whispered into your right ear, making you cringe as you felt the creatures warm breath fan against your skin.

vecna had you trapped. fuck.

“you know, living with the guilt you’ve harboured for so long must be quite exhausting—isn’t it?”

no, no, no, no. this can’t be happening.

“knowing that if you had kept your mouth shut, your anger controlled, that maybe—just maybe, your father would still be alive”

in a flash you were transported back to that haunted day, back to that road trip that your father forced you to go on. you never had a good relationship with him to begin with, so being stuck in a small space for seven hours wasn’t your ideal way to spend a weekend.

it was a few months after your parents finally divorced after years of fighting, screaming, family dinners that were unsuccessful. your father had wanted to bond, to atone whatever trauma he had inflicted upon you as a young child from refusing marriage counselling (or counselling in general) to work on his behaviour.

but as expected, he was too prideful to admit he was ever in the wrong.

which leads you to that moment in the car.

he blamed you for whatever wrong turn he had made a couple miles back, & since you were the one holding the map, it began a screaming match that festered into a tug of war. you tried to get him to let go of your wrists, to let you lead you both out of the barren forest covered dirt roads so you could ge to wherever the hell he wanted to take you to, but he wouldn’t budge.

however, one wrong move changed it all.

it was when you elbowed him the eye accidentally, causing him to yell in agony & involuntarily push his right foot harder on the gas. he wasn’t paying attention to his speed, nor the way the steering wheel was turning.

one minute you were on a dirt road.

the next you were upside down on a rocky ditch that was at least thirty feet from where the dirt road was.

your vision was blurry with blood from a cut on your forehead. your right ankle aching & smushed tight between your car seat & the concaved passenger door.

your father, who hadn’t worn his seatbelt, was partially through the car’s windshield, body covered in glass & blood & you couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

you stayed like that for hours, with the car alarm blaring in your ears until a first ranger showed up as your saving grace.

but your father didn’t survive. & you still believed it was all your fault.

“wouldn’t it be nice if you could let it go? atone for what you did? stop the guilt from eating away at you?” vecna’s voice boomed in your ears.

you were paralyzed in fear, praying this moment would be over.

*~*~*~***~*~~*~*~**~*~*~~*

“you got a good grip, y/n/n?” steve asked after you stilled for a moment, left foot still in the palms of his hands, waiting to be boosting upwards.

you stayed silent. frozen.

steve called out your name again as your grip loosened on the rope & your body began tipping backwards. he quickly reacted, catching your limp body in time before your head smacked the ground.

his heart stopped when he saw your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“no… no, no, no, no! shit! please, not you—not you” steve yelled, his hands cradling your face & occasionally slapping your cheeks gently with hopes you’d snap out of it—hoping vecna would let you out of his grasp so steve could make it better.

“steve? what’s going on down there?” robin yelled, her voice echoing into steve’s ears but his heart was constricting & his chest felt really heavy.

“he’s got her—he’s fucking got her & she’s not waking up!” steve yelled again, tears brimming his eyes in fear because he could lose you right now.

brushing your hair out of your face frantically, steve continued tapping your skin. “sweetheart, you gotta wake up. it’s steve—i’m right here. can you hear me? c’mon—come back” he croaked as the minutes went on, drowning out the panicked voices in the gate above him.

“what do i do? what do i do—“

“steve! what’s her favourite song? we need her favourite song!” dustin yelled repeatedly, trying to wake steve up from his own panic mode.

it clicked—how could steve forget?

music.

“holy shit. that’s it. favourite song, favourite song…” steve began to feel hopeful, scouring his mind through a rolodex of memories until he found the one he was looking for.

“the downtown lights by the blue nile! the cassette’s in my glovebox! hurry!” he yelled with a heartbroken plea, his eyes not leaving your face. “c’mon, baby. wake up”.

steve didn’t care that he was crying now, but he wasn’t gonna give up on you. while the others were searching through the glove compartment of steve’s b&w & eddie’s stash of cassette tapes in case, steve just started to sing the song in hopes you’d hear him.

“sometimes i walk away, when all i really wanna do is love & hold you right…”

his voice was cracking with nerves, failing to stay completely steady as his chest hurt & his hands were trembling against your skin.

“there is just one thing i can say. nobody loves you this way,” he held back a sob, his heart clenching at how your eyes continued to roll back. “it’s all right. can’t you see, the downtown lights…”

~*~***~~~**~***~*~~***~**~*~

steve learned your favourite song early on when you started dating, around mid october after starcourt fell, where you invited steve over for a sleep over since your mom went out of town for a weekend.

he knew you hated sleeping in your house alone after the events of the summer, so he didn’t mind keeping you company. you both had sprawled out on your living room couch, coffee table filled with pizza, pop, & your favourite treat (which steve picked up on his way over as a surprise). the movie on the tv had become background noise by the time you both had finished eating, bodies turned to one another underneath the blanket you two shared.

“so, when am i gonna get a room tour, hmm?” steve asked as he brushed some hair away from your forehead, fingers tucking some starnes behind your left ear as you looked at him as if he had hung the moon. “got any embarrassing posters on your walls?” he teased, earning a gentle shove into his shoulder.

