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inzaynety · 1 year ago

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investigation: start! ⤫

➢ summary: when visiting the third division, there’s never a shortage of questions and confusion about you. a few take it upon themselves to get to the bottom of it.

➢ content: hoshina x fem!reader, 2574 words, nosy officers, jealous hoshina, suggestive at the end, iharu has a crush on you, slight spoilers for the manga for certain instances to make the plans make sense but it’s vague

➢ notes: i was reading thru character profiles and it made writing this a little easier w the interactions 🫡 hope u enjoy

prequel - pt. 1 of slice & dice - pt. 2

The lives of the higher-ups were always a topic of discussion for the members of the defense force. If anything, it seemed to be entertainment and gossip to exchange and bond over between divisions. One of the hot topics includes Commander Ashiro’s childhood, courtesy of Kafka.

The only person they couldn’t get anything on was their own Vice-Commander. He was already an enigma himself with that cheerful yet unsettling grin, and they were all witnesses to the receiving end of his narrowed stares during training. The most they could get out of him was a boisterous laugh that shared nothing. They were getting bored.

But with boredom comes the urge to seek new things. And in this case, dirt on Vice-Commander Hoshina.

There wasn’t much they could see initially–until you came along.

Now, you weren’t an uncommon sight for the Third Division officers. They would see you hanging around Okonogi or eyeing a few of the new officers during training with an intense gaze that they didn’t know if they should feel flattered or intimidated. Most of the time, however, you were in close proximity to Hoshina. During division meetings, the officers never saw a day without the two of you conversing in some way whether it be through words or standing right next to each other. There was no blatant physical contact but the distance between you two was a little odd to say the least.

So some took it upon themselves to start a mission.

Kikoru would never voice her true intentions out loud but it was clear that she was as invested as her companions were if her constant questions about the matter said anything about it. She was influenced by her close peers and their enthusiasm definitely fed that.

Reno didn’t want anything to do with it… at first. He changed his mind after only an hour and he thinks it’s due to spending too much time with a certain someone who loved entertainment. Iharu sneezes in the distance.

Kafka was simultaneously wanting to join the younger members in their antics, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk another week of pushups. While he would admit that his arms were tougher, those exercises reminded him of the embarrassment every time he miscalled his commander. But the thought of having some knowledge about Hoshina was interesting, to say the least.

It seemed they were all bored overall.

Ultimately, they all decided to make a plan and figure it out separately. Your division was visiting for a week and reconvening would wait until the weekend. It was time to investigate.

Minase was the one to kick it off, prompting her fellow members to gain more confidence. It all started with an innocent encounter in the operations room when she, Kikoru, and Hakua passed by.

There were voices inside but the most prominent ones were yours and Hoshina’s. The Vice-Commander was a little surprised to see them when they intercepted at the door but it is quickly masked when you step out, a hint of a smile on your face possibly due to the joke he told you only moments before.

“Now, what’re you three doin’ here?” The Vice-Commander asks, hands in his pockets while you stand slightly behind him with your head tilted.

Minase always had a good ear being a great listener for her peers and was able to hear what he had said to you. It was a flirty quip, but not enough to not be told to a close friend. Upon seeing that she had caught both of your attention, she smiles.

“Good afternoon!” You greet her as well but a silence falls over you five. It’s a bit awkward–Kikoru side-eyes her friend to see what the whole stopping and rushing over here was for, but Minase had a plan already set. “We were actually looking for you, Commander,” she looks directly at you and you raise a brow at the implication of her tone.

“Oh?” You take a step forward. “What for?”

“Some training tips, is all. After the last session you gave us, it motivated us to work on our blade work even more!” Like Hoshina, your preferred way of fighting had nothing to do with the guns everyone else used. You hum in acknowledgement.

The Third was full of promising new officers and it would be a waste to not help them hone their skills even more. But you were sure Hoshina was pushing them enough with his own swordsmanship. You even learned a lot from him yourself.

Hakua stifles a choked sound when Minase elbows her gently, not expecting to be put on the spot just like that. And despite already being told of their group’s plan beforehand and having her outgoing personality, it was still a nerve-racking request.

“Y-Yeah! You seem close to Commander Narumi so we thought you guys would have similar fighting styles.” In your head, you think they’re referring to how he’s the strongest and anyone would want to learn from the best of the best. Gen wasn’t the easiest to get a hold of and you felt flattered they would ask you directly, so of course you would help out.

On the side, Kikoru is tasked with watching the Vice-Commander. Not all reactions were verbal and she was the most observant of the three, but she couldn’t maintain her eyes on him the whole time lest he get suspicious.

But now she thinks her eyes have deceived her. At the mention of Commander Narumi, Hoshina’s eyes peek open. She sees how they darken more as Hakua talks about your fighting styles but just like his initial surprise earlier, that expression left as quickly as it came.

She tucks that away.

Vice-Commander Hoshina had his “Kaiju killing eyes” at the mention of Commander Narumi. Don’t know what that could mean. - Kikoru

That’s jealousy! - Minase

Now you see what I mean about his eyes?? - Kafka

Iharu was infatuated with you from the get-go, though you would say that his first inspiration was Commander Ashiro. Saving him that day was what began his journey into the Defense Force, but it was you who motivated him to alter his fighting style to keep up with Reno.

Speaking of the latter, he was sitting beside him in the cafeteria as the two tried to think of a plan for their part. They caught wind that Kikoru’s group got a promising lead and it was up to the rest to solidify it. But they’ve been stuck for the past hour trying to come up with their own thing and asking for training would be a stolen idea.

Reno watches as more and more officers walk into the shared area and grab their meals from the line. They’re a mix of your division and the Third Division members conversing among themselves and he immediately sits up with his idea. Iharu turns his head in surprise to find Reno’s attention already turned to him.

“What? Got an idea?” Reno nods fervently and brings both of their heads down to speak more quietly. Iharu raises his brows at the proposal and his cheeks turn pink. He’s outspoken, yeah, and confident, sure, but this was you.

His friend pleads with him. He relents.

It’s not too long before you step into the cafeteria with the goal of lunch like everyone else. Spending time with Okonogi was great and all but she fried your brain with data only she and your Operations Leader Sora could keep up with. This was grounds for a well-deserved meal before your joint training session as well.

Iharu watches as you get in line and as he stands up to line up behind you, and like Reno predicted as you grab your tray, you see the officer. To his and Iharu’s surprise, you greet him first.

“Officer Furuhashi, right?” You ask after grabbing your tray. There’s a bright look on your face at the excitement of seeing the man who impressed your previous Commander. He shakily nods and you smile in response. “Commander Ogata said a lot of things about you.”

Iharu lets out a polite chuckle. “All good things, I hope?” He gets a laugh out of you and you both fall into a comfortable conversation as you move down the line. Reno watches the door and he hopes the timing works out, or Plan B would have to be used. At least Iharu was having a good time.

It’s when the two of you reach the end of the line and walk towards Reno’s table does Hoshina appear from the doorway. The red-haired officer doesn’t see him yet and your conversation is at the point when you have a hand on his arm as you’re gushing over his newfound ability with his Kaiju suit. He feels a strong hand clamp down on his shoulder and Iharu freezes, looking to his side to see his Vice-Commander.

“Vice–”

“Afternoon, Officer Furuhashi. Whatcha two talkin’ about?” By then your hand still hasn’t left his arm and he feels Hoshina’s grip get tighter. Iharu places his tray down onto the nearest table and your hand drops to your side but you didn’t notice.

“His new ability,” you answer, “we were talking about it earlier with the operations team, remember? I was just looking for you, Officer Furuhashi, I’m so glad I got to talk to you.” Your answer is so sincere and he feels like he could melt right then and there. But to the side of him, there was also a strange sensation in the air.

It was akin to bloodlust.

“The same here.” Iharu answers and bows, “Please, enjoy your lunchtime.” Before you can say anything more, he turns on his heel straight towards Reno with his head down.

The two sit there in silence as you look on in confusion before Hoshina pulls you along with him for his lunch. They aren’t looking at the two of you but Reno already got what he needed.

Vice-Commander Hoshina almost broke Furuhashi’s shoulder. I saw he also had one of his blades behind him while they were all talking. - Reno

WHAT?? - Iharu

By the way, what was plan B? - Kikoru

Iharu asks her directly if she’s dating the Vice-Commander. - Reno

HELLO?? - Iharu

Hi. - Kafka

Kafka knew he was going to be the last of the bunch to get this done. The digital community board on their group chat was a smart idea by Minase and he was able to see what the younger officers were trying to do with this mission.

Kikoru and her friends got the first response but it needed more. Reno and Iharu got the “more” and all-in-all needed one final piece to set the puzzle. Kafka was proud of them but was currently in a situation with absolutely no idea as to what he was going to do. He thought that was more than enough to assume there was a relationship between the two of you, but Kikoru kicked him for that, too.

Was there any way to get you to confess about it? He thought about asking you directly but even though you were younger than him, you still held a higher title. And he didn’t want to face the potential wrath you could unleash for asking such a question. Were you the type to dish out punishments like the Vice-Commander? Again, he didn’t want to risk it.

He had to do it soon too, you and your division were leaving in the morning and it would be another month or so before you and Hoshina would be seen in the same vicinity.

Kafka sighs and runs a hand through his hair. This was troublesome but they were counting on him.

He looks around the library he’s doing his nightly study session and sees that the time is very close to midnight. He’s shocked and now there’s absolutely no way he’s going to catch you at this hour, not unless you were training anyway. His best bet was to find you early in the morning but even that was a bit of a gamble.

Deciding on his defeat, Kafka puts his books and pens away before heading out into the hallway back to his room. He gets a sense of deja vu when he sees the light of the training room still on and assumes it’s the Vice-Commander again, and it wouldn’t hurt to watch him in action, right?

He walks up to the slightly open door and stops in his tracks at the sight. Both you and Hoshina were holding blades. Your’s were slightly longer and his were the typical ones he used during outside missions. Needless to say, they were the real deal.

In the blink of an eye, you’re lunging towards each other and Kafka thinks if he blinks even once, he’d miss about five slashes shared between you two. Following Hoshina alone was already too much but watching someone match his speed? It was out of this world.

The match only lasts for about half a minute, ending with a knife to both of your throats from the other. A moment of heavy breathing follows before you groan and toss your head back in exasperation, both of you simultaneously lowering your weapons.

“I still can’t get that last one right!”

“It was close! And hey, ya got the blade to my neck.”

“I always get the blade to your neck.” You roll your eyes. Hoshina was the best swordsman there was and it was incomparable to your personal weapon, so of course he would be better than you at it. ‘Whatever, I’m heading to bed.” Hoshina lets out a laugh. You put away the practice weapons and as you head to the door, Hoshina pulls you back to him by your wrist.

“Wait a second,” he says and leans his head down to yours.

Kafka, in the meantime, ducked his head to avoid being seen at least a little longer knowing he was not running away to hide in time. There aren't any more words being exchanged and he thinks there’s something else going on in that small bit of silence.

He pops his head up and makes eye contact with Hoshina’s open eye.

Got pushups. - Kafka

Damn. Sorry old man. - Iharu

So you got caught? Amateur. - Kikoru

Leave me alone! I tried. - Kafka

So you really didn’t see anything? - Reno

Oh, yeah. They kissed. - Kafka

…

What? - Kikoru

I got caught by the Vice-Commander. Scared me. :(- Kafka

…

HUH?? - Kikoru

Bonus:

After Kafka leaves, his head hung low at the premonition of more punishment, your arms stay on Hoshina’s shoulders.

“Did you have to do that?” You muse, playing with the shorter hairs near the nape of his neck. He shivers at the feeling but his eyes open slightly and they’re not looking at you so softly.

“Did ya have to talk about him before training?” He counters back. He knows what you’ve been doing. You scoff.

You also know what he’s been doing. The murderous intention at the mention of you and Gen, the physical warning during lunch at Iharu, and even a mark of possession to the poor older man who was just joining in the fun of his peers.

“Of course,” you bring him down to you, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. You feel his hands tighten on your waist.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

©inzaynety 2024

#kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 fluff #kn8 x reader #kn8 fluff #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina #hoshina soshiro #soshiro hoshina x reader #soshiro hoshina #fics

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daisynik7 · 2 years ago

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Make Me Sweat

Pairing: Aoi Todo x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: ~2.5k

cw: written with a curvy reader in mind, canon-divergent (post-Shibuya but a happy one), all characters are 18+, explicit language, smut – cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, spit play, PIV sex (cowgirl position, mating press), breeding kink, praise kink, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, baby, pretty girl, good girl), creampie

Summary: With the start of the new year, you make it one of your resolutions to become more active. You begin at your apartment's fitness center, where you run into your muscle head, loud-mouth next-door neighbor, Aoi Todo. He offers his gratuitous advice, annoying you at first. But when he suggests a particular kind of workout, it piques your interest enough that you can't refuse.

Author’s Note: I used metric units (kg) to describe the weights. Also, I am no expert in lifting so please take all of this with a grain of salt LOL. I just know that canonically, these characters are fucking STRONG. I stopped with the tag list on this one bc technically this was a bonus fic and I wasn't sure if anyone wanted to be tagged in these. With that, please enjoy some shameless smut about our favorite JJK himbo! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

part 6 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

When you said you wanted to start exercising more, you weren’t expecting this: being bounced up and down your next-door neighbor’s impressively huge cock. Yet, here you are, getting pounded with your ass slapping lewdly on his thighs. His big hands dig into the sides of your belly, his lips on the skin of your neck, voice gruff and husky. “Told you, didn’t I?”

Let’s rewind to a few hours earlier.

You haven’t been prioritizing yourself lately; your obligations during the day drain all the energy from you and your bed is always so enticing for a nap. When the new year approaches, you make it one of your resolutions to be more active. The gym in your apartment complex is finally open after being renovated the past three months and now, there’s really no excuses when the opportunity is just five floors below you. Your forego your usual nap and suit up in your favorite workout clothes, heading down the elevator to the fitness center.

Luckily, it isn’t crowded; the only other people inside are Aoi Todo, your neighbor, and his pink-haired buddy, Yuji. They’re both at the weights section, Yuji doing squats with the barbell while Todo spots him, yelling at him encouragingly. “Come on, brother. Hold it, hold it! You got this!”

Yuji grunts, holding the deadlift for as long as possible, eventually dropping it to the floor with a loud thud. Todo claps emphatically, beaming at him. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

You smile to yourself, amused at Todo’s contagious enthusiasm. When he notices you, he gives you a nod, which you return, slightly embarrassed for being caught watching.

Have you mentioned yet how fucking ripped he is? Today, he wears a loose tank, arm holes cut low to show off his extraordinary physique. Arms bulging with muscles, an incredibly large chest, a well-defined eight-pack. He’s built like a Spartan warrior, ready for battle, destined for victory. It’s impossible to ignore a body like his, even more impossible to ignore his eccentric attitude, which gets on your nerves when you have to listen to his noisy demeanor on the opposite side of the wall.

The cardio section is on the other side of room, so you make your way to one of the treadmills, setting the level to a walking pace for a quick warm-up. Before you put your headphones in to listen to music, you eavesdrop of their conversation, observing them from your peripheral.

“Good shit, brother,” Todo says, massaging his shoulders affectionately.

Yuji scratches his head, grinning. “Still got work to do to match my PR. After Shibuya, my strength hasn’t been the same.”

“You’re still the strongest fucker I know. Besides me, of course,” Todo adds, chuckling. “Spot me before you go.”

They replace the already notable weights with what you suspect are heavier ones. Yuji whistles through his teeth. “300. You’re losing your touch, don’t you think?” he teases, nudging him in the ribs.

Todo digs into a container of powdered chalk, coating his fingers with it. “I’m taking it easy today. Don’t want to over-exert myself in case something exciting happens later.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He grabs on to the barbell, smirking. “I don’t know yet. We’ll see.” Maybe it’s your imagination, but you can almost swear that his eyes meet yours for a split second in the reflection of the mirror.

You continue to observe as Todo easily deadlifts 300 kg, as if it weighs nothing to him, repeating this ten times without breaking a sweat.

Yuji laughs, helping him rerack. “That’s crazy.”

Todo pats his back. “You’ll get there soon, brother. Once you’re fully recovered, you’ll be lifting more than me, I’ll make sure of that.” His unwavering support is actually endearing. Sure, he can be obnoxious, but this side of him is charming.

