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Painkiller Confessions (Ian/reader)

Requested: Hey, could you maybe write an imagine or something where the reader gets hurt and needs ian takes her to the hospital and she ends up a little out of it from the medicine and Ian takes care of her and she spills her feelings about him? Thanks

Writer’s note: I’m writing this a little bit differently than how it was requested, but I hope you still like it!

“I’m coming back here tomorrow,” you giggled as your best friend Ian helped you slide into the passenger seat of his Jeep.

You had just gotten your wisdom teeth removed at the hospital and the Vicodin they gave you for your pain was making you feel extremely loopy. Your body had a low tolerance for painkillers and you laughed and stumbled the whole way to Ian’s vehicle.

“I don’t think you want to come back here again, (y/n),” he said with a smile.

After making sure you were alright, Ian got into the driver’s seat and looked over to you, shaking his head and laughing quietly to himself.

“What?” you asked, furrowing your brows at him.

“You are so messed up right now. And you look like a chipmunk,” he snickered, referring to your swollen cheeks due to the surgery.

“Hey, are you gonna be my caretaker or are you just going to make fun of me the whole time?” you slurred, crossing your arms defensively.

“I’m just kidding. You know I’ll take care of you, (y/n),” Ian reassured you, placing a hand on your knee.

Despite being out of it on pain medication, you felt butterflies when Ian touched you.

You met Ian a few years ago through mutual friends, and the two of you hit it off right away. Admittedly, you’d had feelings for him upon meeting him, but you never did anything about it because it was hard to tell how he felt.

Since you were feeling bold (and high), you took his hand and held it in yours. Ian looked at you, blushing slightly and almost jerking his hand away so he could start the car.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “So, what kind of foods did the doctor say you should be eating?”

You looked down at the paperwork in your hands to see what foods were on the list of things you could eat. “Gelatin and pudding and soup,” you deadpanned. None of those foods were really your favorite, so these next few days were going to be hell for you.

Ian drove to the grocery store to buy the foods that were on the list, as well as some gauze for your mouth. Not trusting you with the keys in the ignition, Ian rolled down the windows and took the keys with him.

He reemerged with a bag full of your necessities and you smiled, watching him approach the car. It was so sweet of him to go out of his way and offer to care for you for the next few days. He most definitely didn’t have to do any of this. But he did it for you, which made you love him even more.

“Ready to go home?” Ian asked, looking over to you as he started the car.

You nodded, yawning slightly. You were ready for a nap.

When you reached Ian’s place, he got out and jogged over to your side of the car to help you out. He slid an arm around your waist to keep you from tripping and falling over as you walked.

As soon as he opened the door, you hurried inside and plopped down on his couch.

“Wait, (y/n). You’re not supposed to lie flat,” Ian warned, rushing over to prop your head up with pillows. He handed you the remote control so you could find something to watch on the TV.

“Thanks Ian,” you cooed.

You laid there, watching as he made you some soup. It was adorable how he fawned over you.

You told him so when he brought you your soup.

“You’re cute,” you blurted as he handed you the bowl.

“What?” he asked, the confusion obvious in his voice and on his face.

“You’re. Cute,” you repeated, giggling.

“What brought you to that conclusion?” he asked, sitting down beside you on the couch.

“Well, I always thought you were cute. But I never told you because I didn’t think you’d like me. But now I’m almost certain that you like me because you’re taking care of me like this. And that makes you even cuter.“

You couldn’t have stopped yourself from rambling on if you tried. You knew what you were saying and how risky it was, but you just couldn’t stop talking. Finally, Ian interrupted you and told you to eat your soup before it gets cold.

Sighing frustratedly, you asked him why he was ignoring what you had just said.

“Because you don’t even know what you’re talking about. You’re on Vicodin. You probably won’t even remember any of this tomorrow,” he sighed.

Deciding to let the matter drop for the time being, you ate your soup. Then Ian brought you an icepack for your face. You laid there, holding the icepack to your face, drifting off to sleep.

You slept for a long while, waking up the next morning to see Ian was making you pudding for breakfast.

By now, your meds had worn off and your head felt much clearer than it did the day before.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, you yawned and said good morning.

“Good morning,” Ian said, giving you your pudding.

“Thanks,” you said, taking the spoon and swirling it around the dish absentmindedly.

You felt like something major had happened yesterday, but you couldn’t remember what. You racked your brain trying to figure out what you were forgetting.

Then you remembered. Or at least, you thought you remembered. But there was no way. There was absolutely no way that you confessed your feelings to Ian.

But by the way he was looking at you from across the table, you surely must have said something out of the ordinary.

Nervously, you looked at him and asked, “Did I say anything, you know, weird yesterday?”

A big smile spread across Ian’s face and he nodded.

“Oh god, what did I say?” you asked, shaking your head in embarrassment.

“Well, you called me cute. And told me that you’d always thought so. But before that, you held my hand in the car,” he snickered.

Covering your face, you laughed and shook your head. “Oh god, I’m such a mess,” you sighed.

There was a pause before Ian broke the silence. “Did you mean any of what you said to me?”

Blushing, you nodded. “Yeah, I meant every word of it, actually. Well, maybe not every word. But I do think you’re cute. And I have liked you for a long time.”

At that, Ian smiled.

“What?” you asked, wondering if he was laughing at you. You began to panic slightly.

“I like you too. And I think you’re cute. Even with your chipmunk cheeks,” he teased.

anonymous asked:

yes.. i've heard the one about the "stupid old truck" and the one with the banjo. that's enough country for me.

please don’t come back here again

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