“shut up. i’ll show you under one condition, harrington”

“i’m all ears” he said eagerly, scooting closer to you on the couch.

nervously, you raised your left index finger to your lips & tapped them, eyes flickering between steve’s brown ones & his pink lips. he watched you closely, getting an idea of what you wanted (which made his stomach roll with butterflies).

“ahhhh” he dragged with realization, “y’want me to kiss you? is that it?” he teased, making you feel smaller than you really were under his gaze.

but before you could turn away or back out, steve was cradling your cheek & bringing you closer to him. his breath fanned your skin, noses lightly brushing against the other.

“i really wanna kiss you too” he mumbled with a smile before leaning further to close the gap.

you hummed in delight when your lips pressed to his, fingers fisting the material of his sweatshirt because it felt so good. steve could hear his heartbeat loud in his ears as he continued to kiss you, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek to make you melt under his touch. the longer his lips meshed with yours, the more your body had moved to practically sit on top of his, chests just touching as your arms trailed up to wrap around his shoulders.

“steve” you breathed, pulling away with a pant but still staying close.

“was that too much?” he asked concerned, chest rising up & down as he looked at you with care.

it was you who kissed him next, one that lasted a few seconds before resting your forehead against his. “no—it was nice” you exhaled with a smile, arms tightening around him when you felt his left hand resting on your lower back, rubbing up & down soothingly.

you both hadn’t realized that the movie was over & the channel had switched over to music videos. playing softly in the background was a song you had a deep spot in your heart for. turning towards the tv with a tiny gasp, you smiled harder when you saw that it was the blue nile.

“that’s my favourite song!” you whispered excitedly, turning back to steve when he tapped your cheek.

“what song is it?” he asked since he hadn’t heard it before.

“the downtown lights” you replied sheepishly.

“there is just one thing i can say. nobody loves you this way,” you hummed along to the lyrics with a small smile.

steve watched you, admiring how your face looked with the tv glow casting on your features. he thought you were just the best thing ever.

turning up the volume with the remote in his hand, steve listened intently to the lyrics, right foot tapping against the carpeted floor to the beat. “it’s sounds pretty—just like you” he said, smiling brightly when you chuckled at him.

“that’s so cliche. but thank you”

“cliche but true. & you’re welcome”

~**~*~~*~***~**~~**~**~

after steve let the memory replay in his mind, the cassette tap for the band’s album landed by his feet with a walkman & a headset.

“finally!” steve yelled more so to himself, brushing away a stray tear on his cheek to grab the items

first he put the headphones over your ears. then he attached the tape to the player & forwarded the tape to the song’s track number. turning the volume up, steve’s hands resumed their spot on your face to hold you, to coax out of the horrific trance you were in.

“hey, can you hear me? it’s steve, your steve. you gotta wake up, okay? you gotta come back to me” he begged, his hope growing thin as the seconds went on.

“everyone’s here—dustin, lucas, max, robin, nancy, eddie—we’re here. we want you back. we need you. i promise i won’t do anymore stupid impressions or be an idiot—i’ll be whatever you want me to be” steve continued to ramble, praying that you were listening, that you were coming home to him.

“i-i love you. & i can’t do this without you” he cried to you, not caring if any of his friends heard his love confession in the moment because you were still limp in his arms.

he could vaguely hear the yells of his friends trying to talk to you too, trying to lead you back to reality. but all steve could focus on were how your eyes continued rolling into the back of your head.

it wasn’t until the song was about to restart on a loop where steve felt your arms twitching, your chest raising up & down rapidly. before he could even blink your eyes returned back to normal, lips letting out panicked breaths as you scanned your surroundings, hands about to push steve’s away until realized it was only him.

“s-steve?” you asked wearily, voice feeling small & fragile after the return to hell you had just experienced. “what… i-i don’t understand…” you were at a loss for words, confused & scared.

“it’s me, honey—i’m right here. it’s okay,” before he could finish, you were hiding your face into his chest, hands gripping the jean jacket he wore so tightly in fear that this was another trick. that maybe you weren’t safe & vecna still had you.

you sobbed hard, breaths becoming strained with each cry that tore through you. every time you closed your eyes, you were back there again—back in that god forsaken car with bloody vision & your father dead. back where vecna told you your worst fears.

“god, i was so worried—ohmygod” steve rambled assurances, cradling your head close like he was in disbelief too, making sure that you were really back in his arms.

the headset was still secured to your head, downtown lights continuing to play from the foamy speakers into your ears. the song calmed you down a bit, made you feel grounded. but it was steve’s touches, the smell of his cologne, & his soft whispers that called you home—back to reality.

“is this real?” your broken voice asked, needing to make sure it was really him.

steve pulled your head back to hold your face in his hands. he smoothed away the sweat, the baby hairs, the tears, & splotches of dirt off your skin, giving you the kindest look you’ve ever been given.