Unfortunately, this sentiment doesn’t last long. Once Yuji leaves, Todo decides to choose the treadmill right beside you, purposefully neglecting the surrounding unoccupied cardio machines. You’re still at a walking pace, eyeing him suspiciously as he stands there, blatantly watching you with a cocky grin. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Avoiding his gaze, staring at the console in front of you, you mutter, “Excuse me, but I’m trying to focus here.”

“Focus on what? Walking?” he scoffs, leaning on the handrail nearest to you. “You’re not going to get far if you keep going at a snail’s pace.”

You roll your eyes, finally looking at him. “So what do you suggest, Oh-Wise-One?”

It’s meant to be sarcastic, but of course, he thinks you’re genuinely asking. “You’ve got to alternate between high intensity and low intensity. Sprint for thirty seconds, then walk for a minute to cool off. Then repeat. Simple as that.”

As much as you appreciate the gratuitous advice, you’re already familiar with high intensity interval training. You’re just nervous to actually do it, not confident in your running abilities. “I’m not a good runner,” you admit.

“I’m sure that’s not true. Come on, show me what you got.” He crosses his arms over his pecs, waiting.

Deciding it’s better to relent to him rather than argue, you brace yourself, upping the speed so that you’re doing an easy jog.

“You can do better than that!” he hollers, reaching for the controls to increase the level, making the track move faster and faster. You’re sprinting full speed now, lasting about thirty seconds before you swat him away, tugging at the emergency shut off cord to stop it.

You catch your breath, glaring at him, sweat starting to bead on your forehead. "What the fuck, are you trying to kill me?!"

He’s unfazed by your outburst and oblivious to the asshole move he made. “Don’t be so dramatic. You did great. You have really nice form.”

You don’t let his compliments dissuade you from being angry at him. “You can’t just do that without any warning. I’m still getting used to all this.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I won’t do that again.” He watches you take long sips from your water bottle, scanning your figure up and down. A coy smirk spreads across his face. "You know, if running ain't your thing, there are other workouts we can try that might suit you better."

You continue to drink, gradually regaining your composure. "Like what?"

He leans in close to you, breath hot on your ear. "Sex."

You choke on your water, using your towel to wipe the mess. Ready to give him an earful, he hops off the track, walking towards the exit. "If you want to work up a real sweat, you know where to find me. I promise to make it worth your while.”