“yeah, i’m real. i’m not gonna hurt you. i gotcha, yeah? won’t let anything hurt you again, i promise” he swore with honour, his own lip trembling when your eyes continued to well up with tears.

leaning into his touch, you sniffled before letting out a breath of relief. “i could hear you calling for me… behind all the music, all i heard was you—you brought me back”

you couldn’t decipher the look on steve’s face at your words, it was filled with too many emotions to list off your tongue at the moment. he just felt immensely lucky that you’re still in one piece & breathing.

“i love you” he pressed his forehead to yours, exhaling a shaky breath when one of your hands pressed against his chest to feel his heartbeat. another reminder that he was really here.

that was the most intimate thing steve’s ever felt.

“i love you too” you mumbled back to him, pulling him in for another bone crushing hug to say all the words you wanted to in the moment.

steve got the message loud & clear.

#steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington is a sweetheart #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #celebrities #joe kerry x reader #joe kerry #joe kerry imagine #joe keery djo #stranger things netflix

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multi-fandom-imagines8 · 19 days ago

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A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 20

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: After a dangerous incident, Y/n and Nesta finally reconcile. Y/n is upset with Azriel for something he did.

WC: 2.6K.

Y/n awoke in the middle of the night with an uneasy feeling, her chest tightening as if something dark and oppressive was pressing down on her. A second later, a piercing scream shattered the silence. Nesta.

Y/n jumped out of bed, her heart pounding as she bolted down the hallway toward her sister’s room. The door was ajar, Azriel had just let go of Cassian, who rushed inside.

“What’s going on?” Y/n demanded, skidding to a stop at the threshold.

Azriel moved before she could step inside, blocking her path. She shoved against him, panic flashing in her eyes, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he held her tightly, restricting her movement.

“Let go of me, Shadowsinger,” she hissed, struggling in his grip, her nails digging into his arms.

“Y/n, it’s too dangerous.” His voice was calm and steady, but there was a tightness beneath it, strained, almost pained. He held her firmly, but never aggressively.

His calm tone only fueled her anger. She struggled harder, but he didn’t release her. His jaw clenched, and his shadows twisted restlessly at his shoulders, as if reflecting the war inside him.

He didn’t want to hold her back. But he couldn’t let her get hurt

Her gaze snapped to Rhysand, who stood over Nesta, his expression a cold mask of focus. Power pulsed around him, his magic tangled around Nesta’s mind, his presence burrowed deep into her thoughts. Cassian knelt at her side, his voice hoarse as he called Nesta’s name, trying to wake her. Trying to relinquish the silver flame.

“DO SOMETHING!” Y/n screamed, her voice raw with desperation.

As the flames began to recede and Nesta’s body relaxed, Azriel slowly released Y/n.

The moment she was free, she shot him a glare, pushed past him and stormed forward, shoving past Cassian and dropping to her knees beside her sister. Her hand grasped Nesta’s tightly, ignoring the males completely.

As the three males began discussing Nesta’s powers, Y/n overheard something Rhys said, something that made her rage snap.

“You fucking bastards,” she spat, rising to her feet. Her hands shook with fury.

Azriel stiffened slightly, but Rhysand turned toward her, unflinching.

“You’d do anything to get your way, wouldn’t you?” she growled, stepping toward them. “You saw what happened the last time she tried to fucking scry. It opened a door and Elain almost died!”

“Elain is safe and guarded,” Rhys replied smoothly, as if it excused everything.

“Nesta wasn’t!” Y/n’s voice trembled with unrestrained rage. “And don’t think for a second I don’t see what you’re doing. You’re manipulating Nesta with Elain, making her do your dirty work. Fucking selfish assholes.”

Rhysand’s expression remained impassive, but his violet eyes darkened. “Nesta is a grown female. She can make her own choices.”

Y/n barked a laugh, cold and humorless. “Is that what helps you sleep at night? Pretending you’re not a selfish prick putting her in danger?”

Cassian looked torn, but before he could speak, Y/n rounded on him. “And you,” she said, jabbing a finger at his chest. “You let it happen.”

Cassian stiffened. He couldn’t even say anything, but guilt flickered in his eyes.

“If something happens to Nesta, I will fucking kill you,” Y/n whispered, every word laced with deadly promise as her gaze flicked to Rhys again. “And I don’t care if I have to release the worst monster in Prythian to do it, because I will,” she threatened, and something in her voice told them she wasn’t bluffing. If Nesta died because of any of them, she’d let the world burn to get her revenge.

Rhys took a slow step towards her, magic coiling behind his eyes, but Azriel stepped between them, silent and steady, blocking Rhys’s path, stopping the tension from escalating. He didn’t speak right away, he just held Rhys’s gaze with quiet intensity. A silent plea. A warning. A reminde.

“We should let Nesta rest,” he said calmly, his voice low and firm.

Rhysand relented, magic fading as he stepped back, his jaw tight. He glanced at Y/n one last time before turning and leaving the room.

Cassian lingered, but Y/n shot him a glare that made him leave without another word.

Once she was alone with Nesta, the guilt hit her, sharp and immediate. For everything she had said to Nesta, for not speaking to her all that time, for pushing her away when she knew that if anyone could understand even a fraction of what she was going through, it was Nesta.

Y/n sat beside her and didn’t move. She fell asleep in the armchair, her hand loosely curled around her sister’s.

When she stirred, Nesta’s fingers were weakly squeezing her own. Y/n’s eyes snapped open. Nesta’s blue-gray eyes were barely open, exhaustion evident in every inch of her pale face.

“Hey,” Y/n greeted softly, sitting up immediately, her grip tightening slightly.

“Hey,” Nesta echoed in a raspy voice.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Nesta lied.

Y/n sighed. “I- I know this is probably not a good time, but there’s never going to be a better one. And after last night, I can’t let things stay this way between us. I’m sorry I left you when you needed me the most. I’m sorry that I was cruel to you, that I pushed you away, that I-” Her voice wavered, but forced herself to go on. “That I took the guilt you felt and used it against you. I’m sorry for everything, Nesta.”

Nesta blinked slowly. Then, in a voice quieter than Y/n had ever heard from her, she murmured, “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to call you a coward. You’re the bravest person I know. And… I didn’t mean what I said about Father.”

Y/n’s chest constricted, her eyes darting away. “That part is true.”

“It’s not,” Nesta insisted, shaking her head slightly. She braced her hands on either side of the bed, forcing herself to sit up. “Hey, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have saved him.”

“I could have,” Y/n whispered. “If I used my damned powers, they’d still be here.”

Nesta’s face softened. “You couldn’t. You tried. I saw you.”

Y/n clenched her jaw. “If I had just trained more with-”

“No,” Nesta cut in firmly. “Even Amren didn’t know how to help you. She tried, remember?”

Y/n took a shaky breath, her throat burning. “I just- can we please not talk about that?” she pleaded. “Can you- can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Nesta let out a breath. “Just promise me we won’t fight again.”

Y/n huffed a small laugh. “I promise I’ll try my best.”

Nesta opened her arms and pulled her sister into a tight embrace. Y/n hesitated for a moment before wrapping her arms around her gently. They held onto each other for a long moment- Mother knows they both needed it. A long, comforting hug.

Now that they were back on good terms, neither Cassian nor the world were ready for them. May the mother help him.

Then Nesta sighed. “I’m going to attempt scrying again.”

Y/n pulled back. “You can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

Nesta met her gaze. “I know, but I won’t let fear or the Cauldron stop me.”

“You do know they’re using you, right?” Y/n’s voice was edged with bitterness.

Nesta exhaled. “I know. But if I don’t do it, Elain will.”

“Maybe she should. Why is it always us?”

Nesta’s brows shot up. “What happened to you? This is Elain we’re talking about.”

Y/n laughed bitterly. “Elain is a traitorous bitch. When she saw how comfortable this life could be, when she saw an opportunity to belong here, she took it and turned on us, her own fucking sisters. And for what?” A bitter smirk curled her lips. “A new family? And two new sisters? How fitting.”

“I mean I’m mad at Elain, but you’re-”

“Furious?” Y/n arched a brow. “Disappointed? Shocked? All of the above?”

“And hurt,” Nesta added carefully.

Y/n’s jaw tightened. “She can do whatever she wants. I’m done trying to protect her and she clearly doesn’t need me anymore.”

Nesta was silent for a moment before nudging her playfully. “You said that about me. And now look at us.”

“That’s because you’re my favorite sister,” Y/n shot back smoothly.

Nesta laughed quietly, shaking her head. “You really have changed. Back then, you’d never admit that out loud.”

Y/n shrugged. “Well, now I’m free. Unfortunately, not in the physical sense but you get what I mean.”

“Uh oh,” Nesta muttered. “Does that mean you’re going to be an even colder, heartless bitch to everyone now?”

“Already am.” Y/n flipped her hair with mock pride.

“Not to me though.”

“Shh, don’t expose my weakness,” Y/n joked.

“I see you ladies have made up.” Cassian’s voice broke the moment as he stepped into the room, carrying a tray full of food. His eyes flicked between Nesta and Y/n, his usual smug grin in place. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

Y/n glared at him, lips pursing slightly before she stood. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

Although she did not necessarily like Cassian, she knew he cared about Nesta and wanted to give him a moment with her alone, just this once. Little did she know what fate had in store for them next.

Cassian raised a brow at her, as if surprised by her sudden willingness to give him and Nesta a private moment. But he didn’t question it.

Y/n cast one last glance at her sister before stepping out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

—

“I want you with me,” Nesta said, attempting to convince Y/n to accompany her to the River House for an attempt at scrying.

Y/n sighed heavily, arms crossed over her chest. “Fine, I’ll go. If only to support you while being surrounded by those vultures. Just know I still don’t like this idea.”

Going to the house meant Azriel would be the one taking her. She hadn’t spoken to him since that night- the night he held her back when Nesta was in danger. She hadn’t gone to train with him either.

A part of her knew he had done it because he cared about her. Because he didn’t want her running into something dangerous. But another part, the louder part of her, knew that he stopped her in case Rhysand decided to take drastic measures. And for that, she was angry at him.

Just because he was their High Lord didn’t mean Rhys was always right. And it certainly didn’t mean they had to stand by him when he was in the wrong… which lately, he often was.