And with that, he's gone, leaving you speechless. And intrigued.

~~~

After dinner, you take a long shower, Todo’s unconventional suggestion replaying continuously in your mind. You’re almost certain it’s a ridiculous joke, though the more you analyze it, the less ridiculous it seems. In fact, by the time you’re drying off in front of the mirror, checking your reflection carefully, you’re seriously considering it. You’re not particularly tired from earlier, so maybe you have room for one more workout. And hey, if the offer still stands, why not take it?

You slide into a different pair of leggings, one that shows off your curves, and slip on a t-shirt, fulling prepared to exercise. In your running shoes, you walk the few steps next door and knock twice. When he doesn’t answer within the first ten seconds, panic sets in and you’re tempted to turn on your heel to retreat. Before you can, the door swings open and you’re greeted by Todo’s bare bust. He smirks, not at all surprised to see you standing in front of him. “Hey.”

Swallowing the thick saliva gathering on your tongue, you let out a meek, “Hello.” His enormous frame towers over you and you can’t help but salivate at the sight of him. You always assumed he’d be the type of guy to walk around shirtless in his apartment. Not that you’re complaining.

He beckons you inside, closing and locking the door shut behind him. “Can’t stop thinking about it, huh?”

You roll your eyes at him, cracking a smile simultaneously. “Well, it’d be rude to turn down such a generous offer, right?”

He lets out a small laugh, stepping towards you, gripping at your hips to pull you into him. “I knew you were a smart girl.”

You’ve severely underestimated how much bigger he is than you until this moment, as you peer up at him eagerly. “Todo.”

He bows his head down, mouth grazing your ear. “Aoi.”

“Aoi,” you repeat, breath hitching.

“Good girl,” he praises, making you shudder with anticipation. “Tell me exactly what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

You paw at his chest, admiring his sculpted muscles, pressing your fingers into them without even making a dent. “I want you to give me that workout you promised me.”

“Yeah?” he croons, his noticeable erection strained in his sweatpants. “You want this fat fucking cock, don’t you?”

He’s as vulgar as you imagined he’d be and it only spurs you on. You link your arms around his neck, on your tippy-toes to meet him for a kiss. Instead, he hoists you up, holding you with his hands below your ass, your legs wrapped around his waist. His boner throbs as you buck your hips on him, desperate for friction on your aching clit. “You feel it, don’t you?” he purrs, grinding you against him. “That’s all for you.”

He carries you into the bedroom, kissing you sloppily with his massive tongue invading your mouth. When he can’t take it anymore, he tosses you onto the mattress, stripping his clothes off swiftly, you doing the same. He crawls on top of you, ogling your naked body, a lustful gleam in his expression. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“You’re so fucking big,” you blurt out in response, not knowing a better word to describe him. Because everywhere you look, Aoi Todo is big. Big biceps, a tremendous torso, a huge fucking cock ready to fill you the fuck up. You spread your legs open for him, practically begging for him to fuck you.

“Look at this perfect pussy,” he coos, face inching closer to your cunt. He hocks a thick wad of spit directly onto your clit, smearing it with his tongue. “So wet for me.”

You squirm beneath him, unable to control yourself. “Fuck, Aoi,” you swear, toes already curling from the sensation.

“I’m going to make you come first. Make this pussy extra creamy for my dick. Is that okay, sweetheart?” He massages circles into your clit with his thumb, looking up at you from between your thighs.

“Yes,” you whine, trembling with arousal.

“Good girl,” he says again, and you realize how fucking sexy it is when he praises you like this. “Can I finger you too?”

“Oh god, yes,” you moan, growing impatient, needy for whatever he’s willing to offer you.

With his lips latched to your clit, he teases your entrance with his middle finger, slowly sliding deeper until he bottoms out. He adds another digit, pumping inside you while he sucks on your bud, tongue swirling around it. You rock your hips against his face, greedy for more. Todo hums, encouraging you, the vibrations spurring you on until it’s too much. You come for him after a few more strokes, gushing all over his face. You reach down to grab his hair, trying to pry him off you, but he’s obviously way stronger and more resilient. “One more,” he muffles, chin shiny with your slick, his tongue flicking your clit. “For me.” He flashes you a cocky smirk that makes him even more impossible to deny.

You throw your head back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling, hazy-eyed from the pleasure. The squelch of his fingers in and out of your wet cunt is obscene, combined with the shameless moans pouring out of you. After your second climax, or maybe it’s the third (you’ve lost count), he finally eases off you, slurping his digits clean to swallow up your juices. “You’re doing so good for me, pretty girl.” He strokes his cock in his fist, tapping the glistening head on your swollen clit. “It’s going to feel fucking amazing.”

You hum, the only response you can muster in this fucked-out state.

“How do you want it, sweetie?” He lifts you off the bed, having you straddle his lap. “You want to ride me?”

You nod, resting your head on his shoulder, yearning for anything. “Yes.”

“Fuck yeah,” he growls, slapping your ass before guiding his cock into your slippery cunt. You gasp, astonished by the extraordinary girth of him filling you up to the hilt. “You’re swallowing me up.” He spreads your cheeks apart, squeezing your ass in his grip. “That’s my girl.”

You gaze at him, pressing your forehead to his, sticky with sweat. “Fuck me,” you whimper, kissing him fiercely, completely enraptured by him.

He does, bouncing you on his lap, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you’re unraveling for him once more. “Told you, didn’t I? Told you I’d make it worth your while.”

Whatever semblance of rationale you had is gone. All you can think of is Todo’s manhandling you like a fucking rag doll, pliable and yielding to his every touch. Before you reconsider it, you spout the words, “Breed me,” wishing nothing more but to have his hot load leaking out of your cunt.

As if he wasn’t already feral enough, he most certainly is now, planting his feet on the bed to fuck up into you faster and harder. “That’s what you really want? You want my fucking seed in you? Oh fuck. I’ll give it to you, then. I’ll give it to you so fucking good.”

It happens quickly; you’re on your back again, folded nearly in half, knees to your chest, Todo fucking you in a mating press like his goddamn life depends on it. The mattress creaks noisily with each savage thrust he delivers. Sweat drips from his face onto yours as you kiss each other passionately, his massive body surrounding you as he floods your womb with his cum. “Fuck, milk it all out of me baby. That’s it. That’s my girl.”

You stay like this for a moment, allowing yourselves to catch you breaths and cool down. This really was a workout. Todo takes his time, reluctantly pulling out and watching his cum ooze out of you.

“I can’t believe we did that,” you sigh, hiding your face in the pillow.

He gets comfortable beside you, giving you a smooch on the forehead. “Honestly, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

“Really?” You look at him, cupping his cheek gently, wiping the perspiration off his brow with your thumb.

He smiles, nuzzling into your palm. “Yeah.”

“Then maybe we should make this a regular thing,” you suggest as you snuggle into his arms.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” he agrees, embracing you.

And just like that, you have yourself a new and very, very personal trainer.

#todo aoi #todo x reader #todo jjk #todo smut #todo aoi x reader #todo aoi smut #aoi todo #aoi todo x reader #aoi todo smut #aoi todo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #to all the boys who live next door #todo x you

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mcrdvcks · 8 months ago

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i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 2004 - i love you, i'm sorry

chapter summary: After an incident involving Jean and Scott at Alkali Lake, the team tries to figure out what happened and how to help their teammate.

word count: 9.1k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i know that technically 'the last stand' takes place in 2006, three years after 'x2', but for the sake of the story, i moved it forward some (hell, the story line is already ruined, jean's alive!). this pretty much follows the movie almost exactly, with a few changes and character switches, you'll see when you read ;)

also, i didn't write the full movie, there were some scenes i felt didn't need to be in the story or wouldn't contribute anything to what i'm writing, so there are a lot of skips.

warnings/tags: follows events of 'the last stand' (strays slightly), slight fluff, angst, violence, character death(s)

series masterlist - chapter 8, chapter 8.5 → chapter 10

“What the hell was that?” Ororo asked.

“Danger Room session.” Logan answered.

“You know what I mean.”

“Oh, lighten up, Storm.”

“Look, you can’t just change the rules when you feel like it. I’m tryin’ to teach ‘em something.”

“I taught ‘em something.”

“It was a defensive exercise.”

“Yeah. Best defensive is a good offense.” Logan tilted his head, “or is it the other way around?”

Ororo stopped walking and turned to face him, “this isn’t a game, Logan.”

“Well, you sure fooled me. Hey, I’m just a sub. You got a problem, talk to Scott.”

The elevator doors opened as you walked out into the sleek silver halls, “and where is Scott anyways?” Ororo asked.

You held a clipboard as you walked over to the two, the soft click of your shoes against the metallic floors catching Ororo’s attention. Adjusting your glasses with one hand, you scanned the paper in front of you before answering.

“Jean said something about going somewhere, and Scott followed. I’m not sure where though.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Of course, he did,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. His gaze shifted to you, softening slightly, though his smirk remained. “What about you, darlin’? You checkin’ in on us or just tryin’ to make sure I’m not causin’ trouble?”

“Little bit of both,” you replied quietly, a shy smile creeping onto your face. The teasing in his tone always made your heart skip, but you weren’t about to let him know that. Not yet, at least.

“Good luck with that,” Ororo said dryly, crossing her arms as she regarded Logan. “He’s impossible.”

“I heard that,” Logan shot back, though his eyes were still locked on you. His stance relaxed, hands casually slipping into his pockets. “And I ain’t impossible, sweetheart. Just a little... unconventional.”

Ororo rolled her eyes, but you couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you. “Unconventional is one word for it,” you muttered under your breath, glancing down at your clipboard.

Logan chuckled at that, stepping closer until he was standing just a foot or so away. “You’re spendin’ too much time with me if you’re pickin’ up my bad habits,” he said, his voice lower now, meant just for you.

Your cheeks warmed, and you adjusted your glasses, focusing on the notes in front of you to avoid his piercing gaze. “Someone has to keep you in check,” you countered softly, earning another grin from him.

Ororo cleared her throat, her expression a mix of mild annoyance and amusement. “If you two are done flirting, can we get back to the matter at hand?”

You blinked, your face flushing even more at her words. “We weren’t—” you started, but Logan cut you off.

“Flirtin’? Nah, Storm, this is just me bein’ charming.” He leaned slightly closer to you, his smirk widening. “Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. The warmth in your cheeks spread, and you quickly turned your attention back to Ororo, hoping to steer the conversation back on track. “Uh, right. The Danger Room session,” you said, clearing your throat. “I think it went... well? Mostly?”

“Mostly,” Ororo echoed, raising an eyebrow at Logan. “You mean aside from him completely derailing the exercise?”

“C’mon,” Logan said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “The kids learned somethin’. That’s the point, right?”

“They were supposed to learn defensive techniques,” Ororo pointed out, her tone sharp. “Not how to dive headfirst into a fight.”

Logan shrugged. “Sometimes a good offense—”

“—is the best defense,” Ororo finished for him, shaking her head. “Yes, we’ve heard it before. It’s still not what we were working on.”

You glanced between them, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. Logan’s ability to push Ororo’s buttons was almost an art form, but you knew he respected her, even if he’d never admit it outright.

“Maybe next time,” you said gently, stepping in before the argument could escalate further, “you two can coordinate beforehand? That way, no one’s caught off guard.”

Logan tilted his head, considering your suggestion, while Ororo gave you a small nod of approval. “Fair enough,” Logan said finally, his tone begrudging but not unkind. “But I still think my way’s better.”

Ororo shot him a look, and you couldn’t suppress the laugh that bubbled up this time. “Let’s just call it a draw and move on,” you said, earning a chuckle from Logan and a sigh from Ororo.

“You’re too nice to him,” Ororo muttered as she turned to leave. “One of these days, you’ll regret it.”

Logan’s eyes followed her until she disappeared down the hall, then shifted back to you. “She’s got a point, y’know,” he said, his tone teasing. “You’re way too nice to me.”

“Someone has to be,” you replied without missing a beat, though your voice remained soft.

His grin widened, and he took another step closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. The casual intimacy of the gesture made your pulse quicken. “Lucky for me, huh?” he murmured.

Your eyes darted to his, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. The steady, grounding presence of Logan was all you could focus on. His hand lingered against your arm, his touch warm and familiar in a way that made you feel safe and seen.

“Yeah,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Lucky for you.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, and he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping even lower. “Y’know, darlin’, if we keep this up, Storm’s gonna start thinkin’ she’s right.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you pulled back just enough to regain your composure. “Let her think what she wants,” you said, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed your attempt at nonchalance.

Logan’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he finally stepped back, his hand falling away from your arm. “Alright,” he said, his tone light but his eyes still holding that unmistakable softness. “Guess I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah,” you said, your smile shy but genuine. “See you later.”

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but watch him go, your heart still racing from the exchange. It was moments like these that reminded you just how deeply he’d wormed his way into your life—and your heart.

---

“-sound waves almost always generate a little bit of heat as they travel, and almost always end up as heat when they are absorbed. Sound and heat are both macroscopic descriptions of the movement of atoms and molecul- ” Sharp ringing in your head cut you off, with the Professor’s voice ringing in not only your head, but everyone else’s.

“Scott. Scott. Scott. Scott. Scott. Scott- ”

You put down the dry erase marker on your desk and ran towards the Professor’s office, getting there at the same time Logan and Ororo did.

“Professor, you okay?” Logan asked.

“Get to Alkali Lake.”

---

The Blackbird descended down beneath the fog into a wooded area. As the three of you descended the ramp hardly anything could be seen.

You all walked slowly through the area, small objects like the leaves you stepped on and dew floating without any of you noticing.

“I can’t see a damn thing.” Logan said.

“I can take care of that.” Ororo looked up at the sky as she cleared the fog from the beach to reveal rocks and small debris floating above the sand.

“What the…” Logan muttered. A small rock floated close by as he gently tapped it, making it float away.

The three of you shared a glance before splitting up, walking in different directions but never straying too far. After a few moments Ororo’s voice broke out, “guys!”

You and Logan ran over to where Ororo was kneeling. Her hand rested on Jean's arm as she leaned closer to inspect her unconscious form. The redhead looked peaceful, almost too peaceful for someone sprawled out on the rocky ground.

"Jean," you said, voice soft but urgent as you crouched down. Your fingers pressed to the side of her neck, searching for a pulse. Relief flooded you when you found it—steady and strong. "She's alive."

Logan exhaled sharply through his nose, crouching beside you. "She doesn't look hurt," he muttered, his brow furrowed as he scanned her face. "But what the hell happened out here?"

"I don't know," Ororo said, her voice tight with concern. "But this... this isn’t normal." She gestured at the debris floating lazily in the air around you. Even the faintest breeze didn’t seem to disturb the unnatural stillness of the objects.

You brushed a strand of Jean’s hair away from her face, your fingers trembling slightly. “We should get her back to the mansion,” you said. “The Professor might be able to help.”

Logan nodded. “I’ll carry her.” Without hesitation, he slipped his arms beneath Jean and lifted her with ease, cradling her close to his chest. His eyes flicked to you briefly, his expression softening for just a moment. “Stay close.”

You nodded, your hand instinctively brushing against his arm as you rose to your feet. The three of you started back toward the Blackbird, the eerie quiet of the area pressing down on you like a weight. The leaves and rocks continued to float aimlessly, defying gravity in a way that made your skin crawl.

Once aboard the Blackbird, Logan gently set Jean down on one of the seats, securing her with a harness. You sat beside her, keeping a close eye on her for any signs of movement. Logan and Ororo moved to the cockpit, preparing for takeoff.

“Anything?” Logan asked as he glanced back over his shoulder at you.

You shook your head, biting your lip. “She hasn’t moved.” Your fingers lightly brushed against Jean’s wrist, feeling the steady thrum of her pulse again. “But she’s stable.”

Logan grunted, his jaw tightening. “Good. Let’s get back and figure out what the hell’s goin’ on.”

---

You and the Professor were in the medbay, with him sitting at the head of the bed while you ran scans of Jean’s brain and kept an eye on her vitals.

“Is she gonna be okay?” You asked.

“Jean Grey is the only class five mutant I’ve ever encountered, her potential practically limitless. Her mutation is seated in the unconscious part of her mind, and therein lay the danger. When she was a girl, I created a series of psychic barriers to isolate her powers from her conscious mind. And, as a result, Jean developed a dual personality.”

“W-what?” You muttered.

“The conscious Jean, whose powers were always in her control… and the dormant side, a personality that, in our sessions, came to call itself the Phoenix—a purely instinctual creature, all desire and joy… and rage.”

You thought back to the Jean you knew, she was kind and calm, she could never be… this. “Did Jean know about this?” You questioned, holding the tablet to your chest.

“It’s unclear how much she knew. Far more critical is whether the woman in front of us is the Jean Grey we know or the Phoenix furiously struggling to be free.”

“Well, she looks… peaceful.” You observed, tilting your head as you looked at her still calm expression.

“Because I’m keeping her that way.” Charles spoke, “I’m trying to restore the psychic blocks and cage the beast again.”

You straightened, “are you… trying to control her?”

“She has to be.”

“What happens if you just make the beast angry and it lashes out? What happens then?”

“You have no idea,” Charles said quietly, “you have no idea of what she’s capable. I had a choice to make. I chose the lesser of two evils.”

“Did Jean even have a choice in this?” you asked quietly.

Charles turned his head away from you, “I don’t have to explain myself.” He said, before hovering his hands over Jean’s head, ending the conversation.

You let out a small huff and walked over to some of the monitors at the other end of the medbay.

---

You fixed the attachments on Jean’s chest, but before you could pull your hand away completely, she grabbed your wrist, making you gasp slightly. The headpiece floated off her head, hovering over the ground.

“Jean,” you said softly.

She blinked before turning her head over to you, “hey, Y/N.” Jean said quietly, you barely even heard her.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. More than okay,” she said, almost dreamlike. Her fingers lingered on your wrist, the contact grounding and unsettling all at once. She took off the diodes attached to her chest as you looked down at the tablet in your hands.

You stared at her, uncertain, the tablet still clutched in your hand. “Jean, maybe you should rest,” you suggested gently, your voice low and steady. “You’ve been through a lot.”

Her lips quirked into a faint smile—soft, almost playful, yet something about it felt… off. “I feel fine,” she replied, her tone silkier now. She sat up slowly, her movements fluid and unhurried, and the headpiece hovering near her floated to the side, settling on the counter without a sound. “Better than fine, actually.”

Jean adjusted her position, her legs on either side of yours, and you took a small step back, uneasy. Her hand slid down to yours, her fingers curling loosely around yours, grounding you in place.

"Jean, maybe I should call the Professor," you murmured, your voice steady despite the unease pooling in your stomach. “He’ll want to check on you.”

Her fingers tightened slightly around yours. “You don’t need to call him, Y/N,” she said softly, her tone soothing yet laced with something you couldn’t quite place. “I’m fine. I feel… better than fine.”

Her gaze was sharp, piercing, and for a brief moment, you felt like she was looking through you rather than at you. It made you shift on your feet, uncertain, your free hand clutching the tablet close to your chest.

“You’ve been through a lot,” you said carefully, trying to read her expression, though the faint, almost otherworldly smile she wore didn’t make it any easier. “Rest would be good. We just want to make sure you’re—”

“I know you’re worried about me,” she interrupted, her voice dipping lower. “You always are. You’ve always cared so much, Y/N.”

You blinked at her, the words striking a tender, vulnerable chord. “Of course I care, Jean,” you replied. “We’re friends. I just—”

“Friends,” she repeated, her smile widening slightly as her thumb brushed against your knuckles. “We are, aren’t we? Good friends…” Her tone lingered on the last word, almost teasing, and her gaze dropped to where her hand held yours.

The warmth of her touch seeped into your skin, steady and grounding, but her proximity—the way her body leaned into yours, her legs bracketing your stance—made the air in the room feel heavy, charged.

“Jean,” you said softly, “something feels off. Are you sure you’re—”

Before you could finish, she leaned forward, her free hand rising to cup the side of your face. The movement was fluid, almost too quick to process, and you froze, your breath catching as her thumb grazed your cheek.

“Y/N,” she murmured, her voice softer now, almost hypnotic. “You don’t have to be so careful around me. You’re always so careful, always holding back…”

Her words were gentle, but something about them tugged at a darker undercurrent, like a melody slightly out of tune. You shook your head, your pulse quickening. “Jean, I’m not holding back. I just think we should—”

She tilted her head, her fingers tracing the edge of your jaw with a featherlight touch. “I feel alive,” she said, almost to herself, her smile shifting into something more intense. “For the first time in… I don’t even know how long.” Her eyes locked onto yours, the green depths swirling with something unsteady, something you couldn’t name.

“You’ve always made me feel steady, Y/N,” she continued, her voice low, intimate. “Even when everything else feels out of control. Don’t you see how special that is? How special you are?”

Your heart raced, and you took another step back, trying to create space, but she didn’t let go. If anything, her hold on you seemed to tighten, her body leaning closer.

“Jean,” you tried again, your voice firmer now. “This isn’t like you. We should—”

“I don’t want to talk about what I should or shouldn’t do,” she said, her tone hardening slightly, the playful edge fading. “Not right now.”

And before you could react, her lips were on yours—soft, warm, and entirely unexpected. You froze, every thought scattering as her hand on your face anchored you in place.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was full of urgency, need, and something deeper—something wilder. Her fingers curled into your hair, and she pulled you closer, the tablet in your hands slipping to the floor with a quiet thud.

Your instinct was to pull away, to say something, but the intensity of it—the sheer force of her presence—kept you rooted. Her lips moved against yours, her grip on you firm yet not forceful, and for a fleeting moment, the warmth of her touch and the closeness of her body overwhelmed every rational thought.