Azriel was waiting on the roof, his wings folded neatly behind him, his expression unreadable as ever. “Ready to go?” he asked, extending his scarred hand to her.

She hesitated, just for a breath, before gripping it. But not before giving him a sharp, sour look.

As they took off into the brisk air, Azriel held her close, ensuring she wouldn’t slip from his grip as they soared high above Velaris. Halfway through the flight, his low voice cut through the wind.

“Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t want to talk to you. Can we just fly in silence?” Her voice was flat.

Azriel, however, wasn’t deterred. “But I want to talk to you.”

She rolled her eyes and looked away, refusing to meet his gaze.

Azriel leaned in slightly, his breath brushing her ear. “You know, when someone is holding your life in their hands, it’s not the best time to provoke them,” he teased.

Y/n arched a brow, pulling back slightly to glare at him. “So you’re going to drop me if I do?”

Azriel smirked faintly. “Possibly.”

Her expression didn’t waver. “Then do it, I don’t care.”

He stared at her, clearly unimpressed by her challenge. He only slightly loosened his grip on her, but she didn’t flinch. Somehow, she knew he’d never put her in harm’s way, no matter what she said or did.

“You seem to be struggling. Need some assistance?” she quipped, pressing her palms against his chest in an attempt to push herself away from him. He instantly tightened his hold around her waist, pulling her even closer.

“Are you really this mad at me, you’d rather fall than talk to me?”

“At least the fall would be more pleasant,” she shot back with a bitter smile.

Azriel let out a quiet exhale, shaking his head. His voice returned to that cool, neutral tone. “I assure you, it would not.”

When they finally flew past the ward line, he winnowed them to the River House. They arrived before Cassian and Nesta, though Azriel could’ve brought all of them at once. Cassian had insisted on flying Nesta, probably for the sake of a few extra quiet moments alone.

Y/n stepped away from Azriel the second they landed, dusting off her clothes as if trying to rid herself of his touch.

Azriel noted it, but said nothing. Instead, he simply walked toward the door. But when he reached the knob, he paused, glancing back to see she hadn’t moved.

“You’re not coming in?”

Her eyes glittered with something cold. “And be alone in the same room with the judgemental pricks you call friends?” she scoffed. “No thanks. I’ll wait for Nesta. She’s the only reason I’m here.”

Azriel ran a hand through his hair before turning to face her fully. “So… you finally made up?” he asked, already knowing the answer but still attempting to keep the conversation going.

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “As if you didn’t know that.” She gestured vaguely at him. “I know your shadows keep you updated on everything. Those little busybodies.”

Azriel huffed a quiet laugh. “It is their job… and mine.”

“Yes, yes, Spymaster and all. Blah, blah, blah,” she muttered bitterly.

He hesitated before speaking again, “If this is about what happened the night Nesta-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

His lips pressed together, but he didn’t push. Instead, he exhaled through his nose. “Then what can I do to make you talk to me again?”

Y/n arched a brow at him, tilting her head slightly. “Maybe there’s nothing you can do. And maybe I never want to talk to you again.”

Azriel’s expression remained unreadable. “You’re talking to me now.”

She glared at him and turned away, arms crossing tightly over her chest.

A long pause. Then, softer this time, he pleaded, “Come on. Tell me how to make it up to you. Anything you want.”

Her brow rose. “Anything?”

“Anything,” he confirmed.

“Are you sure?” she mused, a smirk playing at her lips.

He simply nodded.

“I want to get out of the house,” she finally said. “And not to another one of your High Lord’s fancy estates.”

He nodded once more. “Alright. I’ll take you out tonight, but you can’t tell anyone.”

Her smirk widened into a grin. “Oh? Would you be breaking the rules?”

Azriel gave her a warning look. “I would. And I’d get in trouble if we’re caught.”

Her grin turned wicked. But before she could respond, he added, catching the gleam in her eyes and the grin, “Don’t get any ideas. I thought this is what you wanted.”

“It is,” she said. “But I’m still debating what would be more fun; a bit of freedom… or watching you get in trouble.” She tapped a finger to her chin, feigning deep thought.

Azriel studied her for a moment,then shook his head. “You really are a troublemaker, aren’t you?”

She shrugged, that mischievous glint still dancing in her eyes. He sighed, rolling his eyes. This female was really going to get him in trouble, and this wasn’t just about today. But she was the only kind of trouble he didn’t mind.

Tags: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllita @nebarious @t0uch-starved-h0e @bravo-delta-eccho @sylvermoon @going-through-shit @latinxbipride @i-am-infinite @azrielrot @fuckingsimp4azriel @theravenphoenix26 @hanatsuki-hime @fantanbietsson @rcarbo1 @weasleymagic @secretsicanthideanymore @spymaster03 @elaselat @minnieoo @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @daughterofthemoons-stuff @jojodojo02 @questionmymentality @romantasyreader28 @cassie-at-college-blog @dabiloverphoenix @hippop345 @fan-of-many-bands @freefalls06-blog @yesiamthatwierd @ms-dont-care @wxveysun @ashjade19 @jennigsonl

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humanitys-strongest-brat · 8 months ago

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Kintsugi - ch. 1

Summary: After an injury causes you to lose your spot in the World Figure Skating Championship your last hope falls into the hands of Levi Ackerman, a former Olympic competitor.