You could faintly hear the monitors around you buzzing and hissing as Jean moved to slip off the cardigan on your shoulders, only pulling it halfway down your arms before holding on to your shoulders and pulling you down onto the med table.

As you hovered over her, Jean’s legs moved up, hooking around your waist. The movement was deliberate, too fluid to feel natural, and the contact sent a shiver down your spine—not entirely out of discomfort, but because there was a weight behind it, a pull you couldn’t seem to resist.

Her hand slipped from your wrist to the back of your neck, her fingers threading gently through your hair as she guided you closer. The kiss deepened, her lips soft yet insistent, and a strange warmth spread through your chest. Your mind screamed at you to pull back, to say something, but your body refused to listen.

You could feel it—the way her presence wrapped around you like a magnetic field, leaving you caught in its orbit. Every brush of her lips, every tilt of her head felt intentional, purposeful, as though she was unraveling something inside you, piece by piece.

“Jean,” you murmured against her mouth, barely audible. You tried to move your hands to push yourself away, but instead, they landed on either side of her hips, as if they had a will of their own. “This isn’t…”

“This isn’t what?” she whispered back, her voice breathless yet commanding. Her lips ghosted along your jawline, trailing heat in their wake, and you couldn’t suppress the faint hitch in your breath. “Tell me what feels wrong, Y/N.”

Her tone wasn’t accusing or angry; it was low, almost coaxing, as though she was daring you to argue when every fiber of your being wanted to agree with her. That pull—that inexplicable force—felt like a tether, one you couldn’t cut even if you wanted to.

“This isn’t you,” you managed, your voice trembling. “Jean, please, we need to stop.”

She leaned back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, and the intensity in her eyes made your stomach twist. Her green irises swirled faintly, like something untamed was stirring beneath the surface. “Why?” she asked softly, her fingers brushing against the side of your neck. “Why are you so afraid of this?”

“I’m not—” You paused, swallowing hard, trying to focus despite the fog clouding your thoughts. “I’m not afraid. I just… I care about you. And this—this isn’t fair to you.”

Her lips quirked into a small, almost sad smile, though the flicker of something darker behind her eyes didn’t waver. “You always care so much,” she murmured, her fingers tracing a slow path down to your collarbone. “That’s what makes you so… special.”

You finally found the strength to shift, moving off of her and standing by the bed. “Jean, I mean it,” you said, your voice steadier now. “This isn’t you.”

Jean reached out again, moving to grab your face, “yes. Yes, it is me.”

You grabbed her wrists, holding them to her chest, “no. Maybe you need to take it easy. The professor said you might be different.”

"He would know, wouldn’t he?" she said, her voice low and cutting. "What? You think he’s not in your head too? Look at you, Y/N. Always so careful, so measured—every step thought out, every word calculated. Is that really you?"

Her words hit like a jolt, and your pulse quickened as you tried to steady your breathing. You stayed silent, unable to come up with a response before settling on, “where’s Scott?” You let go of her wrists as she looked away, “Jean?”

Tears started to fill her eyes, “where am I?”

“You’re in the mansion.” You gently rested your hands on her shoulders, “you need to tell me what happened to Scott.” Jean couldn’t meet your eyes; they kept flickering around the room. “Jean, tell me what happened to him.” You reached over and grabbed Scott’s glasses from a nearby table, the ones Logan found at Alkali Lake.

Jean looked down at the glasses in your hand before her eyes widened, “oh, God,” she muttered. She closed her eyes as creaking sounded out around you. You looked over to one of the tables where screws were being unscrewed and then back at your hands where Scott’s glasses turned to dust.

The computers started to buzz louder as a few objects started to float. “Jean!” You grabbed the sides of her face hesitantly, “look at me.” The metal cabinet door opened, and objects started to fall out onto the floor. “Stay with me.” Your hand’s traveled to her shoulders again, “come on, look at me. Look at me.”

Jean’s eyes were closed, “no.”

“Jean. Jean! Focus.”

She finally opened her eyes, looking at you with a tearful, frightened expression, “kill me.”

“What?” You whispered in disbelief.

“Kill me before I kill someone else.” She cried, tears falling down her face.

“No, don’t say that- ”

“Please.”

“Stop.”

“Kill me.” Jean said again, as the tables shifted and rattled, and the glass on the cabinet’s shattered.

“Stop, look at me. Look at me, Jean. Everything will be okay. We can help you. The professor can help. He can fix it.”

Suddenly Jean’s eyes went pitch black as she hissed, “I don’t want to fix it!” With a telekinetic shove, she threw you against the wall, effectively knocking you out.

---

“Y/N?” Logan’s hand landed on your shoulders, waking you up.

Your glasses were askew on your face as he adjusted them. “Jean?” You sat up and looked around the med bay, only to find Ororo and Charles by the door, Logan still kneeling next to you.

“What happened?” Logan asked.

“What have you done?” Charles questioned, rolling a little closer.

You looked from Charles, to Ororo, then Logan. “I think she killed Scott.”

“What?” Ororo whispered, “that’s not possible.”

“I warned you.” Charles spoke again, before closing his eyes. “She’s left the mansion, but she’s trying to block my thoughts. She’s so strong. It may be too late.”

---

You hurried to catch up to Logan as he followed Ororo and Charles toward the garage, your steps quick but uncertain. “Logan, wait,” you called, adjusting your glasses as they slid down your nose.

He stopped, turning to look at you, his expression already tense. His gaze softened briefly when it landed on you, but his jaw tightened again almost immediately. “What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, his tone even but edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

“I’m coming with you,” you said firmly, surprising even yourself with the steadiness in your voice. You clasped your hands in front of you, gripping them tightly to stop them from trembling.

Logan’s brows furrowed, and he shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

You blinked, taken aback by his bluntness. “Why not? I can help. Jean is—she’s my friend, too. If something’s going on with her, I should be there.”

“It’s not safe,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. He stepped closer to you, lowering his head so he could look you in the eyes. “This isn’t some training mission, Y/N. Jean’s not herself. You saw what she did back there—she threw you into a wall without even trying. I��m not letting that happen again.”

You tilted your chin up, refusing to back down. “I can handle myself,” you replied, though the words didn’t feel as convincing as you wanted them to.

Logan let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair. “Darlin’, you don’t need to prove anything. You’re not a fighter, and that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’re not strong—it just means this isn’t the right place for you.”

His words stung more than they should have. He wasn’t saying it outright, but you couldn’t help but hear what wasn’t being said: Your powers aren’t enough. You’re not enough.

“I’ve been training,” you insisted, your voice quieter now. “I’ve been working with Ororo and… Scott—I’m not useless, Logan.”

“I never said you were,” he shot back, his tone softening slightly. He reached out, his hand brushing against your arm, but you stepped back, out of reach. His hand dropped to his side, and for a moment, his frustration flickered into something closer to regret.

“Then why won’t you let me come?” you asked, your voice wavering despite your efforts to keep it steady.

Logan hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again. “Because I can’t lose you,” he admitted, his voice rough but honest. “Not again.”

The weight of his words hit you like a punch to the chest. You stared at him, your lips parting slightly as you tried to process what he’d said. “What do you mean, ‘again’?” you asked quietly.

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said gruffly. “What matters is keeping you safe. And that means you’re staying here.”

You wanted to argue, to demand answers, but the look in his eyes stopped you. There was something there—something raw and vulnerable that you didn’t recognize.

“I can help,” you said softly, one last attempt.

Logan stepped closer, his hand cupping the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I know you can,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But not this time. Please, darlin’. Stay here. For me.”

You swallowed hard, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his plea. Finally, you nodded, your eyes stinging with unshed tears.

“Okay,” you whispered.

Logan leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you,” he murmured against your skin before pulling back.

As he turned and followed Ororo to the garage, you stayed where you were, watching him go. The weight of his words lingered in your chest, heavy and suffocating.

Not again.

---

After the Professor’s funeral, you found yourself alone in the medbay, your hands mechanically picking up the remnants of the chaos Jean—or whatever she had become—had left behind. Broken glass crunched underfoot as you swept it into a dustpan, the sound sharp in the oppressive silence. You set the broom aside and started straightening the overturned tables and scattered supplies, doing your best to focus on the task and not the knot tightening in your chest.

But the quiet didn’t last.

At first, it was faint—barely a whisper—but it stopped you mid-motion.

“Y/N…”

Your name.

You froze, gripping the edge of the counter. The room was empty. You were sure of it.

“Y/N…”

This time, the voice was unmistakable. Jean’s voice, soft but disoriented, echoing in the corners of your mind.

“Where… where am I?”

Your breath hitched. “Jean?” you called out, turning in a slow circle, your voice trembling. “Jean, is that you?”

There was no response, but the air seemed heavier now, charged with something unseen. You swallowed hard and braced yourself against the counter, your knuckles turning white.

“Y/N…” Her voice came again, fainter this time, almost pleading.

“Jean, where are you?” you asked, louder this time. The room remained silent, her voice fading into the ether.

You pressed your palms to your temples, trying to steady yourself. It wasn’t just hearing her voice—it was the desperation in it, the confusion. Something wasn’t right, and the knot in your chest grew tighter.

---

You didn’t remember walking to Logan’s room, but here you were, standing in the doorway. Most of your things had already migrated here over the past several months—sweaters draped over his chair, books stacked on the nightstand next to his bed. Now, you moved on autopilot, grabbing a bag and hastily stuffing a few essentials inside.

“Y/N,” Logan’s gruff voice startled you, and you turned to see him standing in the doorway. His sharp gaze moved from you to the bag in your hands, and his brows furrowed. “What are you doing?” he asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“I need to go,” you said, your voice firmer than you felt. “Jean… she—she’s out there, Logan. I heard her.”

Logan’s expression darkened, and he shook his head. “No. You’re not going anywhere.”

You turned back to the bed, ignoring him as you zipped up the bag. “I can’t just stay here. She’s my friend—”

“And she’s dangerous,” Logan cut you off, his voice rising. He crossed the room in two quick strides, grabbing your bag and setting it down on the floor. “I told you to stay put.”

You clenched your fists, taking a step back. “You can’t just tell me what to do, Logan. I’m not some fragile thing that needs protecting. I can help—”

“Help?” Logan’s jaw clenched, and he ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t understand, Y/N. This isn’t some rescue mission. Jean’s not herself anymore—hell, I don’t even know if she’s still Jean.”

“She’s still in there,” you insisted, your voice cracking. “I know she is.”

Logan exhaled sharply, his shoulders tense. “Even if she is, it’s not safe for you to go out there. Not this time.”

“Why not?” you demanded, your frustration boiling over. “Why do you keep saying that like I’m some liability? Like I can’t—”

“Because I’ve lost you before!” he snapped, his voice breaking through the tension like a whip.

You froze, his words hanging heavy in the air between you.

“Again,” you repeated softly, your brow furrowing. “You’ve said that before. ‘Not again.’ What do you mean, Logan?”

Logan’s face hardened, and he took a step back, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered.

“The hell it doesn’t!” you shot back, your voice trembling now. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on? Why are you acting like this?”

Logan looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he turned away, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

“I’ll go,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re staying here.”

“Logan—”

“No.” He turned back to you, his eyes fierce. “Stay here, Y/N. That’s final.”

You watched as he walked out, the door closing behind him with a soft click. The knot in your chest tightened until it felt like you couldn’t breathe.

You sank onto the edge of the bed, your head in your hands.

“Jean…” you whispered, her voice still echoing faintly in your mind.

---

You pulled your gloves onto your hands, flexing your fingers to adjust to the snug leather. The gesture felt mechanical, a distraction as your mind churned with everything that had happened—Jean’s voice in your head, Logan’s refusal to let you go, and the weight of everything unsaid between you two.

The sound of heavy footsteps behind you pulled you from your thoughts. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Logan. He always moved with a certain weight, purposeful yet cautious, like he was constantly bracing himself for the next fight.

"Y/N," Logan’s voice was softer than you expected. When you turned, he was standing just inside the doorway, his gaze dropping briefly to your gloved hands before meeting your eyes. His expression was guarded, but there was something else there—hesitation? Guilt?

You didn’t say anything, waiting for him to break the silence.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I owe you an apology.”

That wasn’t what you expected. You blinked, unsure how to respond, so you stayed quiet.

Logan stepped closer, his movements slower, more deliberate than usual. “For earlier,” he continued, his voice low but steady. “For not letting you come with us to find Jean. For not listening to you when you said she was still in your head.”

You swallowed hard, glancing down at your gloves as you flexed your fingers again. “You didn’t have to apologize,” you said softly, though the tension in your voice betrayed your feelings. “You were trying to protect me. I get that.”

Logan frowned, stepping even closer until he was just a few feet away. “No, darlin’, you don’t get it,” he said, his tone sharpening slightly. “You’re in my head all the time, Y/N. Every damn second. And when I saw what Jean did—when I saw that had you hit that wall—I couldn’t...” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as he looked away for a moment, like he was trying to keep himself in check.

“Couldn’t what?” you asked, your voice quieter now, hesitant but insistent.

His eyes met yours again, and this time, the rawness in his gaze made your chest ache. “I couldn’t risk it,” he admitted, his voice rough. “I couldn’t risk losing you.”

You took a shaky breath, the weight of his words settling over you. “I wasn’t asking you to risk me, Logan,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “I was asking you to trust me. To believe that I could help. Jean’s my friend too, and I—” You paused, your throat tightening.

Logan’s face softened, and he reached out, his hands settling on your shoulders. His touch was firm but careful, grounding. “I know you’re strong, Y/N. Hell, you’re stronger than most people I’ve met. But this... This isn’t like anything we’ve faced before.”

You looked down, your gaze falling to the collar of his suit as you fought back the sting of tears. “You don’t think I can handle it,” you said, barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t say that,” Logan replied quickly, his thumbs brushing against your shoulders in a soothing motion. “I know you can handle more than I give you credit for. But that doesn’t mean I want you to.”

Your head snapped up at that, your brow furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’ve already lost you five times,” Logan said, his voice cracking slightly on the last two words. “And I can’t—” He stopped, closing his eyes briefly before continuing. “I can’t go through it again, Y/N. Even if you don’t remember, I do. Every life, every time. And it always ends the same way—with me losing you.”

The room seemed to tilt around you as his words sank in. “What are you talking about?” you asked, your voice barely audible. “Logan, what do you mean, ‘every life’?”

Logan’s hands dropped from your shoulders, and he took a step back, running a hand over his face. “I can’t explain it,” he said gruffly. “Not now. Not here. Just... trust me when I say that keeping you safe is the only thing that matters to me.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to demand answers, but the look in his eyes stopped you. There was so much pain there, so much unspoken grief, that you didn’t know where to start.

Instead, you reached out, your gloved hand brushing against his. “Logan,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His lips twitched into a faint, fleeting smile, and he nodded, clasping your hand in his. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I don’t think I could take it if you did.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you. Then Logan leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Come on,” he said quietly. “The team’s waiting.”

You nodded, swallowing hard, but didn’t move right away. Instead, you reached out, your hand finding his wrist, stopping him before he could step away.

“Wait,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the sound of your heart pounding in your chest.

Logan turned back to you, his brow furrowing as he studied your face. “What is it, darlin’?” he asked, his tone gentle despite the tension in his stance.

Your fingers tightened slightly around his wrist, and you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “I need to tell you something before we go,” you admitted, the words sticking in your throat. “About what happened in the medbay. Before Jean threw me into the wall.”

Logan’s expression darkened instantly, his jaw clenching as he took a step closer. “What happened?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave, low and dangerous.

You hesitated, your stomach twisting as the memory surfaced—the way Jean’s voice had sounded in your head, warm and commanding, how her hands had felt on your face, her lips crashing against yours before you’d even realized what was happening.

“It wasn’t... voluntary,” you said finally, your voice trembling. “Jean—or whatever part of her that’s... different now—she got inside my head. Made me...” You trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, but the look in Logan’s eyes told you he already knew.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he started pacing. “She—she kissed you?”

You nodded, your arms wrapping around yourself as if to shield against the shame still lingering in the back of your mind. “I tried to stop her, Logan. I swear, I—”

“I know you did,” Logan interrupted, his tone softening as he stopped pacing and turned back to you. He crossed the small space between you in two strides, his hands coming up to gently cup your face. “I know, sweetheart. It wasn’t your fault.”

Tears stung your eyes, and you blinked quickly to keep them from falling. “I should’ve told you earlier,” you whispered, guilt gnawing at you. “I just didn’t know how. After everything, I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Logan shook his head, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks. “You didn’t make anything worse,” he said firmly. “Jean’s not herself right now, Y/N. Whatever’s happening to her, it’s got nothing to do with you.”

You searched his face, the sincerity in his eyes grounding you in a way nothing else could. “I’m sorry,” you murmured again, your voice breaking.

“Don’t apologize,” Logan said, leaning down until his forehead rested against yours. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You hear me?”

You nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of his words wrapping around you like a lifeline. Then Logan pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your temple. “You ready?” he asked softly, his hands lingering on your shoulders.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice steadier now. “I’m ready.”

Logan gave you a small nod, his hand sliding down to take yours. His grip was warm and reassuring as he led you out of the room and down the hall toward the hangar.

---

“Jean!” Logan yelled, as the building behind him started to disintegrate. The military cars and its people floated in the air before turning into dust as well.

The water from the lake rose in the air, creating a wall around Alcatraz Island along with the debris.

Jean stood on top of metal, a makeshift platform, as Logan turned to face her, slowly walking towards her. “Jean!” A force knocked Logan back as his own body started to disintegrate, but his healing factor kept up with the dark force, keeping him together.

He grunted as he walked up the hill of metal and rock, and as he reached the top, the top of his suit was gone completely, his body almost glitching as the two forces fought against each other.

Logan finally made it up, now standing in front of Jean.

“You would die for them?” Jean hissed, her eyes pitch black.

Logan's voice was a low growl, each word deliberate and heavy. “No. Not for them.”

Jean’s darkened eyes narrowed, her expression unreadable as her hair billowed unnaturally in the chaos around her. The Phoenix force surged, tearing the air apart with its power, but Logan didn’t falter. His healing factor fought against the disintegration crawling over his body, knitting him back together even as the Phoenix sought to destroy him.

Jean stepped closer, her voice low and distorted, as though layered with something inhuman. “Then why, Logan? Why do you keep coming?”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his breathing heavy. He stared at her—not at the Phoenix, but at the woman he’d once trusted. “Because you’re my friend,” he rasped. “And because I’ve got no choice.”

For a moment, Jean seemed to waver, her expression flickering between the Phoenix’s cold rage and a glimmer of something softer—something human. But the Phoenix roared back with a vengeance, and her face twisted in fury.

"You should’ve stayed away!" she screamed, her voice reverberating in the air as a shockwave blasted out from her, throwing Logan to the ground. Metal debris rained down around him, but he pushed himself to his feet again, his claws extended as he advanced once more.

“Jean, you’re still in there!” Logan yelled over the chaos, his voice rough but desperate. “I know you are! Fight it!”

The Phoenix’s laughter was sharp and hollow. “Jean is gone,” she hissed. “You can’t save her.”

Before Logan could reply, her power flared again, and this time it consumed him completely. The flesh on his arms peeled away under the assault, only to regenerate in the next instant. He screamed in pain but kept moving forward, one step at a time, his determination unwavering.

---

From the safety of the Blackbird, your hands clutched the edge of the seat as you stared out at the destruction unfolding on Alcatraz Island. The others had joined the fight against the Brotherhood, but you’d been ordered—again—to stay behind on the jet by Ororo.

But this time, you hadn’t protested. Because something had stopped you.

A vision.

It wasn’t like the fleeting glimpses you sometimes caught when time slowed down around you. This was something else entirely, a full-blown, horrifying flash of what could be.

In your vision, Logan stood alone, facing Jean—or what she had become. The Phoenix wasn’t just fighting him; she was erasing him. You’d seen the way his body disintegrated over and over again, the agony etched into his face as he fought with every ounce of strength he had. You’d seen him fall.

You’d seen him die.

The image of his broken body burned in your mind, and your chest tightened with fear. Logan’s voice, raw and broken, echoed in your ears from the vision.

“No. Not for them.”

And then—nothing.

The vision had ended there, cutting off abruptly and leaving you gasping for breath. Your hands trembled as you pressed them against your temples, trying to ground yourself, but the weight of what you’d seen was suffocating.

“Logan…” you whispered to yourself, tears welling up in your eyes. The thought of losing him—of him sacrificing himself like that—was unbearable.

He can’t do this alone.

Your fingers tightened on the armrest as you wrestled with your next move. Jean was your friend, and Logan… Logan was everything. You couldn’t just sit here, watching from the sidelines, knowing what might happen.

You made your decision as you walked out of the Blackbird from on top of the building, scaling down the stairs behind the military men who were running away as the air shifted.

On the ground a flash of light caught your eye. You brushed dirt away to find a dagger, maybe something one the mutants or the military had dropped. You put it in your belt, the blade digging into your back.

Metal clinked as parts started to float in the air, screams and panicked yelling creating a symphony. Ororo stopped beside Logan. “I’m the only one who can stop her,” he said. “Get everyone to safety. Go!”

Ororo floated in the air, getting out of the way.

“Jean!” Logan yelled, as the building behind him started to disintegrate. The military cars and its people floated in the air before turning into dust as well.

The water from the lake rose in the air, creating a wall around Alcatraz Island along with the debris.

You swallowed harshly, running up behind him, “Logan!”

The sound of your voice cut through the chaos, making Logan’s head snap around. His eyes widened in shock, quickly narrowing with frustration as you came to a stop beside him. The storm of power surrounding Jean roared, debris spinning wildly in the air like a deadly vortex.

“What the hell are you still doing here?” Logan growled, grabbing your arm and pulling you closer to shield you from the debris. His eyes flicked over you, worry etched deep into his features.

You shook your head, trying to keep your voice steady despite the overwhelming fear clawing at your chest. “I couldn’t just sit there, Logan. I saw what’s going to happen—I felt it. You don’t understand—”

“I understand just fine,” he interrupted sharply, his voice rough with anger and something deeper. “This isn’t a fight you can win. You need to go. Now.”

“No,” you said firmly, stepping closer to him. “I’m not leaving you. Not this time.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his eyes locking onto yours. “Darlin’, this isn’t about me. It’s about keeping you safe.” His voice softened slightly, the desperation clear. “Please. Don’t make me lose you again.”

Those words made your breath hitch, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the storm, the chaos, even the looming threat of Jean’s power. You stared up at him, your heart breaking at the raw emotion in his gaze.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice trembling but resolute.

Before Logan could respond, you stood on your toes, cupping his face as you kissed him. It wasn’t a fleeting, desperate kiss—it was full of love, of everything you hadn’t said and everything you couldn’t. His arms tightened around you instinctively, pulling you closer, and for one brief, perfect moment, the world around you seemed to stop.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his as your fingers brushed his jaw. “I love you,” you repeated softly, your voice steady this time.

Logan’s hand slipped to your back, his fingers brushing against the hilt of the dagger tucked into your belt. His body tensed immediately, his eyes snapping open as realization dawned. “No,” he said, his voice breaking as he looked down at you. “No, don’t do this—”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, tears slipping down your cheeks. “But it has to be me.”

“No!” Logan’s shout was raw, guttural, but before he could stop you, you stepped away from him, your powers flaring to life.

Time slowed to a crawl. The swirling debris froze mid-air, the deadly energy emanating from Jean suspended in place. Logan’s desperate reach toward you was halted, his anguished expression frozen in time as you turned and began climbing the jagged slope toward Jean.

The effort of holding time still burned through you like fire, but you pushed forward, each step feeling heavier than the last. Jean stood at the center of the chaos, her eyes pitch black, her power a violent storm around her.

“Jean,” you whispered as you approached, your voice shaking. “I know you’re still in there.”

For a moment, her expression shifted—confusion, recognition, something painfully human flickered in her gaze. But the Phoenix surged, her power straining against your hold, and Jean’s features twisted into fury.

“I’m so sorry, Jean.”

Her expression changed, briefly, as her voice broke and a single tear trailed down her cheek, “save me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said again, your voice breaking as you pulled the dagger from your belt.

The blade was heavy in your hands, but your resolve didn’t waver. You lunged forward, driving the blade into her chest, straight into her heart.

Jean gasped, her eyes wide as the Phoenix’s power flared one last time before collapsing inward. The black faded from her eyes as she gave you a relieved smile. One that made her seem at peace as her body went limp in your arms.

The strain of holding time still finally became too much. As reality snapped back into motion, the force of it knocked you off your feet. You collapsed beside Jean, the world spinning around you as exhaustion overtook you.

You heard Logan’s voice before anything else.

“Y/N!”

It was a roar, raw and desperate, cutting through the ringing in your ears and the chaos that still lingered around you. You tried to respond, to tell him you were okay, but your body wouldn’t cooperate. The effort of stopping time, of reaching Jean, had taken everything you had left.

Footsteps thundered across the broken ground, and then he was there. Logan dropped to his knees beside you, his hands immediately reaching for you, shaking you gently but urgently. “Sweetheart, no, no—open your eyes,” he pleaded, his voice cracking as his hands moved from your face to your shoulders, searching for signs of life.

Your body was limp in his arms, your chest still, your face losing color.

Logan’s breaths came in short, harsh gasps as he pulled you against him, cradling you like you might slip away entirely if he let go. “Y/N,” he whispered, the single word a broken prayer, an unbearable weight of grief choking him. His hands shook as they smoothed over your hair, as though trying to coax you back to him with touch alone.

He didn’t notice Ororo land nearby, didn’t register her sharp intake of breath as she took in the scene. Her hand came up to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror, but she didn’t approach. Behind her, Bobby and Kitty stood frozen, their expressions stricken, but they too stayed back. Even Peter, with his usual strength and calm, had no words.

Logan didn’t care that they were there. Didn’t care about anything except the motionless weight in his arms. He rocked you slightly, his forehead pressing against yours as his ragged breaths turned into choked sobs. “You weren’t supposed to—damn it, you weren’t supposed to do this,” he growled, his voice breaking as he fought against the tears burning in his eyes. “Not this time. Not again.”

Logan pressed his lips to your forehead, his hands shaking as they cupped your face. “Come on, darlin’,” he whispered, his voice soft and cracked. “You’re stronger than this. You’re too stubborn to leave me. Just—just come back.”

The others stood frozen, unable to move, unable to interrupt the devastating scene unfolding before them. Ororo’s hand clutched her chest, tears streaking down her face as she turned away, giving Logan what little privacy she could in this moment of unbearable pain.

But Logan didn’t notice. He couldn’t notice. His world had narrowed to you—the unbearable stillness of your body, the haunting silence that surrounded you now.

He didn’t let go, even as the destruction around them finally began to settle, the last vestiges of Jean’s power fading into nothingness. His arms tightened around you, his forehead pressing to yours again as he whispered brokenly, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t save you. I’m so damn sorry.”

Time seemed to stand still in the worst possible way. For the first time in his long, painful life, Logan felt completely and utterly powerless. The ring he’d carried for over a century burned like a brand against his chest, a cruel reminder of all the promises he’d never been able to keep.

Logan buried his face against your neck, his voice raw as he whispered, “I was gonna tell you. About the ring. About everything. You—you deserved to know.” His thumb brushed over your cheek, as if he could will the life back into you.

He pulled back, his tear-streaked face contorted in anguish as he gazed down at you. “I love you,” he said, his voice breaking on every syllable. “I’ve loved you through every lifetime, and I’ll love you in the next one, too. But please, sweetheart, don’t make me wait again. Not this time. Please.”

His hands trembled as he touched your cheek again, his thumb brushing over your skin like it might bring you back. “I love you,” he repeated, his voice hoarse. “I’ll always love you.”

But you didn’t move. Your chest didn’t rise. You were gone.

Logan’s breath hitched as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead—one last desperate, lingering moment of tenderness. When he pulled back, his gaze swept over your still features, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and devastation.

Behind him, Ororo, Bobby, Kitty, and Peter stood at a distance, their faces drawn with grief. None of them moved to intervene. They knew better than to intrude on this moment, on Logan’s anguish.

The air felt impossibly heavy as Logan shifted, gathering your lifeless form into his arms. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though handling something too precious to break further. He cradled you close, his head bowing as he let out a shuddering breath. The others watched as he rose to his feet, every muscle in his body screaming in protest, though he showed no sign of it.

“Logan…” Ororo began softly, stepping forward.

He didn’t acknowledge her. His eyes were locked on you, his focus unwavering. Without a word, he turned away, carrying you toward the bridge. There was no Blackbird to take them home—Jean’s power had obliterated it along with so much else—but Logan didn’t seem to care about the logistics. His only concern was you.

The others exchanged a glance, but no one stopped him. Slowly, they followed at a respectful distance, the weight of what had just transpired pressing heavily on them all.

.......um, sorry???

there are 2 more chapters left! an interlude and then 'days of future past'!

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #i love you in every time #logan ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ #abby's works ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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imaginedreamwrite · 5 months ago

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Hi! I'm sleep deprived, I'm new to your blog, tried to find your rules (I may have missed it ngl but I wanna ask this now when I still remember it coz I have a memory of a goldfish). Idk if you're up to writing imagines???? But if you are, poly tf141 x reader (I'm leaning towards poly, but you do you) where reader and tf141 (or maybe each one of them if you want solo character x reader) are in a long time committed relationship, and reader found some things where she believed tf141 is cheating on her. She's dead set and has evidence (now you do you, either they were never cheating in the first place, or had, but regretted it. Anyways I just want angst but reader stays on top. )

I got issues lol

Have a great day! Feel free to ignore this, no worries 💙💙💙

In general my rules are very simple: I don’t write non-con/dub-con and I don’t write dd/lg, stepcest. I write spicy content occasionally and smut occasionally but it’s all consensual and if there is bondage included its all safe and in established relationships

I hope you don't mind, I made this a/b/I, I thought it would fit well with Alpha/Omega dynamics

Today was not the day; you were not the one.

You were annoyed, irritated by the standoffish rift in your relationship with your alpha's. Your boys who had been secretive in their conversations with each other, hiding behind excuses of training field exercises or debriefings.

It was hell for you, a torrential irritant that made your mood sour, fuelled by your curiosity to know what in the hell was going on with them. Captain John Price, the oldest of your alpha's, was naturally stoic and had looped in the rest of them into this quietude.

They weren’t outright ignoring you, they would never completely cut you off, not when you were part of this established relationship. However they were guarded, more closed off with whispers lingering between them.

Today was not the day; you were not the one.

It was hell, hectic and crazy in the base hospital after one of the new recruits had miscalculated the range of an explosive. While no one was seriously injured or had lost a limb, there was a large influx of soldiers needing care. You were thrown into it, elbows deep in young soldiers and private’s that were caught in the crossfire.

You were busy, running off your feet with the other nurses and the doctors attending. You were using that busyness as a distraction from the problems in your relationship. You didn’t allow yourself to think of what was going on, of why John, Simon, Gaz & Johnny were distancing themselves from you.

They loved you, you loved them. And yet it seemed as if they were closing in on themselves while you were left wondering what the hell you’d done wrong. You were a secure Omega, or you had tried to be anyway, but when all four of your alpha's were secretive it was impossible to ignore.

You were also a petty Omega and if they wanted to be secretive with you than you were going to give them that energy right back. And you weren't going to be quiet about it either.

When you had earned your first break of the day, after running off your feet like a headless chicken, you had been greeted at the base hospital doors by Gaz. One of your alpha's had shown up to speak to you, or maybe to spend a little time with you now that you had a moment to breathe. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you, not when the alpha's wanted to be secretive with each other.

Instead of greeting Gaz with the usual excitement, you had almost entirely brushed past him. Your eyes reflected your annoyance and your tone of voice was kept at neutral when you addressed him.

"I don't have time for you." You brushed him off, the first rejection of your alpha's was met with Kyle's confusion and a y'right? as you moved past him.

Captain Price was the next to be rebuffed, the next of your alpha's that you'd ignored and negated to speak to. He had appeared one of the storage rooms you were in, as you were searching for extra gauze and medical tape. The door opened and shut, and his strong presence lingered behind you.

"You ignored Gaz earlier. Something you wanna talk about?" His voice, which was usually soothing, was grating to your ears and the secrecy between the alpha's had only strengthened your resolve.

"I'm not ignoring Gaz, I'm ignoring all of you." You rebuffed his claim and shrugged off his hand when he tried to touch you, your teeth figuratively bared at your Alpha. "And I'm busy so-"

"We're going to talk about this now." John had tried cornering you, he would try and keep you exactly where you were so the conversation could continue.

"Respectfully get bent, captain." Your voice dripped with sarcasm and distaste, your eyes reflecting your usual veneration for your alpha's was hidden and disguised by your hurt over their secrecy. "I'm busy and I don't have time for you."

Your rebuffing of the oldest Alpha was felt throughout your little pack. First it was Gaz and then it was Price, the Sergeant and the captain feeling the first strike of your temporary rejection. However your rebuffing of the two was not going to stop Johnny from attempting to get you to crack.

The devilishly charming Scotsman had cornered you in the mess hall, sidling up to you with a tray full of food--hopeful that maybe you were just hungry and stressed. And like the good Alpha he tried to be, he had provided you with your favourite food, or at least all that was available on base.

"There's the little Omega, grumpy today aren't you?" His attempt at charming you into submission was vexing, and it had only soured your mood further. They wanted to be riddled in secrecy, they wanted to whisper among themselves and then try and butter you up when you gave them the same treatment? It was pissing you off.

"Fuck you," you snapped at him, shoving the tray back across the table toward him, that hurt driving you an emotional high that presented itself as guarded.

"Calm down, bon! I'm trying to keep ya fed-" You stood from the table you were at and left Johnny behind, no longer wanting to be around him or any of the other alpha's that you'd given yourself to.

You might have been a pack but at the moment you felt like the outsider. It pissed you off but even more than that, it stung you deeply. It had cut you deeper than you anticipated it to, it left you feeling insecure and vulnerable. The feeling of being on the outside made you want to find them, to yell and scream and demand they tell you what the hell was going on.

But you weren't going to give them the satisfaction. No, you were going to rebuff them just as you'd felt they'd done to you.

And after rejecting Gaz, Price and Johnny, there was only one Alpha you hadn't seen that day. You were holding out hope that you wouldn't see Simon, that you wouldn't come across Ghost, just to save you the headache.

You had almost thought you succeeded in avoiding him entirely, you had been busy working with the nurses in the base hospital. You were focused on dealing with the soldier's who required care after the training incident, grateful for the distraction. Of course any luck you'd felt while avoiding the other three had ended with a bang--quite literally--when Simon Riley had nearly bashed the doors of the hospital off it's hinged.

"You." He gave you no chance to run, to try and hide from your alpha's wrath, that you fully expected to be unleashed. Any attempt to run was immediately shut down when Simon grabbed the front of your scrubs and threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He said nothing, nothing but you in greeting and then carted you out of the base hospital like it was his God given right.

You squirmed, you hissed and cursed him out, dragging his name through every muddied curse word you could vocalise. You had fought to get yourself down from his shoulder and had swiftly received a smack on the ass as a warning. Only when Simon had returned to his room and you were deposited on his bed had you been addressed again.

"You've been in a piss poor mood all day. Speak." Simon slammed the door behind you both, locking it and closing off your means for escape. "Now, darlin'. I'm not waiting all night-"

"You're a bunch of assholes, you know that?" You sat up on his bed, your eyes narrowed and jaw ticking as you ground your teeth together. "You are all a bunch of dicks."

"And?" Simon's eyebrow raised in question, arms crossed over his chest as he stared you down. "What else is new, Omega?"

"You're being a dick and going behind my back, being all secretive and shut. How do you think that makes me feel?" You grabbed his pillow from behind you and threw it with as much force as you could muster, speaking through gritted teeth. "So fuck you and fuck-"

"Fuck me, Y/N!" Simon growled under his breath and rolled his eyes, starting to pace back and forth in front of the door. "Is that why you're all pissy?"

"God you're such an asshole!" You reached for another pillow, your fingers clenching against the cotton. "I'm feeling ignored-"

"Would you shut up for a moment?" He stopped pacing and turned to face you, his beautiful and cold eyes boring into you. "I love you darling, but you can be incredibly daft."

"Oh fuck-"

"Did you forget your birthday was next week, hmm?" Simon cut you off, speaking over you. His tone of voice shifted from irritated to surprisingly amused, a deep and husky chuckle falling from his lips.

"What?" Your eyes zeroed in on him, your defensiveness climbing while listening to him speaking, to him laughing at you. "What does-"

"Your birthday," Simon grinned, something you'd only seen in privacy within the pack and by yourself, "is next week. The reason we're all quiet around you is because we're planning something for you."

Your anger had risen and immediately deflated, your shoulders dropping when his words sunk into you. Your birthday was next week and your Alpha's were planning something. Your birthday, that you'd completely forgotten about, that you'd not even acknowledged, was the reason for all the secrecy.

"Oh." The sound was soft, your lips forming the oh as you repeated yourself again. "Well shit..."

Silence fell between you, and then you leaned back against the wall. You sighed with a mix of relief and exhaustion, finding the day's anger that was aimed at your Alpha's incredibly draining. But now that you knew the truth, you felt that weight being lifted from you.

"I guess I owe Gaz, Price and Johnny an apology." You tilted your head, watching Simon slowly walk toward you as if he was a predator stalking you.

"Not so fast, love. You're starting your apology here." Simon's smirk was incredibly indicative of what would happen in the next few hours--a physical bonding reinforced by him, and then the rest of your alpha's.

#Alpha!John Price x Omega!Reader #alpha!Simon Riley x Omega!Reader #Alpha!Kyle Gaz Garrick x Omega!Reader #Alpha!John MacTavish x Omega!Reader #tf 141 x reader #poly 141 x reader #poly 141 #miscommunication Monday #miscommunication modays

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dolicekiss · 1 year ago

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Good afternoon/morning!

If you are still taking requests, I'd love to ask if you could maybe do a yandere Hannibal x reader (female if that would be okay) one-shot where the reader is one of Hannibals favourite patients (maybe shes a writer who gets alot of nightmares or something).

However, during one of their sessions, she reveals that she is withdrawing as she is moving back to Europe (this obvi messes up whatever plans Hannibal had for her). Perhaps she is moving away because she has realised how dangerous Hannibal really is and does not want to get involved.

It would be interesting to see how you would interpret Hannibals' thoughts, feelings, and next plan of action after hearing such daunting news.

Thank you <3

♡: i hope i did this justice

Shattered Dreams

PAIRING: Yandere!Hannibal X Patient!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: yandere hannibal, implied stalking, coercion, manipulation, mention of death, trauma, nightmares, mind games, mention of blood

Draped in a beautiful silk dress, a cashmere coat over your shoulders, your presence was loud and evident in Hannibal Lecter’s office.

You reminded him of him.

Charming, sophisticated, beautiful and completely enthralling. He knew somewhere he was too similar to you and that resonated with him. An attachment had already formed, an ethical sort of attachment which could put his career into danger

Yet he found himself not caring.

His main focus was you.

He often found himself imagining you by his side, as his other half. His soulmate, the only one for him and solely the mere imagination pleased him but it worked to increase his hunger too.

Anytime a patient other than you would show up, he'd have a scowl on his face and tend to their needs like he was being held at gun point.

But when you'd come.

It was like fucking spring had arrived in his office. Flowers blooming, radiance everywhere and even your scent was sweet like floral.

Here you were, once more in his office to converse about the demons that haunted you. Hannibal was the best at his job, too good but deep down, you'd already caught whiff of the danger that he was and could amount to.

He scared you.

No matter how many sweet smiles he'd sent you, the amount of terms of endearment he'd use to address to you — none of it concealed the monstrosity he harbored inside him. You'd captured it and now you were in a dilemma.

Whether to leave or tell the law enforcement.

You inhaled sharply and then slowly exhaled, a breathing exercise Hannibal had taught you to help you regulate your breathing.

“Everything alright, miss?” His gruff voice pulled you back into reality and you nodded your head quickly, not wanting him to know that you knew about his depraved instincts.

You smiled softly. “Yes.”

“Did you have nightmares again?”

“Yes.” You responded truthfully. “It does not matter how many books I write, how many characters I kill, there seems to be no end to these nightmares.”

Your nightmares stemmed from an accident you'd faced as a child. The only survivor were you, the only kin left while the rest of your family had died. Right before your very gaze.

It did not matter how much sleeping pills you took or how much coffee you drank. As soon as you'd fall into a slumber, the haunting eyes of your deceased mother would always stare back at you — lifeless and soulless.

And no matter how many times you dreamed of the bloody incident, you did not find yourself forgetting about them. You wanted to forget it, blur out the faces of your famo members but as each day passed by, it only grew more vivid and clear.

Its like your brain was working in reverse.

“Have you tried what I asked you to do?”

You looked up at him.

There it was, that smile of his.

It had nearly worked to trap you.

But you caught onto the danger looming beneath him. You were no foreigner to danger and Hannibal Lecter was a blood thirsty man who killed, killed and savored. You had no desire to end up as his meal. Or buffet.

“I need to tell you something.”

When you'd uttered those words out, Hannibal could already sense something wasn't right. You didn't appear as your usual self. You were rather, chatty and spoke to him about your problems. Worked together as a team to cure this plague that had jeopardized your sleep.