Pairing: Coach!Levi x Injured fem!Reader

CW: Injury, major themes of depression and hopelessness. 18+ mdni

wc: 3.2k

a/n: Starting off with a huge thank you to @tobbi-loves-levi for helping me throughout the process of making this fic and always listening to me yap about my ideas. This is my first chaptered fanfic and I'm very excited to share it~

dedicated song - dividers 1/2 - masterlist

You cry out as your hip collides with the ground. Rolling into a sitting position you pull your left leg up by the knee. Just resting your blade on the ice sends another shock of pain through your ankle and up your leg. You let out a hiss and squeeze your eyes shut.

You refuse to believe it, deep down you know you just sustained a serious injury. You tell yourself it's not that bad.

get up.

walk it off.

Come on.

Your breathing staggers as you twist your body and pull yourself into a kneel, your good foot anchoring on the ice ready to stand back up. The pain is excruciating.

“Stay Down!” your coach shouts as she races towards you. “Sit back down.” She demands, and you listen, carefully pulling your weight onto your left hip, carefully settling back down onto the ice.

Coach Tarasov bends down, instructing you to extend your leg out. When you do she carefully applies light pressure to your boot, only nudging it a little to confirm her fears. Your hand immediately flies over your mouth, you curse and wince in pain. “Not good,” She breathes out “Let’s get you up and off the ice” she says, her voice stern and serious, you know now that it’s really bad, you don't want to believe it.

“Coach,” your lip quivers as you look up at her, you feel destroyed. Panic fills your body and your throat is burning. “...Worlds-” Part of you is humiliated. Sure, you’ve cried in front of Coach Tarasov before; during long sessions that never seemed to end, practicing jumps you couldn't land no matter how many times you tried, watching your peers excel on your bad days. This was different.

This was devastating.

Mid February, four weeks before the World Figure Skating Championship. It was just like any other practice. today you were doing triple toe loops and landed wrong.

You can’t contain your sobs as your coach helps you up. She urges you to hold your foot up while she pulls you to the rink’s exit. When you finally sit down on the bench you notice how tight your boot feels. Holding back your sobs causes you to shake as Coach Tarasov kneels in front of you to untie your skate. “I’m just going to look at it.” She tries to sound comforting, but you can hear the disappointment that laces her words, the acceptance in her tone. Like she knew you were done right then and there without even seeing it.

Your panicked sob catches in your throat as she pulls the boot off, every surge of pain was just as bad as the last. You can't look, you keep your eyes on your coach. When she peels back your nylon sock she stops and stares for a second before letting out a sigh and dropping her head down in defeat. “You need an X-ray,” she says plainly, only confirming your worst fear. “You can't drive, I'll call an ambulance.” she leans back and requests an ice pack from the rink employee standing over the two of you, observing. You're only just now noticing he was there.

“Stay calm, we don't know anything yet.” You know she's lying. You pick your head up and see your fellow competitors have stopped to watch. Most look shocked, some seem to be showing pity. You lock eyes with your friend and fellow contestant Mikasa Ackerman, her eyes well with tears as she watches you. That’s when you finally accept that your dreams are ruined.

***

You stare up at the blinding lights of the emergency room ceiling, waiting for the results the X-ray ordered to rule out a fracture. Arms folded over your chest, you simmer in the acceptance that everything you worked for your whole life is gone.

This was your first year qualifying and being invited to participate in the World Championship, you knew after your performances in the Grand Prix and Nationals that you had secured your place and a chance to take gold at Worlds. Competitive skaters everywhere spend their lives training and competing for the chance to get where you were, just as you had, only for one accident to take it all away from you and hand it off to the next person.

You blink back more tears, easily warding them off since the initial shock of everything drained you. The uncertainty of your career plagued your mind. The excitement and determination to compete was gone, replaced with the dread of agonizing failure. All you wanted to do was go home and sulk. An apartment you rented in the city chosen to host this season’s training sessions with a handful of competitors. Everything reminded you of your loss, even the place designed for you to decompress at the end of the day, your apartment was a representation of the things you endured and achieved to make it to the World Championship to begin with, now it’s just a roof over your head to house you while you heal and watch your dreams slip through your fingers like sand. You're wiping away tears with the sleeve of your shirt as the doctor enters the room.

He strides into the room, greeting you as he pinned your X-ray up and flicked the light on to illuminate the image. You pull yourself upright on the bed, even in this moment your chest fills with hope for good news. “It’s not fractured,” he says, pulling a pen from his breast pocket. You sigh out in relief. A fracture or break was the worst case scenario, and at least you’re safe from that. He lifts his arm, extending his pen out to the board and pointing at the areas of your ankle with speckled white spots “what you’re looking at is a grade two moderate ankle sprain, you have some torn ligaments” he explains, slowly circling his pen over the white spots highlighted by the bright glow behind the picture. “Based on your X-Ray, swelling, and pain level at intake, we’ll have you in a boot for two to four weeks.” Your heart sinks again, it’s not like you forgot that this injury took something from you, but you got excited too fast hearing it wasn’t as bad as you originally feared. You listen and nod as he goes through the details of the first phase of healing, just as you imagined, stay off of it, never put pressure on it, keep it iced and elevated. “After the boot comes off, you’ll start immediately with physical therapy. They will determine when you have the green light to return to your usual activities.”