But today you were different.

Quiet, reserved, hands stable and placed over your knees.

Hannibal gestured for you to go ahead.

“I have decided to move to Europe.” You broke the news with a deep breath. Fingers bending and nails grazing across the fabric of your dress.

Hannibal tilted his head in confusion.

Akin to a puppy.

He didn't see any problem with your sessions nor did he find you troublesome. He was sure you also liked him, as your therapist but you did. There was some sort of fondness, between the two of you. There had to be. You were his favorite, you'd become a part of him without even realizing or intending to do so and now you wanted to leave?

Leave him?

There was not a corner in the world made for you to hide from him. Anywhere you'd go, he would find you.

Hannibal blinked, the darkness within him clawing at him, clawing for you. Commanding him over and over again to offer you drugged wine and take you so you wouldn't leave for Europe.

He put on a polite smile, hoping that would veil the darkness in him. “May I ask why?”

Your lips shuddered. “For a change. I think moving away from here would be better since my whole family died here, maybe the nightmares will stop occurring.”

Those nightmares might stop occurring but the nightmare Hannibal was about to become wouldn't stop.

You noticed the subtle change in his gaze and shifted in your seat, uncomfortable and uneasy.

Hannibal nodded, feigning understanding but he was all over the place. Everything was under his control — every damn thing since the beginning. How did he begin to lose control? There was absolutely no way he could let you move to Europe, let you get far away from him where he can't bask in the vision of you.

He would go to the ends of the Earth just to catch a mere glimpse of you.

He had to coax you out of this. Use coercion into making you stay here for the rest of your life.

Hannibal had plans for you.

Big plans.

He was going to make you his, bring you closer to him, unveil a part of him that no one had ever seen before.

He'll he'd fucking told you about Mischa today and no one knew about her. He had shown you parts of him no one had seen and now you were going to abandon him? Take those parts of him witj you and leave him empty, fucking lonely and abandoned?

Oh Hannibal was not going to let that happen.

He nearly felt angry.

Rage bubbling up inside him but he controlled it, calming it down.

“You have a life here, miss. A proper life; friends, colleagues, relatives. Don't you think abandoning it all would be a bit too extreme and intense, even for you?”

You bit on your lower lip.

In a way he was right.

Your whole life you had lived it here. Friends, closest of closest, relatives — the only blood relation left after the demise of your own and colleagues. It was all too difficult to leave them behind but fear was a tool which worked to push people to do things they never would've even thought about.

You swallowed. “I know, Doctor Lecter but these nightmares haunt me. These memories do not disappear, so it is better that I leave.”

Hannibal started to play with his hands.

They sat comfortably over his knees and all he could do was toss and turn his fingers, scratch his palm, the only way to actually show the unbridled emotion he was overwhelmed with. Yet his face carried a sweet smile like he was completely happy and supportive of your decision.

Hannibal saw how your lips shuddered when you spoke. They often shuddered when you'd lie in the beginning about your feelings, about how you did not miss your deceased family one bit.

He wondered if you were lying.

His own fingers tracing along his lips.

“Have you thought about where you'd go to? I mean, Europe is a vast place.” Hannibal commented and you swallowed, in a dilemma whether you should reveal your whereabouts or not.

It was a country.

A huge country.

He couldn't actually find you there, right?

“France.” You said, with a subtle smile on your face.

You wanted to get out of your comfortable seat, go home, pack your bags, board the plane and never look back. The man sitting before you was a killer, a cannibalistic serial killer and you didn't allow that to sink it at all in his presence.

Afraid your demeanor would break.

It would shatter and he'd capture you.

Hannibal grinned.

That was all he needed.

“Marseille is a beautiful city.” Hannibal said while his hawk like gaze analyzed your facial expressions.

Nothing.

You nodded in agreement. “So I've heard.”

“And Lyon too. I've been there.” He said, standing up from his couch and moving over to stand by his wooden desk. When he mentioned Lyon, not a single crease formed on your face nor did your lips shiver.

So it wasn't Lyon either.

Hannibal was viciously smart and he was going to find the city you were going to settle in sooner or later. “Nice has beautiful art. You should go there too.”

Your face scrunched up.

Hannibal caught that. The little crease of discomfort forming in your forehead and a feeling of satisfaction spread in his insides.

You were moving there.

“I think I should go now, Doctor Lecter.” You said, standing up when you realized your session had ended a long time ago.

This was the last session you'd ever share with him.

Hannibal walked towards you, hand extended out. “It was nice having you as my patient, sweetheart. Hopefully your nightmares will slowly disappear with time.”

Even though it was a goodbye, it did not feel like it.

Your gaze dropped down to his hand and you nodded, taking his hand and shaking it. His hold grew a little firm but you didn't say anything, slowly releasing his hand and retrieving it. “Thank you, Doctor Lecter. For all your help.”

He grinned as he watched you turn around and leave his office.

This was not going to be the last time you'll see of the man and he'll make sure of that.

Hannibal licked his lips. The sound of the door shutting putting a crack in his heart — his chest aching for a glimpse of you but he knew this wasn't the end. There was more, with him, there was always more.

You could not escape this easily.

— ♡ —

Months had passed.

You were still adjusting your life in this new country, surrounded by new people who speak a completely different language but you were still learning.

Your nightmares had deceased greatly by spending time in a foreign country and in a way, you were thankful for Hannibal. Because of him you'd abandoned your birth place — which honestly plagued you.

There was nothing left for you there.

Only bad memories and horrific nightmares.

You'd forgotten about nearly everything in that country except a certain blonde; Hannibal Lecter.

He still haunted you.

After that last session, you never possibly heard from him ever again. You met a man too, who claimed to have feelings for you but the next day he was reported for bad behavior against women. They had removed him from your workplace.

You felt a little sad that a man like that had shown interest in you.

Still, life was getting better and better.

You were still writing and had signed a deal with a new publishing house but other than that, you gave lectures at a university for your own knowledge and sake.

Your life felt like it had finally fallen into place.

“They have a new lecturer, have you seen him?” A female colleague asked and you looked up at her from your laptop. You shook your head.

The woman smiled. “Well, he'll be here soon. He's done PHD and has a masters degree too.”

You blinked a little but then went back to typing on your laptop, finishing the last chapter of your book. Break was finished after a few minutes but this time instead of heading back to your class, you were told to head to the office and give the new lecturer a tour.

Apparently he was a big deal, someone who had studied the human mind through and through.

You made your way to the office, opening the door with a smile. The dean sat there but the familiar mop of blonde slicked back hair caught your attention more — your fingers tightening around the metal hold of the door.

He turned around and with a smile, greeted you. “Hello, sweetheart.”

Hannibal was in Nice, in your university, as a lecturer.

Your face went pale.

Was there truly no escape from him?

#hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal one shot #hannibal fanfic #hannibal #hannibal fanfiction #mads mikkelsen #hannibal nbc #nbc hannibal #mads mikkelsen fanfic #tw yandere #hannibal smut #mimi writes ☆

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glowettee · 7 months ago

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hiii! i love your acc, it's so cute :3 i was wondering if you could do a post about self-love, it's something i've been struggling w/ lately. thank youuu

uncommon but life-changing self-love practices (that actually work) 🎀

posted by: glowettee

hey angel! thank you for this question in my mailbox! and ahhhh thank you so much you're so sweet!! i'm sorry this post was a little late, self-care is soooo important, i want to give you some tips that you don't hear to often that i do in my self-love journey! i'll share some not-so-obvious self-love practices that literally changed my life! ♡

♡ redefining your space psychology because your environment shapes your self-perception:

bedroom makeover with intention:

rearrange furniture to face the sunrise (this literally changed my morning mindset!)

create a "victory wall" with tiny achievements (i put up a photo of my first B- grade that turned into an A-)

place mirrors strategically (not just for selfies, but for daily affirmations)

use color psychology (i painted one wall rose quartz pink in my room and it actually improved my mood)

create a dedicated self-love corner (mine has fairy lights, positive letters from friends, and little trinkets from my childhood, along with printed photos from pinterest with self-love affirmations/lists.

♡ morning practices instead of basic routines, try these instead:

the "main character energy" morning:

write how your day went (successfully) and about yourself in third person (like "mindy gracefully picked up her pen, to conquer calculus, she did all her chores, and even studied japanese for 2 hours.")

practice "mirror dating" (spend 5 mins having an actual conversation with yourself - it's weird but works!)

create a "today i choose" list (instead of a to-do list)

dance to one song before doing anything else (i do taylor swift, or newjeans obviously)

write a love letter to a body part you're struggling with (i wrote to my uncooperative hair and now we're besties <3)

♡ digital self-love (but make it intentional) because we live online but need boundaries:

phone transformation:

change your passwords to affirmations (mine is a variation of "mindyisworthy2025")

create a folder of your awkward photos (embrace the cringe! and laugh with your friends, its so fun)

record yourself modeling, or pretending your a celebrity or k-pop idol

take selfies without filters (document your real smile)

set random alarms with love notes to yourself

hide little sticky notes with cute reminders about yourself in your room, so when you stumble upon it a month later it'll make you smile!

social media rebellion:

post the photos you'd usually delete (even if it's made private)

share your real study space (messy notes and all)

document your growth journey (even the uncomfortable parts)

create a finsta for your completely unfiltered self

make reels about your self-love journey (even if they're private)

♡ physical self-love (the weird but effective version) not basic bubble baths:

unexpected body appreciation:

thank your body parts for specific things ("thank you hands for letting me write my study notes")

have a private dance party in weird places (i do this in elevators when i'm alone)

wear your prettiest clothes to study, or even to the grocery store (even if no one sees)

make up your own choreography to your favorite songs

make your own workout or stretching routine with different stretches/exercises you make up yourself

comfort zone expansion:

try eating alone in public (start small - i began with coffee shops)

wear that "special occasion" outfit to class

speak up in class even if your voice shakes

send yourself flowers to your dorm/apartment (I LOVE DOING THIS EVERY VALENTINES <33)

take yourself on cute dates (let a coin flip decide where you go! or ask google.)

♡ emotional archaeology dig deeper than surface-level feelings:

create an emotion museum:

keep a "weird thoughts" journal (mine has my 3am existential questions)

make a playlist for each mood (even the uncomfortable ones)

collect "emotional souvenirs" (me and my grandmother had a cafe date a few years ago, and i still keep the receipt today)

document your crying sessions (trust me, looking back at these helps)

write letters to your past and future self

validation exercises:

practice saying "my feelings about this are valid" in the mirror

create a "proof of worth" folder on your phone

collect screenshots of nice messages

record yourself giving pep talks

keep a "wins" journal (especially tiny ones)

♡ advanced self-love techniques for when you're ready to level up:

relationship building with yourself:

schedule weekly "self-dates" (i do wednesday coffee dates with myself)

create a personal manifesto (update it monthly)

develop inside jokes with yourself

celebrate monthly self-love anniversaries

create traditions just for you

growth documentation:

take progress polaroids (not just physical)

voice record your daily thoughts

measure growth in unconventional ways (like "times i chose myself")

create time capsules every season

write monthly letters to yourself

self-love isn't just face masks and bubble baths (though those are nice too!). it's about building a deep, weird, wonderful relationship with yourself. it's about becoming your own best friend, confidante, and biggest supporter.

some of these might seem strange at first, but that's okay! the best relationships often have their quirks. start with what feels right and slowly expand your comfort zone. it's not just about practicing self-love, it's also about creating your own unique love language with yourself!

you're doing amazing things just by being you, and i'm so proud of you for prioritizing this journey! remember, the relationship you have with yourself sets the tone for every other relationship in your life.

xoxo, mindy 🎀

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sakachichi · 5 months ago

Text

I just rewatched demon slayer and re-read painter of the night and got the biggest brain explosion ever 😛 so now I’ll let my brain juices flow 😁

Imagine!Suguru in his gojo-kesa, he’s the son of a prestigious family. Everyone knows them, they’re one of the nicest noble families in Japan — so kind they let the poor live under their roof until they get a good job. Suguru is their only son of course and takes after his parents nice character, he’s soooo charming and modest everyone fawns over him, so many people had tried to get their daughters married off to him but he kindly refuses.

Until you came along, he’s always know about you, he knows about everyone — but you…you are the main person he focuses on. And you are so oblivious to him, everywhere you go he’s there, almost lurking around but at the same time making himself known. From time to time he’ll say hi and you’ll greet him back with the most beautiful brightest smile known to man, and he practically melts. Gosh to have you wrapped around his finger, he would give up everything for you.

When the summer festivals came around you were out with your friends, having such a blast and he was alone. ‘How can someone so kind be alone?’ You asked yourself before leaving your friends behind to be with Suguru.

“May I accompany you my lord?” Your voice so soft and sweet, it’s like music to he ears. He couldn’t help but smile and nod, “yes of course”. His plan worked. He came alone for a reason.

Suguru made it his mission to woo you that very same day, make you fall for him so hard you’ll forget about every other man that has and will ever exist. Engaging in your silly conversations, chucking at your clumsy behavior as you trip over nothing, holding your hand in the process. His face glued with concern as he asks you if you’re ok, your eyes twinkle at his politeness. He’s charmed you already.

Everything you would point at he would buy, you left the festival with him carrying you on his back, and holding everything he bought you as well. Your hands felt his strong shoulders, behind his thick clothes he muscles were still so prominent. He’s so strong, it makes you bite your lip as try not let out a girlish giggle. “Lord Suguru…how’d you get so strong?” You ask innocently, a wide grin molds onto his pretty pink lips

“Hmm let’s see, well for starters I eat good, and I do lots of exercise” he replied, mindlessly his hands find their way to yours, his thumbs caressing your hands but you didn’t seem to notice, it felt almost normal to you.

“Oooh I see” you hum, smiling softly. Your falling for him so hard, your pupils turning into heart shapes as he continues to talk about something, you really didn’t pay attention to anything he was saying — just starting at his breath taking side profile.

“Alright, here we are” he grunts as he carefully sets you down, patiently waiting for you to gather yourself. “Would you like me to help you with your things, my lady?” He politely asked, slightly holding up his hands. You hesitate, your father would cry out if he saw you with a man, especially if your not getting married to him. Your hands were already full with even more of your things, you sigh as you slightly panic.

Whats their to worry though? It’s night time, your parents are fast asleep. And he’ll just be in and out, right?

Sure…

Guyyyyssss I’ve been obsessed with everything old, ykwim? 😭 yall should see my Pinterest 😵‍💫🤚 but anyways ways yes, I was eating my snack and this popped into my head, yk when u finish watching something you lwky start to act or think the way the characters do? That happened to me lol, and I was like what better person to do this with than Suguru Geto the king himself 😻😻 honestly I would finish rn but I’m quite literally lazy ash 🤧

Part 2 thoooo????? Or nah 👀👅

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fruitcoops · 2 months ago

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Hiii! I have been LOVING your fics (and there’s so many!! (SCORE!!!!)💕💕

I was wondering if we could see the conversation between Nat and Kasey after Remus leaves the PT room? Whether it’s in the room or when they go home, the hurt/comfort potential😩

Heartache and bittersweetness go hand in hand with Thursday afternoons sometimes. Cheers! Characters belong to @lumosinlove :)

TW for canon injury symptoms (Kasey) and extremely mild Vaincre spoilers

“It’s not okay.” But that’s not all, is it? That’s not the end of it. Kasey swallows, hard, hard enough to make his throat hurt like the rest of him. His left ear is still buzzing from impact. The words are tearing a hole in his chest. Just sitting there, ripping him open. Natalie is quiet beside him. Her hand in his is firm. “It’s…”

He can’t. He won’t.

“And it’s never going to be.” Kasey can hear the pain in his own voice. Seismic tremors rattling his gut until the hunger flees. Natalie squeezes his hand. He takes a sharp breath in and lets it out fast. “It’s never going to be,” he repeats. “It’s just not.”

Her fingertips knead his knuckles, then bring them to her mouth. The kiss is soft and sticky with gloss. It lingers. He’s frozen to the table. “I love you,” she says against his skin. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Me, too.” He blinks fast. His family is in the box, somewhere. They’ll leave early again. It’s tradition at this point. He doesn’t want to cry here, in the quiet recovery room. It’s theirs as long as they need it, according to Remus, but it’s not—he wants to be home. He wants to stand under the running shower until he comes back to his body, but quite frankly he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stand that long. Remus will knock in a few minutes. Then they’ll go. Heat slips down toward his ear. Kasey runs a harsh hand down his face and pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut until they’re dry.

Natalie sighs. Thin paper crinkles under the weight of her head coming to rest beside him.

“It fucking hurts,” Kasey manages, hoarse and coarse.

“I know, baby,” she whispers. Another kiss finds his thumb. “God, I know, it’s so unfair.”

“I’m doing everything right.” It’s weak. He feels weak. “I’m in here three fucking days a week just fucking working on it and I do everything at home, you know I do.”

Natalie sniffs. It’s a quiet thing. “You do.”

“I do every fucking thing.” His vocal cords strain like he’s sick. There’s a block of ice on his ribs, pressing down without pause. “I do it all right and I’m still here. I don’t want this.”

Natalie, as always, gives him time. How many times has he stayed here, rescheduling a coffee date or calling to say he’ll be home later than expected because Remus is a fucking saint and works with him for hours on end? How many times has she seen him wince when he gets into bed? Their fridge is covered in pages of exercises stuck high with magnets from across the world. Written and printed and hand-edited by a hand of endless patience. Remus must be tired of him. Months of work and so little to show for it now.

Kasey turns his head to the side and she meets him there with her forehead pressed flush to the slope of his nose. She smells like vanilla and bay rum and the family box’s pilled carpet. “I want one more year,” he tells her. “One more.”

“Okay.”

“And if I can make it…” The thought seizes him by the heart and squeezes. “If it’s good, I’ll stay.”

She brushes the tip of her nose against his cheek. “Okay.”

Kasey swallows again. It’s not getting easier. “If it’s bad, I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

Her free hand cups his jaw in gentle warmth. The pad of her thumb fits just right behind the hinge, running over the small space under his ear. The buzzing dulls. Natalie kisses his forehead for one second, two. “You are doing so well,” she says, fierce and quiet. “So fucking well. I am so proud of you. And whatever you decide to do, I’m going to be right here, and I’m still going to be proud of you.”

Six years, and he’s still not sure what to do with kindness that could buckle the world. She’s still wearing his jersey, like she always does, even when he isn’t playing. The machinations of the universe work in ways he cannot understand. And in some ways, he hopes he never does. It is cruel and harsh and so painful it leaves him breathless, and yet he is allowed the privilege of Natalie Darcy. She loved him when he was a tangled mess, when half his heart laid on the floor of a New York airport. She loved him when he was on top of the world, and she loves him here.

She’s here. In the dark and quiet, while ice slowly numbs his leg and her hand warms his face. Kasey closes his eyes.

He knows by the prickling on his neck that Alex is reading him. Dark eyes would dart away the moment he looked up, but Kasey has been around this block for going on ten years. Alex is quick and clever and approximately as subtle as a train when it comes to staring. There’s a gravity to him that he can’t put away, and he has always—always—used it to flip through Kasey’s pages like a worn-out magazine.

“Hi, Alex.”

“Hello.” There’s a smile in it. Alex wants him to know he’s looking, then.

“Can I help you?”

Alex makes a humming noise. “You can just stay there looking cute. Need anything?”

“Nope.”

“Nat and I made lemonade earlier.”

“Cool.”

A significant pause follows. “Alright.”

Usually, Kasey likes these games. Alex, poking at his edges and fiddling with each lever and keyhole until he puzzles out every halfhearted defense and is let in. It worked the day they met and every single one since. It’s enriching for the both of them. It’s also very good practice for Kasey to actually let his inner monologue out and for Alex to not let his brain go chasing after assumptions.

Today is…hard. He woke up stiff from hip to ankle and immediately tweaked his knee when he turned over to get blood flowing back into his foot. He’s been so good lately, and the thigh is still angry. So angry, in fact, that he’s not sure he can do his ankle circles without feeling it flare through his calf.

Alex’s footfalls are soft on the approach. Kasey’s flare of annoyance is ridiculous, unfounded, and uncontrollable—but it’s there, and he drags a palm up and down his face a few times to try and clear it off his face. It’s not Alex’s fault. It’s nobody’s, really, even though it’s a much nicer world to live in when he can pin the blame and pain on someone or something.

Alex bypasses the edge of the couch before Kasey can even begin moving to make room, and settles on the windowsill with his chin on his folded knees. Kasey holds his gaze. His world has held many rewards for being unyielding.

“Want me to drive you to Lupin’s?”

Yes, the annoyance was silly and misplaced. Kasey exhales through his nose and lays his head on the cushioned arm; in the space of a breath, Alex’s fingertips are running through the ends of his hair. “No,” he says, miserable and petulant.

“You’re gonna be okay getting there?”

No. Alex has plans this afternoon, a movie with some old friends. Playing chauffeur is an interruption he doesn’t need. Kasey’s calf snarls at the thought of pressing the brake pedal. He sighs again, just for the effect and release. “I’ll call him. He can come here.”

The thought of imposing makes Kasey want to chew through the couch cushions despite Remus’ voice in his head telling him to call any time, it’s no trouble for me to do a house call. The cover looks terribly appetizing when he glances over at his phone.