You stare at him, feeling it all come back. “Physical therapy? Isn’t that a little intense for just a sprain?” You plead, your voice shaking again.

He points again to your X-ray, and those damned white streaks on your ankle. “This is not an injury to be taken lightly, I strongly recommend you stick to your treatment plan to prevent possible irreversible damage. Especially as an athlete.” He warns.

You get your boot, and you’re promptly discharged and wheeled out to coach Tarasov’s car. They help you into the passenger seat and that’s it. You’re left to face this all on your own now.

Before you leave, you hand coach your discharge documents and lean your head on the window. The sound of the pages turning as she skims through sends pangs straight to your chest. She rests a hand on your shoulder but you refuse to face her. “I’ll make the calls, I need copies of this and your X-rays” she said with caution.

You cried the entire drive home.

***

The three weeks of recovery before you’re cleared to take the boot off could be described as nothing less than hell. You barely left your bed for the first five days, you ignored calls, you didn’t take care of yourself. Your parents found out online, you only answered their persistent calls so they would stop worrying. Days started blending together quickly, when you weren’t crying you felt nothing, even your phone proved itself a shitty distraction. Your name was everywhere, the news of your injury and drop from the championship chased you on every app you used.

After a week you deleted all your social media.

The start of the second week it dawned on you that the competition was just over two weeks away, and you wouldn’t be there. It made you sick to even think about watching it and keeping up with the scores. Several times a day you wonder how you would have done had your injury never happened. Would you have taken gold? Thinking on it now, if you knew this was the alternative you would have been happy to place at all, just to be there. You took it all for granted, high on success.

At the end of the third week, you’re out of the boot and booked to start physical therapy, just this week you started eating and taking care of yourself again, you leave the blinds and windows open to let in some fresh air. Every step you take still reminds you of what you could’ve had, you walk with a limp.

***

You decide to watch the Women’s singles program only, anything more would have only twisted the knife. You watch with a bottle of wine and a box of tissues.

You feel genuinely happy to watch Mikasa perform, part of you was living through her as you watched. Mostly you’re happy she gets to experience this for herself, you know how much it means to her.

She placed 6th overall, you cried tears of joy for her.

***

You’re given an estimate of eight to twelve weeks of physical therapy. when you do the math, you can’t hold back your grin. Even the longest course of recovery would have you back on ice just in time for the start of the next skating season. You decide right then that you’ll be back on the ice competing in next year's World Championship no matter what it took.

Mid April you finish the first phase of physical therapy, three weeks of balance training taking a decent chunk of confidence from you. to put it bluntly, it was horrible. The pain was almost completely gone, it only hurt during specific exercises. Your balance was abysmal, any added weight beyond walking had your ankle shaking. You knew you could do it, you just had to make it past this part.

Early May, during strength training with your physical therapist, your phone buzzes in your pocket. After your program you excuse yourself for a much needed break and check your phone to see a text from Mikasa, you catch yourself smiling. It’s been weeks since anyone reached out to you.

Mikasa ⛸️💨

“Been too long, I miss you! Free for a quick lunch today?”

You can barely contain your happiness, it shocks you how quickly you text back, letting her know what time you’d be available, and to your surprise it works out. You agree on a location and after your session you rush home to get ready, taking extra time to ensure you don’t look like a husk of your former self when you see her for the first time in over two months.

When you approach her at the table, she stands up and immediately pulls you into a tight hug, gripping your shirt in her fists as she squeezes. You congratulate her on her placement in the championship and quickly you’re catching up on everything the two of you missed during your time apart.

“So, how’s that going?” Mikasa asks about your physical therapy after you mention that you're about half way through, almost cleared to begin off-ice sport specific exercises.

You look down, biting your lip before you respond “honestly? Not well.” You begin explaining how you’ve felt the past couple of weeks, even mentioning that you decided to return to competitive skating this upcoming July. “It doesn't feel like it’s enough. My ankle is still shit, it’s enough to gain back mobility but I can tell I’m not where I need to be.” Your voice shakes a little. Mikasa is a wonderful listener, she never breaks eye contact or interrupts, she lets you unload all your grief. “I know I can do better, they won’t let me push myself, my home based exercises are strict.” You explain.

Mikasa doesn’t say much, and that’s okay, you were happy just to be here with her after weeks of seclusion, only leaving your apartment for physical therapy. It took weight off your shoulders to talk with someone about what you were going through, and no one could understand you better in this moment than Mikasa.

When your lunch arrives the conversation dulls down to casual pleasant tidbits of information of Mikasa’s life post competition, eventually she tells you that she’s recompeting herself. You couldn’t be more happy for her.