Alex stretches to scritch above his ear. It feels good enough to make Kasey’s heart hurt. “That’s nice of him. I’ll pick up around the kitchen, what time is your appointment?”

Hardly a bat of an eyelash at his neediness. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Nah, I made lunch. Left a total mess.” He closes his eyes as Alex twists the front locks off his face. “It’s good for me to have a deadline that’s not, like, the minute I have to leave, you know? I always end up leaving a pot or something in the sink.”

“You do,” Kasey mumbles. His head is getting heavy.

“Gonna take a nap first?”

“Mmm.” It sounds nice. He can hardly feel the ache like this. An experimental wiggle of his toes sends a thin line of pain up to his hamstring and he scowls, pushing harder into Alex’s hand. “How are we feeling about at-home amputation?”

“Hmm. Generally negative.”

“D’you think Nat will be on board?”

“Definitely not. She likes this couch.”

Kasey wrinkles his nose and presses it into soft fabric, where it’s warm and scratchy and dark enough to make his vision sparkle. Alex’s sympathetic noise helps more than it should. “Appointment’s from three to four.”

Alex clucks his tongue. “Bummer, I’ll just miss it. Say hi to him for me, though.”

He’s genuine in a way Kasey cannot understand. There are no defenses up in those big brown eyes, only worry and affection in heavy pours. Alex pouts his lower lip out at him and Kasey huffs despite himself.

“Poor baby.”

“I am.” He is.

Alex leans across the short distance between them and lands a hard kiss to the top of his head. He smells like cinnamon and whiskey this close. “Mwah. Healed.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Any interest in being the Lions’ PT? I hear a spot opened up.”

“Ooo, do I get a sexy hockey player out of it?”

Kasey snorts. “I think they’re doing their best to cancel those benefits.”

“Damn. Maybe I’m more suited to at-home care.”

It’s such a pretty day outside. He wants to go. The drive to Cap’s house is stunning this time of year, and there shouldn’t be traffic this late in the day. If he can make it around the block for coffee, he'll reconsider calling Remus.

Kasey buries his face in the cushion again with a frustrated groan. “This sucks.”

A hand returns to rub at the base of his skull. How Alex knew he had a headache building there is a mystery, but Kasey will take the wins where he can. They’re few and far between on days like this. The angle is such that he can kiss the inside of Alex’s forearm when he turns his head. The few freckles he has there are faint from months out of Florida; Kasey takes one gently between his teeth and Alex’s laugh shudders against the couch.

The phone rings three or four times before Remus picks up. “Hey, Bliz, what’s up?”

“Shit’s fucked.”

“Yeah,” comes the sympathetic answer. “Want me to come over?”

“Unless I can figure out how to sit without…sitting.”

“Oof, sorry, no ideas there. Three still works?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Kasey’s going to call the Pope next and get him canonized.

“ ‘Course, it’s no trouble at all.”

He’s glad they’re past the point of you know you can always call Layla and I’m really not allowed to use the same facilities as before. Even those reminders had felt half-hearted. He liked Layla plenty, but she hadn’t seen him through the trenches. She hadn’t held his leg with careful steadiness as it spasmed after an overtime game, or sat with him on the floor for twenty minutes just to talk through the muck. Kasey would go to her for anything but this, and Remus knows him well enough to know that.

“Alright,” he says. “See you then?”

“I’ll be there.”

He catches Alex’s eye from across the kitchen and fights a smile. “Alex says hi, by the way.”

Remus’ laugh crackles over the line. “Hi, Alex.”

He says hi, Kasey mouths. Alex pumps his fist before turning back to the sink. “Nat misses you, too.”

“Aw, she’s still in Rome, right?”

“Three more days,” Kasey sighs. “I’ve been replaced by pasta and flatbread.”

“I’ll keep you in my thoughts.”

“Are you going to electrocute me again today?”

“Only if you deserve it.”

Kasey grins down at a loose thread on his hoodie. “Kiss Cap for me before you go.”

“You know he looks forward to it.”

It’s a running bit, one of his favorite things to come out of Remus’ series of life overhauls. In a small, secret way, Kasey is grateful they haven’t lost that in the chaos of a long year. Those two are his in a way few others are. He keeps them in a pocket of their own now, stitched together like the one by his heart that holds Natalie and Alex. Safe and secure, away from prying eyes. He supposes they don’t need his protection, but he gives it anyway. Too much time spent watching their backs for anything else.

It'll be a long two hours until Remus arrives. Alex is almost done with their cast-iron pan. If Kasey looks pathetic enough, he might just be able to talk him into a latte for being so brave.

#kasey winter #alex o'hara #natalie darcy #remus lupin #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #hurt/comfort

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youhideastar · 18 days ago

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what are some of your favorite fics of all time? like they continually bounce around your head favorites?

Oh, man, what an incredible ask - thank you for the opportunity to revisit some long-time favorites, and thank you for specifying what kind of favorite you meant, as opposed to, e.g., "these brought me the most pleasure" or "these were the most skillfully written." The fics that bounce around my head are these:

Early Returns by @rageprufrock (2011) (Inception, 16K, Arthur/Eames, newspaper AU): Hands-down the funniest thing I have ever read, fan or pro. I would kill to have a distinct style like this. The humor works because the angst works - incredibly valuable lesson for me to re-learn every time I re-read.

Blooded Crown by @astolat (2017) (The Witcher video game, 24K, Geralt/Emhyr, devious plotting): I could quote half the lines this fic, but the scene with Lord and Lady Fliran in particular is so good it makes my bones hurt. The treatment of OCs and the deep investment in admin worldbuilding are so influential for me.

Misethere by @astolat (2017) (The Witcher video game, 46K, Geralt/Emhyr, further devious plotting plus aphrodisiacs): Intricate plot that still kills on the re-read. "The best men will not serve an unpopular empress" is a line I have wanted to use in my daily life for years, would that my colleagues would read this so I could!

Throw My Head Away by Alestar (2002) (X-Men comics, ~6K, Bobby/Hank, class clown has identity crisis): This is actually the fic I MOST wish everyone would read so I could quote from it. "What do you want?" / "I want to. do. things." / "what things?" / "Things! that I don't do!" It sounds dumb out of context but lives in my head forever.

Some Kept Safe by Liviapenn (2004) (X-Men and Spider-Man, 9K, Peter/Logan, tw: rape, intoxicants): Peter breaks my heart in this. Lots of writers have tackled this trope but it's Peter's refusal to let his suffering change who he is that has stuck with me for 20 years.

Courage by helenish (2012) (The Eagle | Eagle of the Ninth, 2K, Esca/Marcus, misunderstandings and masculinity): Over and over in my own fic I write about characters attaching symbolic, emotional, and even political weight to particular sex acts, but this fic is the ultimate version of that. The nonpareil.

MVP by @cesperanza (2006) (Stargate: Atlantis, 12K, Sheppard/McKay, don't read other people's psych evals): The line "secretly a moralist, though he will act to save others even as he judges them" has been stuck in my head for almost two decades, largely because I'm in this picture and I don't like it. 😂

This Tornado Loves You by @rabbitcrimes (2022) (The Untamed/MDZS, 9K, Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian, identity porn AND competence porn): As stated supra, I would kill for a distinct voice like this. I laugh out loud every time I re-read it, but it's Wei Wuxian's conversation with the rats that sticks with me most, creepy and moving and the very best of Yiling Laozu Hot.

All Old Things Are New Again by @thefeelswhale (2021) (The Untamed/MDZS, 52K, Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian, sex work AND competence porn): I hate reincarnation plots, most sex worker/client romance leaves me cold, but this fic moved into the valley between the hemispheres of my brain and shows no signs of leaving.

For a Good Time, Call by @scarlettohairdye (2020) (The Untamed/MDZS, 171K, Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian, finding your crush's OnlyFans): I've never seen a POV character fuck up this bad while remaining this sympathetic. The climactic revelation scene is unforgettable... plus a smorgasbord of outstanding sex scenes!!

navel-gazing under the cut, feel free to skip 😂

This was a super interesting exercise for me - one I've never undertaken before.

I guess what stands out to me is the variety: 6-7 fandoms, only one repeat author, word counts from 2K to 171K, widely distributed across the last 23 years. 3 of them are from fandoms where I've never seen the source material (The Witcher and The Eagle), and another 3 are from fandoms I wasn't ever super into. There are fics for which I don't think you need to know much about canon (1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 10) and fics where you really, really need to know at least who the characters are (4, 7, 8, and 9). There are fics I re-read at least once a year and some I hadn't re-read in years but still remember incredibly well. There's angst; there's humor. There are fics that I consider peak examples of the kind of thing that I myself write (5, 6), fics I could not write even if you paid me a million bucks (1, 8, 9), and fics that fall in between (the rest).

Basically, fandom is incredible; fic authors are incredible; I'm so grateful to have read widely and discovered these incredible stories that have stayed with me for so many years. If there's a takeaway, I think it's to read the work of great authors even if it's something you might not otherwise think you'd be into. You might discover a lifelong story-friend!

Thank you again for the ask, anon - it was a delight. ❤️

#asks #fic recs #fic asks

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genericpuff · 2 months ago

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Bit of a craft question! How do you ensure characters all have different motivations, personalities, and speaking styles and stay consistent with that? I struggle since they're all coming from my own voice and head. And it leads to characters not having differing goals and reactions enough except for the ones clearly in opposition.

(Kinda like LO imo where characters can sometimes boil down to being Evil or Persades Stans.)

ouu so I don't have a super straightforward answer to this because I'm also still perfecting my own craft every day and learning how to write all kinds of characters, but! One exercise I like to do is write hypothetical scenarios with the characters I'm exploring. These aren't necessarily canon scenes, just writing exercises to help me get into the heads of each one. Kinda like writing fanfic for yourself LMAO It can help you isolate and identify specific traits, flaws, hopes, fears, and other unique aspects about your character(s), by putting them in scenarios they might not be in otherwise. How they behave within those kinds of hypothetical scenarios can help inform you as to how they'd behave within actual canon scenarios !

If you want some examples, here are some prompts you can try for yourself! :

Character A's alarm doesn't go off and they wake up late for work/school. How do they react? What decisions do they make?

Characters A / B / C / D go on a road trip together. How do they each plan for their trip? What do they pack? Who drives and who controls the music? How do they work around each other, and how do they handle the mishaps along the way? Where are they even going and why do they all want to get there?

Characters A / B / C / D play a round of baseball (or [insert sport here]). Who are the sore losers? (or the sore winners?) Who gets way too into it and who opts to sit on the bench doing crosswords instead?

Characters A and B crash at a hotel overnight and there's only one bed. How do they handle this way-too-common situation?

Characters A / B / C / D are at a party, and the vibes have relaxed to a late-night-porch-conversation. What stories do they tell each other? How do they react to each one?

I hope that helps!! Good luck! :)

#ask me anything #anon ama #ama #anon ask me anything #writing advice

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sallyfisher1312 · 2 months ago

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Quality Time Headcanons

Bad Batch x reader

Masterlist

A/n: I've been really busy recently, sorry for disappearing. I wrote these in between my study breaks and was going to wait to proof read it later, but I don't know when I'll have the time for that so forgive me for any misspellings.

Warnings: None I think, let me know if there's any.

Characters: Hunter, Echo, Wrecker, Crosshair and Tech x reader.

Word Count: ~1.1k.

Hunter

As the Seargent of the Batch, consequently also being responsible for his brothers, he’s the busiest and can’t spend much time with his partner and brothers other than during long travels in the Marauder. But, whenever he can, he likes to hear you talk about anything you want, your voice blended with the soft hum of the ship’s engines is a natural remedy for his headaches. Even if you’re not talking directly to him, just to be in the same room while you and his brothers chatting, all while he looks lovingly at you, is already really soothing.

He would use training sessions as an excuse to spend more time with you, helping you lift heavy weights, stretch, whatever it is that you enjoy doing for exercising, he’ll be there close to you, guiding your body to assure you’re training correctly. But beware, when you’re least expecting it, he’ll latch on you, tickling you without mercy until you’re laughing and rolling on the floor.

When in shore leave, he’ll prefer calmer environments so you can enjoy each other peacefully for some time, but he certainly wouldn’t mind it if you wanted to get drinks and dance all night in a club.

Echo

It’s one of his strongest love languages. While doing any task he always unconsciously looks for you, being so used to having you with him. He could be fixing the Marauder, piloting the ship, strategizing your next mission, somehow, he’ll find something to talk about with you.

He’s the type to enjoy discussing. About anything, really, as long as it’s discussing with you. You usually start talking about the war, economics, politics, serious matters that end up turning into something else entirely, and when you realize you’re playfully arguing about loth cats, the most handsome clone in the army, who would win a dance battle. He makes conversation so dynamic, you often loose sense of time and forget about everything happening around you.

When you finally have shore leave, he’ll want to show you every place he used to visit with his brothers, unlike Hunter, he’d go first for the most chaotic places in town, you never know what to expect. Street food eating competition, mechanical bull, bumper cars, you name it he’ll take you there. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t plan some romantic dates. There are times he just wants to relax and a good dinner night followed by stargazing feels ideal to him, in these moments he actually stays quieter, just wanting to enjoy your company before you have to go back to the loud, never-ending war.

Wrecker

He loves spending time with you. He obviously is not the type to stay still doing calmer activities, so training and sparring with you is what he usually goes for. Obviously, he’ll go easy on you, in fact he’s being more playful with you than actually trying to exercise, but if you insist on training seriously, he’ll actually try. He’ll show off to you during this time too, making sure you’re watching him lift weights twice as heavy as himself, and if you let him, he’ll have you on his back while doing push-ups.

He's also a big fan of nature, even if he’s rarely had the opportunities the visit places like forests outside of his missions, so that means he’ll want to go camping with you. He’ll do everything, bring the food or even go fishing (he’d dedicate his catches to you), set up the tent, show you around the place, explore caverns and maybe even go hiking. You just have to be there; he would sincerely offer to carry you if you didn’t want to go.

Crosshair

He likes to spend time with you during quiet space travels, only the sounds of his rifle echoing through the ship as you sit besides him cleaning his equipment. You can join him if you’d like, he wouldn’t object and it might even seem like he doesn’t care, but depending on how much time you’ve spent with him you’ll eventually learn to read his body language, and by the way he glances at you from the corner of his eyes when he thinks you’re not looking or how he subtly scooches closer to you, you’ll know he’s enjoying your presence.

He’s not the most romantic of the bunch, but if he feels like it’s an important date, he’ll take you to somewhere in Coruscant to eat. He loves spicy food, but if it’s not your cut of tea he’ll try to find other places that match your tastes or if you’re feeling adventurous, he might drive you around the city in a motorcycle until you spot something interesting to visit (there’s no use asking where he finds that motorcycle to drive during shore leave, he gives you different answers all the time).

Tech

Tech could spend hours talking to you, the way he always ends up getting carried away and explaining how every system in the Marauder works, and yet, you keep paying attention, asking him questions, actually showing that you’re interested. He’ll try to reciprocate that, doing research about topics you like so he you two can talk about it nonstop… or until he falls asleep. You’re used to it by now, your “talking sessions”, as Tech calls them, usually start by him sitting across from you, as the conversation goes, he approaches you more and more to show you things on his data pad and when he realizes it, he’s almost leaning his head on your shoulder, his eyelids growing heavy as your soothing voice calms the constant need to think he feels. Then, when you notice it, you invite him to rest with you, sometimes he lays his head on your chest, sometimes it’s on your lap, regardless, it always ends with you two soundly asleep holding each other.

If you’re good with mechanics and programming he’d be so happy to create things with you. At some point it would become a game of who makes the most surprising invention to gift the other, it doesn’t exactly need to be super useful, maybe just a silly little robot that says “I love you” or something with your initials engravened on it, just the thought that it was you who made it for him is reason enough for him to love your little inventions. But if you ever offered to create with him? Like, at the same time, in the same place, side to side with you? Then you’ll have a blushing Tech who’s short circuiting every time he even looks at you.

Reblogs, comments and feedback are appreciated. Let me know if there are any mistakes, English is not my first language. Thank you for reading! <3

Do not copy or translate!

Dividers by @/enchanthings

#echo x reader #hunter x reader #tech x reader #the bad batch headcanons #wrecker x reader #bad batch x reader #clone force 99 #clone force 99 x reader #crosshair x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader

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sunshine-theseus · 11 months ago

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Breaking Records or Breaking the Internet? | Vivianne Miedema x Reader

Words: 2.5k

Summary: COVID doesn’t exist, Viv didn’t have to undergo another knee surgery, I’m basing the main character off Arnie Titmus (I love her sm) but I am also just making shit up

Warnings: not proofread

Your first Olympics had been 2012 in London. Barely 15, you emerged from the water an Olympic record holder with your first piece of Olympic gold weighing on your neck. As a young girl from a rural town in Tasmania, you hadn’t expected to make a career out of swimming, but with every competition, every new medal, every regional, national and world record that you claim, it begins to feel real.

As a young girl from rural Tasmania who grew up extremely religious, you hadn’t expected to reach all these milestones with the girl of your dreams.

It was unclear how and why Vivianne Miedema showed up to your 200m Freestyle final swim at the 2020 Olympics in Tokyo. The rest of her team was surely back at the hotel or walking the streets of Tokyo, but here she was. Your eyes were drawn to her in the bright orange jacket all Dutch athletes had to wear, talking enthusiastically with Dawn Fraser, both of them pointing at you as you wait for your name to be called at the podium.

“With a new Olympic Record, 1st place is Y/N L/N!!” The voice echoes throughout the hall before cheers erupt from every corner. With a smile you bend to accept the medal that placed around your neck, then your eyes return to the unanticipated duo.

After congratulating your competitors and talking to family and friends, you make your way over to them. Dawn is pulling you into a hug and praising you before a word can escape your mouth, before turning to the tall dutchie next to her who has a tight lipped but kind smile.

“This is Vivianne Miedema. She’s a big fan of yours.” Of course you knew who she was. You were a big fan of her’s.

“It’s so lovely to meet you. You’re probably my favourite non-Australian player. I can’t wait to watch your game against Zambia.”

“You’re coming to the game?”

“Of course.”

Many, many people had caught that interaction, followed by your long talks on the pitch after her games or beside the pool at other record-breaking swims. The natural development from the internet was speculation about whether you were a couple. At the time you certainly weren’t. Strictly new friends.

But then you showed up to more Netherlands and even an occasional Arsenal game, and she showed up to more swim meets. The conversations last longer, the touches lingered, the glances toward each other’s lips increased. Everything was just more… intense.

So one fateful day in 2022 during your (short) off-season, you decided to visit her in London. It wasn’t a surprise technically, you just decided to arrive a few days earlier than planned and surprise her at the game. There was something telling you, you needed to come early. So Caitlin had sorted out your ticket and happily gave you a lift from the airport to the stadium.

Viv easily spotted you during warm up, with your hair in the same messy bun it had been for the past day and a bright orange ‘Miedema’ jersey adoring your torso, one that she had personally given to you after her first 2020 Olympics match. She happily made her way over to you, swinging her leg back and forth to mimic the exercise she was supposed to be doing as she grinned the same grin you’d found yourself stuck admiring time and time again. But it didn’t quite meet her eyes the same way it always did. Something was brewing.

“I can’t believe you’re here. You weren’t meant to arrive until Monday.”

“Couldn’t miss a big game, could I? Is- is everything okay? Something seems off.”

“Yeah, yeah of course why wouldn’t it be?”

“Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes today.” your hand rests on the side of her head, thumb stroking the spot beside her eye which is usually occupied by crows feet that show much love and joy she has.

“I don’t know. I’ve just felt off all week. I was going to ask Jonas to take me off the roster this morning but I don’t want to through everyone off. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

“If you’re sure liefje.” You press a kiss to the palm of her hand and send her back down the tunnel, anticipation and worry burning in your gut.

Lyon was up 1 by the end of the first 45 minutes of normal time, but there looked like hope for the English side during the extra 3 minutes. Viv was playing well in midfield. She wasn’t as strong as usual, but it just looked like she was taking it easy; making open passes and wasting no time in passing the ball to the next player.

But then she makes a run to meet Lia, trying to grab the ball from her feet.

She kicks.

She misses.

She falls.

She doesn’t get back up.

Blood pounds in your ears and you wait in bated breath as the medics assess her knee.

Her knee.

She’s shifted onto the stretcher, but you don’t see any more as you rush out of the family and friend’s section and demand a security guard take you to see her, flashing your badge. This was the bad feeling. You both knew something would happen and ignored it. It almost felt like you fault.

The doors crash against the brick walls, and you speed walk down the hall to the medical room where Viv is laying quietly while the medics do further assessment. They ask questions and she answers in short, quiet breaths.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“It’s unstable.”

“I can’t walk on it.”

“It popped when I fell.” No no no no. You whisper the three letters before anyone in the room can even think them.

Suddenly all eyes are on you. The medic’s eyes are apologetic and shocked at the arrival of a new voice, but Viv’s are tired and welled with tears. She looks so broken. So you sit in the seat next to her head and take one hand in your own while your other lifts to stroke through her hair.

“It’s going to be okay.” you whisper in her ear.

“I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

“I’m right here it’s going to be okay. I’ve got you”