Somewhere in the endless chatting you can tell something is on her mind, she detaches from the conversation a couple times, staring down at the table before snapping out of it and apologizing. Eventually she excuses herself. “Sorry, I’ll be right back” she promises and makes her way outside. Your brows stay knit as you crane your body to watch her walk out until she’s just out of view. You sigh when you turn back, that was definitely odd, but you decide maybe it’s best not to press when she comes back.

She’s gone for no longer than five minutes, when she sits back down it’s like nothing was ever bothering her to begin with. You’re tempted to ask but it couldn’t be too bad if she looked this relieved coming back. The two of you finish your meals and send your bills off to be paid, she grins at you from across the table.

“What?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

Mikasa quickly reaches in her bag, grabbing her planner and pen from the bottom and dropping it on the table, she quickly flips to one of the back pages and scribbles something down fast. “Here.” She says, ripping the sheet from its binding and sliding it across the table towards you.

You raise a brow and stare at the page that’s text side down. After a moment you finally bite “what is this?” You ask, pulling it towards you and lifting it up, looking back towards Mikasa.

“My cousin is a rehabilitation coach,” she begins, letting her excitement take over. “For competitive figure skaters. He agreed to work with you for me.”

You have no words, you just blink at her. When you finally take a quick glance at the page you notice a phone number and email address written across the page “Mikasa, this is..” you don’t know how to feel, this came up so quick “I don’t know-.. I appreciate-“

She cuts you off “Please take the offer, I insist. He has an opening.” She says “Levi’s great, high success rate. I can get you more information if you need it.”

Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach “Levi..Ackerman..?” you breathe out, now staring down at the paper in your hands. You should have known he was related to Mikasa. Hell, you don’t even know why you never thought about it to begin with. They share the same last name. “He was injured at the Olympics all those years ago.” you think aloud, unable to take your eyes off the page.

“That’s the one,” Mikasa beams “and he doesn’t like to talk about it. So maybe don’t start with that when you call him later.”

You look up from the page at Mikasa “I don’t know what to say.” Truthfully you didn’t even know rehabilitation coaches even existed, your current coach and physical therapist never mentioned that as an option.

“Don’t say anything. Just call him later, and tell me how that goes.” Her voice was firm, but her eyes were nothing but gentle.

When the two of you eventually get up and walk out together you stop in the parking lot to give Mikasa one final hug before you split again. “Thank you so much.” you whisper.

“Don’t mention it,” she replies, pulling back and letting her hands rest just above your elbows, “and don’t be a stranger anymore.”

***

When you arrive home, you catch yourself staring down at the contact information that was given to you. Nervousness didn’t even begin to describe how you felt. This wasn’t just any coach, or another physical therapist. It was Levi Ackerman. He was a part of the best figure skating pairs, finally making it to The Olympics with his partner before the accident.

You haven’t even come close to a skating rink since nearly breaking your ankle almost three months ago now. Working with a rehabilitation coach to get to your previous level of skating wasn’t even a fleeting thought. Hell, you didn’t even know those kinds of coaches existed until today. What if you were just wasting his time? Surely a coach like him is a privilege, right? Letting your nerves get the best of you, the contact info sits idly on your bedside table as you drift off into a world of ice and gold medals.

***

The next morning, your dream fresh in your mind, you grab the contact from your nightstand. Ignoring the blaring anxiety, you dial the number without too much thought. The more you think about it, the more inviting backing out feels. The dial tone sounds, causing you to begin pacing your apartment. No more blaming the injury, no more blaming the physical therapy program. You couldn’t just keep sitting around, wondering about the what ifs when you were handed a golden ticket. You’d be crazy to pass this up, even if it was just a chance.

“Took you long enough.” A rich warm voice answers the phone, stopping you dead in your tracks in the kitchen. How the hell did he even know it was you? How were you even meant to respond to a greeting like that anyway. “I was beginning to think you changed your mind.” He states

“Uh, no.” You reply quickly, tapping your fingers on the kitchen counter to give your free hand something to do. “No I didn’t change my mind, I’m interested.” you cursed yourself, trying to sound so formal. This was the type of thing coach Tarasov always took care of, you were completely out of your element.

“Great,” he says, you have trouble reading his tone but you try not to think too much of it. Over the phone you hear a series of keyboard clicks and your phone buzzes against your ear “I sent a couple things to your email,” did Mikasa already give him your information? “Go ahead and authorize your physical therapy records over, send me copies of your X-rays and prescribed treatment plan, and sign the following documents.” He lists off “after that, I’ll work up a schedule compatible with your PT, I’ll be in contact.”

If you were nervous before there wasn’t a word to describe how you feel now. “Thank you, I look forward to working with you.”

“Have a nice day.” he says in the same tone, your phone beeps to indicate the call has ended.

Taglist: @amywritesthings @littlerequiem @humanitys-strongest-bamf @hideandgopeep (please let me know if i missed you and ill add you on to ch 2)

#levi ackerman #captain levi #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x fem!reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x reader #tw: injury #tw: depression #fic: Kintsugi

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