~~~~~

About 2 months after the initial injury on a particularly difficult night for the Dutch, you found yourselves huddled up together in her bed watching Friends for the second time. Neither of you were talking but you found yourself staring at Viv while Chandler continues to ramble on about how much he loves Monica. Soulmates destined to be. And then you found yourself staring into Viv’s cloudy grey eyes, slowly leaning in. You waited for Viv to stop you but she says and does nothing, so you let your lips meet. It’s a delicate kiss, just two people who have been in love with each other for years, finally professing their feelings.

There was no conversation about what that kiss meant for you two, but it seemed to be an unspoken decision that you were now together. You slept beside each other, kissed at every opportunity, and supported one another through everything. You were in your own private world.

The recovery process proved to be difficult but you hadn’t left Viv’s side for a moment, officially announcing you were taking a break from this swimming season for unforeseeable amount of time. But the injury had taken a big toll had been her mental health. Most days she didn’t want to get out of bed, let alone leave the house, and every day you were to expect multiple apologies for being difficult to take care of.

Every bad comment was met with a kiss and a promise to stay by her side until you were absolutely no longer needed.

Viv made her return almost a year after the injury, coming on late into the second half, only to score two goals against Tottenham. You cheered as loud as you could, and smiled widely when she sent a hand heart your way in celebration. You’d agreed to keep your relationship private in terms of it’s development. Most journalists who had asked about it had been told you were taking care of a dear friend and had been looking for a chance to take a year off anyway, so the timing lined up. But she couldn’t help but silently give thanks to the person who had gotten her through it all. Who brought her back

~~~~~

You managed to make it back to training in time to decently prepare for Paris qualifiers. You’d kept up doing almost daily training during your time in England, but nowhere near the extent you were used to as the multiple time World and Olympic Champion under Boxall. Seven straight months of hard work, day in and day out, and you’d be in shape for qualifiers, and in perfect shape to take on the best of the best.

Everyday consisted of 4-6 hours in the pool and in the gym, a session in the early morning and another after lunch, a nap, and then a long call with Viv while you ate dinner and she had lunch. It was hard being away from her after spending a whole year beside her. The bed was cold, the house felt empty, things just weren’t the same. But you both knew it needed to be done.

By the time early July came around, you genuinely felt like you were a new person. Before the year long break things had begun to feel tedious and swimming was losing it’s meaning. You were still performing as the best in the world, but it was automatic. But now everything felt… right.

And the qualifiers showed it.

You broke your own world records multiple times with ease, and every round made you feel alive again. There was no Viv in bright orange to cheer you along this time but you knew she’d be proud. And she made sure you knew she was with every nightly call, proclaiming her love and support for you.

Viv accompanying you to Paris was a well kept secret between the two of you. In the days leading up to your first races, you wondered around the village texting her, desperate to know what she was doing out in the city. More often than not, the answer was that she refused to see any big sites without you, waiting until you are completely done to explore the city of love.

She was in the crowd of every race without fail, the same bright orange jacket she wore the first time you met. Your ear was trained to hear her and your eyes knew where to look, she would be sitting in the exact same seat every time. The proud smile on her face made your heart flutter and it takes everything within you not to run up to her and kiss her after clambering out of the water.

Halfway through the swimming events you’ve managed to rack up five golds and once again break your own world records, barely skimming off 0.2 seconds each time.

Then it came to the big finale. You were known for your short distance swims. 100m and 200m freestyle and butterfly were your dominant fields, but you were adamant to at least try and land on the podium for the 1500m freestyle beside Katie Ledecky.

It was a shock to you, your coach and most of the nation when you had passed through the qualifiers, and then you qualified for the semis. Now you were on to the final. You’d never been this nervous in your career and all you wanted in that moment was a hug from your girlfriend, but you needed to lock in.

You’re lined up in the tunnel.

Your name is called.

You’re standing behind the podium for lane 7.

You’re on the podium in position.

The whistle blows.

You’re submerged in the water.

The rest of the race is a blur. One lap becomes 10 and 10 becomes 20 and then suddenly you’re onto the last 50 metres. Just 50 more metres. You have no idea if you’re in front or if you’ve fallen behind, but you push until your hand slides against the ceramic tile of the pool wall.

Gasping for air, you pull off your goggles and look around the pool. Most other people are finished, but you have no clue for how long, and the final swimmer slots in beside your no more than 20 seconds after. You don’t expect a big victory as you all turn to the board, waiting for the results.

“In second… lane 4, United States of America, Katie Ledecky!” the room echoes with cheers and shouts of confusion. Second? This is her race. This is what she’s known for. Who could possibly have beaten the Katie Ledecky?

“And with a new world and Olympic record of 15:20.34, lane 7, Australia, Y/N L/N!” the screams are deafening as the crowd and your competitors alike cheer for you.

You hug and thank each of them, before making your way to the podium where you receive your gold. Tears stream down your face as photos are taken from all angles, and you pull Katie and Anastaysia up beside you, recognising their efforts. But all you can think about is Viv, waiting impatiently against the barrier for a moment of your time.

The happiness and excitement keeps building up within you as you’re finally freed from media, and you run to your girlfriend, grabbing her face and kissing her. In the back of your head you know this will be making news headlines everywhere in all of an hours time, but you don’t care. How could you? It’s the perfect way to celebrate all your hard earned success. Kissing the love of your life.

“I love you so much. I’m so so proud of you liefje.” She pecks your lips again.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, lieveling.”

~~~~~

You get to leave the village the next day, and you’re thankful to leave the Styrofoam mattresses and cardboard bedframes behind. Your hotel’s king sized bed with a memory foam mattress, completed with the warmth of your girlfriend’s arms is the only upgrade you could ask for. She presses kisses to your shoulder as you scroll through twitter, many fans of both yourself and Viv sharing words of adoration and happiness for your now public relationship as pictures of your kiss spread across the internet.

When Viv picked you up from the village to take you to breakfast at a small Parisian café down the road from the hotel, you both decided to officially, officially, announce the fact you were together. You took photos together throughout the day, her kissing you on the cheek, your hands being held between you, the way you looked at her. Anything of the two of you. You turned it into a collage and posted it to Instagram.

Y/N_L/N

@ y/n_l/n “breaking records and breaking the internet in the same week. there is no on else I’d rather do it with than the love of my life. Ik zal je in elk leven vinden.” (I will find you in every life).

This was the life you wanted to live. Forever. With Viv.

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #arsenal fcw #vivianne miedema #vivianne miedema x reader

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